New Year's Eve Toast: Timing, What to Say, 7 Examples

The short version: a New Year's Eve toast runs 30 seconds to a minute. Give it a few minutes before midnight or right after the noise dies down, never during the countdown. Name one specific thing from the year for the people in the room, add one short line about the year ahead, and get the glasses up. Seven short examples you can adapt are below, for hosts, friends, families, a good year, and a hard one.

New Year's Eve toasts are short because the room is busy. People are refilling glasses, looking for their partner, checking the time on three different phones. Nobody wants a speech. What they want is someone to gather everyone for a moment, say one true thing, and get the glasses up in time.

The rest of this guide is mostly about timing, because that's where New Year's toasts go wrong.

Before or after the countdown

There are two good moments for a New Year's Eve toast, and one bad one.

Before midnight is the usual choice for a host. You gather the room, say your piece, fill glasses, and then everyone counts down together. It's easy to plan and it gives the countdown a little build. The risk is starting too late and running into the clock.

After midnight works well among friends. Let the kissing, hugging, and noise run their course for a minute or two, then raise a glass to the new year. It can be shorter and looser, since the big moment has already happened.

During the countdown is the bad one. Nobody can hear you, half the room is watching the TV, and you'll lose the last line to "Three, two, one."

How to time a toast with the countdown

If you're speaking before midnight, work backward from the clock.

That leaves two spare minutes, and you'll use them. Someone will be in the bathroom. Someone will be outside. The bottle won't open.

If you're toasting after midnight, give it about two minutes past twelve. Wait until the room comes back together on its own, tap a glass once, and go.

For a big party, the champagne toast calculator will tell you how many bottles you need for everyone to have a glass at midnight. Pop the corks before 11:55, not during your toast.

How long a New Year's toast should be

Thirty seconds to a minute. That's roughly 65 to 130 words at a relaxed pace. Before midnight, aim for the short end, since the clock is running. After midnight, a full minute is fine, but people are still buzzing and won't hold still much longer.

If you want to check your length before the party, paste the draft into the speech length calculator.

What to say

Use the same shape as any good short toast.

1. Why you're the one talking. You're the host, or the friend who organized the house, or the person who has hosted this party nine years running. One line.
2. One specific thing about this year. For these people, not the world. The wedding in June, the new baby, the friend who moved back, the year the group finally took that trip. Or the hard thing, said honestly.
3. One short line about next year. Small and real. "More dinners like this one" beats "may all your dreams come true."
4. Glasses up. A last line that calls back to your detail. Then the countdown, or the hugging.

Toasting friends

A New Year's party among friends is often the one night a year the whole group is in one place. The toast can say that. Name something the group did together, or something one friend did for the rest. Keep it light enough that people can laugh, and make sure anyone who's new to the group doesn't feel like they've walked into a reunion they weren't invited to. One plain line fixes that: "If this is your first year here, welcome. We're loud."

A good year

If the year was good for the group, say what was good, specifically. A wedding, a baby, a new job, a recovery. Be careful, though. Not everyone at the party had the same year. Toast the good news without making it sound like the measure of everyone else's twelve months. Naming two or three people's good news by name is warm. A long list of everyone's wins can leave the one person who lost a job this year feeling like the only one who didn't get a mention.

A hard year

Sometimes the year was bad. A death, an illness, a layoff, a divorce, a long stretch nobody wants to repeat. You don't have to pretend otherwise, and you shouldn't.

• Say it in one sentence. "This was a hard one for a lot of us." No list of what went wrong.
• Name what got people through it. A friend who kept showing up. A standing dinner. The group chat. That's what you're really toasting.
• Keep the hope small. "A quieter year" or "more Sundays like this" sounds true. Big promises about next year sound like you weren't listening to this one.
• Don't single anyone out unless they've told you it's okay. If it was one friend's terrible year, talk to them before you mention it in front of the room.

Family New Year's Eve, with kids

Plenty of families do New Year's at home with kids who won't make it to midnight. A few things help.

• Do an early countdown. At eight or nine, find a time zone where it's midnight and count down with that. Kids don't mind that it's technically somewhere else.
• Give the kids a job. Counting down, banging a pot, or raising their cups first.
• Keep the toast under thirty seconds. One line about the year for the family, one line for next year, cups up.
• Sparkling cider counts. Any glass works, for kids and for anyone who doesn't drink.

What to leave out

• Resolutions. Nobody wants to hear yours at a party, and nobody wants to be asked for theirs on the spot.
• The year-in-review. One thing. Not twelve months.
• Worn-out lines. "Out with the old, in with the new," "new year, new me," and "here's to another year" are what people say when they have nothing to say. The cliché detector will catch them.
• Predictions about the world. No politics, no economy, no headlines. The toast is about the people in the room.
• Anything about who's kissing whom at midnight. Some people at the party are single and some just broke up.
• Talking through the countdown.

7 New Year's Eve toasts you can adapt

Names are placeholders. Timings assume about 130 words a minute.

For the host, before the countdown (about 35 seconds)

Everyone, two minutes, I promise.

Nine years ago I threw this party because I didn't want to be alone in a new apartment on New Year's. Six people came. One of them brought a bag of ice and a lawn chair. Tonight there are forty of you, and I still have the lawn chair.

Thank you for coming, every year. Glasses up. To the lawn chair, and to next year.

Why it works: one detail from this party, said fast enough to leave time for the clock.

For a friend, after midnight (about 40 seconds)

Okay, now that everyone's done hugging.

In March, Dusty made a group chat called Beach House Or Bust. It had eleven people in it and no plan. In August, eleven of us were sitting on a porch in the rain, eating cold pizza, because the beach house was real and the weather was not.

Best week of my year. Thank you all for actually showing up. To this group, and to next year's porch.

Why it works: the group's own story from this year, and a last line only this room understands.

For a friend, after a good year (about 45 seconds)

I'll keep this to one minute, because I know Goldie wants to sit down.

This time last year, Goldie and Edgar were talking about maybe, possibly, someday having a kid. Tonight their daughter is asleep in the back bedroom, and Edgar has checked on her four times since eleven.

Not everybody had that kind of year. But I'm grateful we got to watch one good thing happen up close. Glasses up, everybody. To Goldie and Edgar, and to the back bedroom.

Why it works: it names two people's good news without turning the toast into a list of everyone's wins.

For a friend, after a hard year (about 50 seconds)

I'm not going to pretend this was a good year. For a lot of people in this room, it wasn't.

But here's what I'll remember. In April, when things were at their worst, Effie started sending a photo of her dinner to the group chat every night at seven. Just the plate. No message. And somehow, every night, all of us sent one back. Two hundred and some nights of very ordinary dinners.

I don't need a big year next year. I just want more of those. Raise a glass. To seven o'clock, and to all of you.

Why it works: it admits the year was hard in one line, then toasts the thing that helped instead of the thing that hurt.

For a parent at an early family countdown (about 25 seconds)

Okay, kids, cups up first, then grown-ups.

This was the year we learned to ride bikes, lost three teeth, and moved into a house with stairs. I've loved every bit of it.

On three, we count down with everyone in Iceland. To us, and to the stairs.

Why it works: short enough for kids, gives them a job, and names one family moment from the year.

For a couple's small dinner with friends (about 40 seconds)

There are four of us, so I'll just say it to your faces.

Heidi, we met you two in January at a terrible cooking class where we set off the fire alarm. Since then we've had dinner together on what I'm pretty sure is the first Friday of every month. You're the best thing that came out of that class, including the risotto.

To the first Friday of every month, and to the two of you.

Why it works: at a table of four, it skips the room and talks straight to the people there.

For a neighbor hosting the block (about 35 seconds)

Hi, everyone. I'm Homer, from the green house on the corner, and this is the fourth year we've done this.

This year the street got two new families, one new dog, and a snowblower that Gene next door lent to everyone but himself. If you moved in this year, welcome, and sorry in advance about the noise.

Glasses up. To the street, and to the snowblower.

Why it works: it gives a mixed crowd one thing they all share, and makes the new neighbors feel included without putting anyone on the spot.

Delivering it

• Turn the music down first. Nobody can tap a glass over a playlist.
• Stand where people can see you. In a crowded room, a step or a stair is your friend.
• Watch the clock, not your notes. If you're running long before midnight, skip to the toast.
• Glasses up on the last line, then hand off to the countdown. You don't need to lead it. Let the TV or a phone do the counting.

For the rest of the holidays, see the Christmas toast guide, or browse all toast examples. If you want a toast written around your own crowd's year, write one here.