First article to come in.....
Portland Examiner
Vampires Masquerade Ball: Portland's Gothic Elegance Revealed
March 31, 11:50am
Devon Downeysmith
One of the many beautifully dressed couples at the Ball
"It's ten o'clock at night on Friday, March 28th and I'm walking toward the Melody Ballroom on sixth and Alder in Southeast Portland. My best friend, Jessica, looks amazing in her red and turquoise oriental-style corset and skin-tight black pants. Her tall black boots and bright red dangly earrings really top it off. She's unmistakable in her beauty, and quite unrecognizable from the professionally dressed business woman's identity generally assumes. The same could be said about me. With dark smoky eyes, wearing black from head to toe and sexy leopard heels you never would have looked at me and thought "yep -- she's an Executive Assistant for a non-profit alright." But maybe that's the point. An opportunity to assume new identities, to play different roles than the ones we play five days each week from nine to five.
We make our way to the ballroom entrance and are greeted by the eerily beautiful music of cellist Adam Hurst. We can't see him playing yet as we stand at the back of the line, but our eyes have plenty to fixate on just the same. I feel a chill go through my body as the cold wind blows by unmercifully. I hug my arms to my chest and can feel my eyes darting nervously back in forth inside my head as I try to take in the crowd. Oh no. I am dressed totally wrong for this. I look around a see a sea of beautifully colored corsets and ball gowns, tuxedos and suits, people who have obviously spent many hours and dollars preparing for their entrances this evening. I look down at my leopard heels and wonder just how wrong I've gotten it. I admit I had no idea what I was getting in to, but all I needed to hear was "vampire" and I was there. Now I am walking in to the Melody Ballroom, past Adam Hurst and his haunting melody, wondering just how wrong I've gotten it.
We give our names to the woman at the front with the list. She's beautifully dressed in red and black with a tiny little hat on the corner of her head. It reminds me of something Sarah Jessica Parker's character, Carrie, would have worn on Sex and the City. I wonder if she would take that as a compliment or an insult if I told her that.
We take our tickets and walk up the stairs in to the ballroom. The room is dimly lit and a performance is just finishing on the main stage. I see baroque candelabras on the stage and tables scattered around the room all decorated with black tablecloths and tea lights. The bar at the back of the room is serving themed drinks, like the strong cocktail appropriately named "Rigor Mortis", or the red wine simply named "Vampire". As the performance ends and the people gathered at the front of the room begin to disperse, I can see their beautiful outfits in all their intricate details. Feathers, corsets, ruffles, and all colors of ball gowns float past me in a prancing display of Gothic beauty. I find my senses overwhelmed by the pulchritude of the night. Jessica and I grab a table and decide to just people watch for awhile. By now the performance is completely over and the DJ has started to play music again. It's far from anything you'd hear in a typical club, and honestly I don't quite understand how one would dance to it. But as I look to the floor I realize the attendees obviously know something I don't, and I watch them float across the floor with a grace and symmetry like I've never seen. The evening's constituents neither bump nor grind like I am unfortunately all too accustomed to witnessing in the clubs; they move their arms rhythmically, unabashedly to the music's rhythms; I find myself wishing I felt that free anywhere, much less at a ball. They seem so uninhibited, so ultimately in their element. I keep waiting for someone to judge my poorly chosen outfit, but no one does.
My friend and I wander downstairs to find a low-ceilinged room also dimly lit with quite the display of food. Chocolate fountains and a wide assortment of hors d'oeuvres tempt us to enter. Beyond this room we find an even larger space beyond full of vendors selling all sorts of products to fulfill your sinuous Gothic dreams. Jewelry, clothes, masks -- even Gothic style clothes for your pets -- are some of the many items being showcased. We're still people watching, admiring the beautifully dressed crowd and trying to overcome our timidness. I used to consider myself "Gothic" in my earlier years; I listened to Marilyn Manson, wore a dog collar and thought I was too cool for school. But I am quickly realizing that my pretentious pre-teen definition of goth is far from the actual meaning of the term. The term "Gothic" is far more diverse than I ever could have imagined. The Vampires Masquerade Ball defines the different types as "romantic goth, death rock, fetish, corporate goth, industrial, Victorian, Edwardian, steam punk"; it is oversimplifying the matter to state that there are many manifestations of the term "Gothic." Some of it strikes me as superbly gorgeous, while other styles seem over the top and downright strange. But who am I to judge? I'm the girl in the out of place leopard heels, and no one's judging me.
As the evening progresses we venture out and start talking to people. I am intimidated at first, and not sure how best to approach them. My own shyness surprises me as I work in a job where I constantly deal with the public; in my personal life I'm known as a hyper and giggly girl who says shocking things just to get a rise out of people. But here I am, the leopard-heeled wallflower. Jessica, channeling all of her goddess-like prowess in her ridiculously gorgeous corset ensemble, nudges me and says "just do it!" So I start going up to people and acting like the budding little reporter I am. I tell people how gorgeous they look and ask if I may please take their picture for my article. To my astonishment, my requests are met with outright enthusiasm and friendliness. Nearly everyone I speak with is gushing with positivity, sheer jubilation in fact. People are so happy to be at the ball, happy to meet me, chat with me, take a picture and show off their outfits. I am a little jolted to find that these masked, darkly rouged individuals are so friendly and cheerful. It is then that I realize that in the midst of my own fear of judgment, I myself have been judgmental.
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I spend the rest of the evening having fun with Jessica, enjoying the atmosphere and meandering from space to space. The myriad of colors and fabrics have a somewhat labyrinthine effect upon me, and eventually I let go of my own insecurities enough to dance awhile. After a few hours, the leopard heels have gotten the best of me and judging by the pallid, almost vampiric complexion of Jessica's face I'm guessing the tight corset is starting to cut off her air supply. We depart the ball unnoticed, slipping back into the shadows from which we emerged. As we drive off I am still struck by the outright friendliness of each person I met that evening. I had no idea that this ball was going to be so much more than a standard club experience with a Gothic twist; it was a real gathering of a community of people who know and care about one another, people who listen to the same music, attend the same shows, support each other as artists and individuals.Unlike the typical club scene, this night was not about whose boobs are biggest, whose outfit sexiest, who can find the hottest guy to take home, who can do the skankiest dance -- oh no. This night was about the genuine coming together of a community whose individuality is not celebrated by mainstream society, a place for them to be the mainstream and not the marginalized. I only got one small insight into this community, and in doing so realized just how many preconceived notions I had without even knowing I'd had them. But sometimes the greatest lesson one can be taught is simply realizing just how much they have to learn.
The event wasn't about vampires per se -- although I did meet some interesting folks with fangs who were dressed like vampires. Like the ball's web site explains, "using "vampire" in the name is meant to touch on dark romanticism, having an appreciation for all that we find beautiful in the Gothic community. While this event is not put on by the vampire community itself, to date they have been very supportive and are very welcome to attend." Yet while the event was not purely about vampires, it still touched on many of the reasons us vampire nerds are drawn to vampires. Beauty, darkness, excitement of the unknown, the question of our own mortality and what lies beyond, our fascination with civility, chivalry and high culture; the ball touched on all of these elements and many more. Further, the ball touched on the very reason I myself have become so obsessed with everything vampire: escapism, a distraction from the harsh realities of life, a sweet diversion tinged with just enough darkness and adventure to make it oh so intoxicating and utterly irresistible. With regards to the ball I can only say that just like vampires, I couldn't get enough. Despite the fact that I didn't really know anyone, or know anything about Portland's local goth/industrial community, they still welcomed me in with open arms and didn't make me feel less than in any capacity. I wish the whole of mainstream society could be that kind and sweet. What can I say? I'll definitely be back next year, and I hope to see you there!"
Vampires Masquerade Ball: Portland's Gothic Elegance Revealed
March 31, 11:50am
Devon Downeysmith
One of the many beautifully dressed couples at the Ball
"It's ten o'clock at night on Friday, March 28th and I'm walking toward the Melody Ballroom on sixth and Alder in Southeast Portland. My best friend, Jessica, looks amazing in her red and turquoise oriental-style corset and skin-tight black pants. Her tall black boots and bright red dangly earrings really top it off. She's unmistakable in her beauty, and quite unrecognizable from the professionally dressed business woman's identity generally assumes. The same could be said about me. With dark smoky eyes, wearing black from head to toe and sexy leopard heels you never would have looked at me and thought "yep -- she's an Executive Assistant for a non-profit alright." But maybe that's the point. An opportunity to assume new identities, to play different roles than the ones we play five days each week from nine to five.
We make our way to the ballroom entrance and are greeted by the eerily beautiful music of cellist Adam Hurst. We can't see him playing yet as we stand at the back of the line, but our eyes have plenty to fixate on just the same. I feel a chill go through my body as the cold wind blows by unmercifully. I hug my arms to my chest and can feel my eyes darting nervously back in forth inside my head as I try to take in the crowd. Oh no. I am dressed totally wrong for this. I look around a see a sea of beautifully colored corsets and ball gowns, tuxedos and suits, people who have obviously spent many hours and dollars preparing for their entrances this evening. I look down at my leopard heels and wonder just how wrong I've gotten it. I admit I had no idea what I was getting in to, but all I needed to hear was "vampire" and I was there. Now I am walking in to the Melody Ballroom, past Adam Hurst and his haunting melody, wondering just how wrong I've gotten it.
We give our names to the woman at the front with the list. She's beautifully dressed in red and black with a tiny little hat on the corner of her head. It reminds me of something Sarah Jessica Parker's character, Carrie, would have worn on Sex and the City. I wonder if she would take that as a compliment or an insult if I told her that.
We take our tickets and walk up the stairs in to the ballroom. The room is dimly lit and a performance is just finishing on the main stage. I see baroque candelabras on the stage and tables scattered around the room all decorated with black tablecloths and tea lights. The bar at the back of the room is serving themed drinks, like the strong cocktail appropriately named "Rigor Mortis", or the red wine simply named "Vampire". As the performance ends and the people gathered at the front of the room begin to disperse, I can see their beautiful outfits in all their intricate details. Feathers, corsets, ruffles, and all colors of ball gowns float past me in a prancing display of Gothic beauty. I find my senses overwhelmed by the pulchritude of the night. Jessica and I grab a table and decide to just people watch for awhile. By now the performance is completely over and the DJ has started to play music again. It's far from anything you'd hear in a typical club, and honestly I don't quite understand how one would dance to it. But as I look to the floor I realize the attendees obviously know something I don't, and I watch them float across the floor with a grace and symmetry like I've never seen. The evening's constituents neither bump nor grind like I am unfortunately all too accustomed to witnessing in the clubs; they move their arms rhythmically, unabashedly to the music's rhythms; I find myself wishing I felt that free anywhere, much less at a ball. They seem so uninhibited, so ultimately in their element. I keep waiting for someone to judge my poorly chosen outfit, but no one does.
My friend and I wander downstairs to find a low-ceilinged room also dimly lit with quite the display of food. Chocolate fountains and a wide assortment of hors d'oeuvres tempt us to enter. Beyond this room we find an even larger space beyond full of vendors selling all sorts of products to fulfill your sinuous Gothic dreams. Jewelry, clothes, masks -- even Gothic style clothes for your pets -- are some of the many items being showcased. We're still people watching, admiring the beautifully dressed crowd and trying to overcome our timidness. I used to consider myself "Gothic" in my earlier years; I listened to Marilyn Manson, wore a dog collar and thought I was too cool for school. But I am quickly realizing that my pretentious pre-teen definition of goth is far from the actual meaning of the term. The term "Gothic" is far more diverse than I ever could have imagined. The Vampires Masquerade Ball defines the different types as "romantic goth, death rock, fetish, corporate goth, industrial, Victorian, Edwardian, steam punk"; it is oversimplifying the matter to state that there are many manifestations of the term "Gothic." Some of it strikes me as superbly gorgeous, while other styles seem over the top and downright strange. But who am I to judge? I'm the girl in the out of place leopard heels, and no one's judging me.
As the evening progresses we venture out and start talking to people. I am intimidated at first, and not sure how best to approach them. My own shyness surprises me as I work in a job where I constantly deal with the public; in my personal life I'm known as a hyper and giggly girl who says shocking things just to get a rise out of people. But here I am, the leopard-heeled wallflower. Jessica, channeling all of her goddess-like prowess in her ridiculously gorgeous corset ensemble, nudges me and says "just do it!" So I start going up to people and acting like the budding little reporter I am. I tell people how gorgeous they look and ask if I may please take their picture for my article. To my astonishment, my requests are met with outright enthusiasm and friendliness. Nearly everyone I speak with is gushing with positivity, sheer jubilation in fact. People are so happy to be at the ball, happy to meet me, chat with me, take a picture and show off their outfits. I am a little jolted to find that these masked, darkly rouged individuals are so friendly and cheerful. It is then that I realize that in the midst of my own fear of judgment, I myself have been judgmental.
I spend the rest of the evening having fun with Jessica, enjoying the atmosphere and meandering from space to space. The myriad of colors and fabrics have a somewhat labyrinthine effect upon me, and eventually I let go of my own insecurities enough to dance awhile. After a few hours, the leopard heels have gotten the best of me and judging by the pallid, almost vampiric complexion of Jessica's face I'm guessing the tight corset is starting to cut off her air supply. We depart the ball unnoticed, slipping back into the shadows from which we emerged. As we drive off I am still struck by the outright friendliness of each person I met that evening. I had no idea that this ball was going to be so much more than a standard club experience with a Gothic twist; it was a real gathering of a community of people who know and care about one another, people who listen to the same music, attend the same shows, support each other as artists and individuals.Unlike the typical club scene, this night was not about whose boobs are biggest, whose outfit sexiest, who can find the hottest guy to take home, who can do the skankiest dance -- oh no. This night was about the genuine coming together of a community whose individuality is not celebrated by mainstream society, a place for them to be the mainstream and not the marginalized. I only got one small insight into this community, and in doing so realized just how many preconceived notions I had without even knowing I'd had them. But sometimes the greatest lesson one can be taught is simply realizing just how much they have to learn.
The event wasn't about vampires per se -- although I did meet some interesting folks with fangs who were dressed like vampires. Like the ball's web site explains, "using "vampire" in the name is meant to touch on dark romanticism, having an appreciation for all that we find beautiful in the Gothic community. While this event is not put on by the vampire community itself, to date they have been very supportive and are very welcome to attend." Yet while the event was not purely about vampires, it still touched on many of the reasons us vampire nerds are drawn to vampires. Beauty, darkness, excitement of the unknown, the question of our own mortality and what lies beyond, our fascination with civility, chivalry and high culture; the ball touched on all of these elements and many more. Further, the ball touched on the very reason I myself have become so obsessed with everything vampire: escapism, a distraction from the harsh realities of life, a sweet diversion tinged with just enough darkness and adventure to make it oh so intoxicating and utterly irresistible. With regards to the ball I can only say that just like vampires, I couldn't get enough. Despite the fact that I didn't really know anyone, or know anything about Portland's local goth/industrial community, they still welcomed me in with open arms and didn't make me feel less than in any capacity. I wish the whole of mainstream society could be that kind and sweet. What can I say? I'll definitely be back next year, and I hope to see you there!"