(no subject)
WHO: Everybody! Everybody, and Patricia.
WHAT: The first annual Europe Day Party, aka EU New Years, aka Europegate, aka The French Revolution. Decadent decay, imperialism, wine-drinking, scone-waving, Manet/Monet slurring, nouveau bossa nova, big maps, Eurocentricism, themed booze.
WHEN: Friday evening; party starts around nine, starts around eleven
WHERE: Europe, aka the flatiron district apartment
STATUS: Time-stamped threadlets
By eleven o'clock, the Europe Day Party Extravaganza had a population to rival one of its smaller countries--Cyprus maybe, certainly Montenegro. Guests were everywhere, packed into every metric centimetere from the cocktail-generating studio kitchen, to the open lantern-strung roof, to the sitting-room set up in Hale's old bedroom. A gigantic wall map leered festively down at the partygoers, who nibbled baklava and petit fours while discussing... each other, as tipsy artists were ever so wont to do. Dancing had broken out in the main room, though not spontaneously: dance cards had been distributed, and were filled with an array of pens (also used for exchanging phone numbers and drunken manifestos). At least one transaction had been sealed with a lipstick kiss pressed against the desired line.
Swindler the First circulated the crowds in a fedora and suspenders, sleeves rolled up like an Italian gangster; the Second, whose sole nod to costume was a "Hello, my name is: LUXEMBOURG" tag involuntarily applied to his chest, had taken up by their complimentary supply of international cigarettes, working some shtick about the smoking habits of different Europeans--the condescending cigarette-flick of a film student in Paris, the aggressive full-face hand cupping of a shady football gambler, the neurotic puffing of crossed-ankle Austrian intellectuals. Both were grinning, and both were drinking; they were not the only ones.
It was a space free from rules and regulations, though a scribbled caption, written where the giant map held the continental United States, warned that "DANCE CARD VIOLATIONS" are "PUNISHABLE BY DANCING". From the looks of things, a lot of dance cards were either being honored or violated, but this was not the only Friday night party in New York City where the line between dancing and violation was being blurred, and it was arguably one of the funnest. Certainly it was one of the most thematic. While from their speakers a perky French vocalist churned out electronica that was probably more political than the party allowed, German Milkmaids mingled with British Punks; most guests weren't in costume, but when asked, were prepared to drawl: "Oh, no, I'm just thinking of moving to Europe for political reasons", and smirk as they sucked on their straw.
It was a den of liquor and dirty discussion, a veritable festival of stereotypes, one communal voice distended around syllables of sloppy Franglais; the voice said plus musique, plus d' bloody alcool! and the Byrons happily complied.
((OOC NOTE: Since there are so many people involved (omg I love you guys), maybe we can try and consolidate? If possible, check and see if there are open starters before starting a new one. And carry on!))
WHAT: The first annual Europe Day Party, aka EU New Years, aka Europegate, aka The French Revolution. Decadent decay, imperialism, wine-drinking, scone-waving, Manet/Monet slurring, nouveau bossa nova, big maps, Eurocentricism, themed booze.
WHEN: Friday evening; party starts around nine, starts around eleven
WHERE: Europe, aka the flatiron district apartment
STATUS: Time-stamped threadlets
By eleven o'clock, the Europe Day Party Extravaganza had a population to rival one of its smaller countries--Cyprus maybe, certainly Montenegro. Guests were everywhere, packed into every metric centimetere from the cocktail-generating studio kitchen, to the open lantern-strung roof, to the sitting-room set up in Hale's old bedroom. A gigantic wall map leered festively down at the partygoers, who nibbled baklava and petit fours while discussing... each other, as tipsy artists were ever so wont to do. Dancing had broken out in the main room, though not spontaneously: dance cards had been distributed, and were filled with an array of pens (also used for exchanging phone numbers and drunken manifestos). At least one transaction had been sealed with a lipstick kiss pressed against the desired line.
Swindler the First circulated the crowds in a fedora and suspenders, sleeves rolled up like an Italian gangster; the Second, whose sole nod to costume was a "Hello, my name is: LUXEMBOURG" tag involuntarily applied to his chest, had taken up by their complimentary supply of international cigarettes, working some shtick about the smoking habits of different Europeans--the condescending cigarette-flick of a film student in Paris, the aggressive full-face hand cupping of a shady football gambler, the neurotic puffing of crossed-ankle Austrian intellectuals. Both were grinning, and both were drinking; they were not the only ones.
It was a space free from rules and regulations, though a scribbled caption, written where the giant map held the continental United States, warned that "DANCE CARD VIOLATIONS" are "PUNISHABLE BY DANCING". From the looks of things, a lot of dance cards were either being honored or violated, but this was not the only Friday night party in New York City where the line between dancing and violation was being blurred, and it was arguably one of the funnest. Certainly it was one of the most thematic. While from their speakers a perky French vocalist churned out electronica that was probably more political than the party allowed, German Milkmaids mingled with British Punks; most guests weren't in costume, but when asked, were prepared to drawl: "Oh, no, I'm just thinking of moving to Europe for political reasons", and smirk as they sucked on their straw.
It was a den of liquor and dirty discussion, a veritable festival of stereotypes, one communal voice distended around syllables of sloppy Franglais; the voice said plus musique, plus d' bloody alcool! and the Byrons happily complied.
((OOC NOTE: Since there are so many people involved (omg I love you guys), maybe we can try and consolidate? If possible, check and see if there are open starters before starting a new one. And carry on!))