Another year, another excuse for over-extravagant birthday
celebrations! Monday 31st saw my turning 23, so I made use of the previous weekend
for welcoming in the 23rd year in true Laura-style!
There’s nothing I love more than celebrating birthdays, and despite
the fact that I was expecting them to get dull after 21, I am pleased to report
that they have yet to do so; 22 and 23 have both proved equally as enthralling
as the years that preceded them, and thus have seen me driven into my usual
state of ‘birthday-girl-frenzy’...
This year all began with a surprise birthday party for
myself and a work colleague with whom I share my birthday 2 years apart (25 was
clearly the bigger milestone of the two, so I felt even more lucky to be
celebrating mine). The night was spent playing with inflatable palm trees,
sword fighting, playing pass the parcel, and alternating between pirate hats,
Minnie Mouse hair extensions and tiaras for head-wear. SO much fun! Turns out
my body on a Friday night felt like I was turning 46, not 23, as an early start
meant an early finish and I was still in bed by 11 (I suppose it’s a good sign
that I can have that much fun, yet still manage to be snuggled up by a
reasonable hour? ... it’s not. I’m old before my time).
Having broken the alcohol-hiatus spell on Friday night, I
awoke on Saturday morning feeling better than I had in weeks (worrying? I’m
really hoping it was more to do with working hot water for the first time in a
while and not a sign of how much my body had missed gin)! Saturday saw the
arrival of the most highly anticipated event of the year (admittedly, not much
of the year has been yet, and it was my birthday, so I may have been biased),
the Dark Circus Party, courtesy of Belle Epoque.
I really wasn’t entirely (or let’s face it, at all) sure
what to expect, but I’d been to the Prohibition Party also at the Bloomsbury
Ballroom in February hosted by the same event company and had the most amazing
time there, so didn’t think we could go too wrong with this one. I’m not quite sure
how to explain or describe the experience, but suffice to say, it went
completely above and beyond my expectations and I will absolutely definitely
making a reappearance at the next one in May (if anyone cares to join me?)!
Initially when we walked in we were a little dubious as
although the place was kitted out in the most wonderful way (a Big Top covering
the centre of the room, a cage at either end, one labelled ‘Monstrous
Menagerie’, the other donning a sign which read ‘Sideshow Freakshow’, the promising sight of a suspended
hoop, well-dressed bar staff and monkeys offering guests
popcorn), it did not seem as busy as the Prohibition Party... hang about
though, I seem to have skipped a little too far ahead of myself here.
Let’s re-trace our steps to the beginning of the day.
I was lacking in anything to wear (well, I had shoes, but I
wasn’t sure they’d be appropriate on their own... turns out I probably could
have gone with the ‘just shoes’ plan in the end) which meant that Saturday
turned into rather the shopping extravaganza; took the bus to Dalston for a
fancy dress shop that I then couldn’t locate, off to Oxford Circus, Soho, back
to Oxford Street, and home again (with McDonalds gorge in between to keep us
going). It may not sound like we covered much, but in 2 or 3 hours with such a
specific mission, we sure worked up a sweat of sorts! Somehow three of us without costume managed to find
something to wear before rushing back to mine for burnt pizza (not intentional)
ready to leave at 8... yeah. I think we always knew that part of the plan was
not going to be feasible.
When we attended the Prohibition Party in February we missed
all of the acts bar one, so this time we decided we’d attempt to make an
earlier appearance and acts were due to begin at 9. However, despite our much
later than planned departure, upon arrival we discovered that they didn’t start
as early as we’d thought, so we were actually in perfect time!
The journey to the Bloomsbury Ballroom this time had a very
different effect on the general public. Where last time our costumes had
sparked great discussion on escalators and the tube, received compliments from
elderly gentlemen, and caused a sense for all those who joined us in our train
carriage of travelling back in time, the effect of circus costume was more one
of shock, despair, and general disapproval. Jacquard leggings, corsets,
leotards, stockings, leather, tattoos in all the wrong/right places, feathers
and hats galore, accompanied by our two very own suited and booted men, we
perhaps did look like some sort of ‘organisation’ shall we say? As we teetered
along underground tunnels, we prayed that we might see fellow circus-goers in
order that we may stand out slightly less (although on the other hand, we did
all agree that it was rather empowering to turn so many heads and drop so many
jaws)! However, none appeared (because clearly they were all sensible and
listened to their friends when they suggested getting a taxi) so we assumed the
position of circus-themed Pied Pipers, leading the way along subways and up
escalators (in fact, even almost leading some poor, unsuspecting males into the
party because wherever we were going ‘we want to be there’).
From the Underground, my directional abilities were
miraculously right on point and we descended upon the ballroom to discover our
skills in the art of perfect timing!
The night was so much more than I ever could have expected,
with something happening wherever or whenever the head turned; fire eating,
pole dancing, feathers, tassles, acrobatics, cabaret singing, tails, top hats,
frills, horn-playing moneys, Marilyn Monroe strip teasing, cake and cocktails
galore! With a truly interactive feel, even those of us who weren’t professional
performers became part of it all through simply being there; it was a magical
kind of surreal!
The circus was certainly quite the contrast to Friday night’s
‘kiddie’s party’ and a fish and chip supper on the evening of the birthday
itself (always important to bring a little ‘home’ with me wherever I go). Each
year I wonder how I’ll ever beat the
last, yet each year so far I seem to have managed it – who knows what’s to
come?
Welcome to 23, me.
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