White Party Review

The night before Thanksgiving 2008, I planned to party at The Depot, joining the pretty people to “dance until it snows” at the 8th Annual White Party. I’ve been dreading snow this year—it sucks to drive around in it—but I figured I would just watch other people call on their own doom.

When I mentioned to my friends that I was going to something labeled the White Party, they gave me that look that said “Oh, you’re like that now are you?” After informing that I enjoy all colors, a bevy of other jokes ensued.
I don’t do well with themed parties. I don’t generally have what is requested and in this case I didn’t own much white due in part to past stains haunting my once crisp apparel. I did manage to rummage up a white dress from the back of my closet (no it was not a dress that has been back there from being stood up at a wedding, that hasn’t happened…yet) and put it on not quite sure how to coordinate makeup and shoes. The internet set me straight with its helpful dos and don’ts.

I like The Depot. It makes me appreciate the fact that I am getting an education, because I know that one day, one day, I will be able to afford their drinks.
Inside, I greeted a populace bedecked in faux fur, tall platform boots, feathers, ballerina bottoms, hula hoops, glow sticks and, hell, even a colonial outfit or two to even things out.

The music was good, with a lineup featuring host DJ/producer Sultan, plus Josh Max, Dan Dixon and JLUVV, and the visuals/art installations helped divert my attention from some of the more unsightly guests. I need to school myself on contemporary electronic music, apparently, because as much as I liked the grooves I couldn’t tell when one DJ transitioned to another or when switches occurred because my untrained ears can’t differentiate between pulsating beats and rhythms. Maybe someone will be willing to provide a free education sans costume?

I somehow managed to get out the joint without paying a ridiculously high bar tab, though—a gentleman that had the serendipity to be wearing all white and telling me that he had just happened to be wandering by and was curious as to what was going on inside bought me a shot of tequila. Look, I don’t care if he was telling me the truth or not, he bought me a free drink. Rules are, you can lie to me all you want, just buy me drinks and I will listen.

I made my way outside where the techno kept thumping and was approached by a dreadlocked man in white insisting that we check out his glow stick show at 12:20. Whew, that was kind of late, I had a date with a turkey the next day. He said he wanted to perform with fire but for some stupid reason they wouldn’t let him do it in that building. I say we burn down the fire codes.

I asked him how he got drawn into the world of performing with fire and glow sticks and white parties and he told me that he was going to be straight up honest and it mainly had to do with drugs. “Except I don’t do those anymore, I got away from all that, well I still do acid, but that doesn’t count.” Well as long as he isn’t into that hard stuff I suppose?

Conversation with him proved futile when a made up girl clad in a black corset stumbled over to me and asked me for a lighter. I just assumed she was drunk and I lit her cigarette. Actually through the course of the night many people’s cigarettes were graced by my lighter, there must have been a shortage in town that night. As my stumbly new friend slumped in front of the building I imagine her thought process being that that high thumping techno beat outside was missing one thing. She filled the void, screaming shrill lyrics that were completely unintelligible to anyone but herself. The pitch got louder and louder, and that meant that it was time for me to go inside just in time to catch some flag show going on stage with the black lights pulsing on the flexible dancers.

The people there having a glazy-eyed good time, and trying to picture them out at an alt-country concert with me did make me realize that hey we all have our own practices for fun and if putting furry things atop your boots and glow sticks on your finger is what does it for you, then more power to you.

(Dominique LaJeunesse)