Save it til the Morning Afters
The morning after the night before has never been this cool. Previously associated with hangovers from hell and waking up next to something chortling and hairy-my horrifying experience anyway- the Afterparty is now officially the crescendo of your big night out. Yep that’s right; carbo-load and pace yourself; just because the sun is up doesn’t mean the party’s over!
Research into ‘Afterparty’ culture revealed these seemingly last-thought soirees actually go way back. To go totally nerd on you- and I probably won’t be invited to any more after this- the Latin word repotia is the heyday ‘afterparty’ equivalent which literally translates to ‘a second round of drinks’- which meant ‘the party that follows the original entertainment’. HA! And I’ve been trying to tell people there’s theory to this for years!
See, it occurred to me a while ago that going into a big dark room to dance for 9 hours and then heading home is actually not the most social thing in the world to do. You may think you’re bonding over shared bottles of water and tag-teaming into the loo’s, but when it dawns on you that all you really know about your Party Pal is their disturbing fascination with Steve Lawler and a penchant for shouting ‘VIVA!’ anytime anyone drops a half-decent tune, you might need to rethink how you spend your time. You might need to go to a few Afterparties!
Previously regarded as quite an elitist activity- by those not invited I’m sure- the key to Afterparty access is quite simple: make your own one! Briefly- spread the word, deny it until 10 minutes before the club closes so the lightweights and safety-hazards have gone home or passed out (Do not stop, do not wake them, do not help them into a cab- they will come alive, follow you home and vomit on your carpet!). Arrange some afterhours tune deliverance, a few cold ones and you’re pretty set!
Actually- it might even be worth a shot to try lure the headlining act back with you too- after all, it’s only decent to offer your hosting services to guests in the city and give them a truly memorable experience, right? An Afterparty I found myself at in Hackney saw D. Ramirez rock up with an awesome entourage- a gay Capetonian and two chicks from Pretoria- I kid you not! We all ended up donning someone’s neon pink lipstick, threw shapes in front of a camera I’d come across and later shared the fallacies of life on someone’s four poster bed. Brilliant, bizarre and the best of all- he didn’t play and no-one asked him to.
The homes, rooftops and back-gardens of the clubbing community around the world serve as the perfect time-continuum for when you’ve had the night of your life and you’re not quite ready to let it go. The decks are set, the crew are draped appropriately around the room and a few vodka-coffee’s are doing the rounds… you can scrape your hair back after letting it down and watch as people become human- and highly entertaining- making real connections away from the dancefloor and in ways you couldn’t possibly do in the club.
So as it turns out; Party Pal has a dog called Gadget and a theory on what we’re all dancing for but I think moments like these may very well be it! Oh and the moment you realise you don’t know where the hell you are and have work on Monday morning- but the Afterparty walk of shame is usually totally worth it!