NOYES: SLUT
Satan took a claim on the students of Bennington Friday night, roping them all into the charades of late-night rendezvous and dancing till dawn. With Noyes’s neon demands sparkling onto the crowd and the outside aspect of the event, it gained quite a crowd. Though not everyone “vibed” with the weather, the coffee table full of lustful dancers and satanic-ritual-esque torches surrounding the grassy dance floor created the right energy for all the sinners of the night.
The music jumped around directly at times, forcing pumped-up crowds to idle awkwardly until the next hit. These breaks gave way for nice chatting and cigarette-shared kisses, and when the beats finally reached above the heartbeat, we felt it in our toes and faces. The noises of the outside chatter traveled into the common room, where party-goers drenched in red corsets, black silky dresses, and fishnets galore lounged on couches and walls.
As hours passed, and the music blasted on Noyes’ small lawn, some attendees ascended to the roof and danced along with the many below. Noyes’ infamous SLUT, though always welcomed, fought very hard to be its best sinister self, and for that, I applaud all of its efforts and devilish charm.
DEWEY: Bacchal
After Dewey’s masquerade ball fell flat on its face earlier this term, Dewey had a lot to make up for this past weekend. With its theme, Bacchal, which was described to me as an “ancient Roman cocktail party”, Dewey slammed white togas in our faces, and all of the crowd dived into its green garden of sticks and twigs, which were collectively carried in earlier that day in squads of cars and carriers.
Bacchal, the second (controversially) outdoor party of the weekend had a lot of the same criticisms of SLUT. Whether it was the cold air or the empty pockets created by the open area, many people talked about hating it, but when music started up and the crowd cuddled up near each other, it wasn’t so bad after all.
Dewey’s party wasn’t life-changing, but it restored its party-throwing honor. The DJ booth was filled with excitement as the DJs bounced Fiona Apple jersey mixes and Marina and the Diamonds’ Tumblr hits onto the progressively sloppy crowd of flower crowns and midsommar-like madness. Its decorations and ambiance were great considering, and the final notes of Frank Sinatra claimed the crowd as its own.
As blasts and splatters of fireworks painted the sky and sprinkled on the attendees (even slightly grazed some hands and faces), everyone danced in loose white sheets and bathrobes and strongly considered polyamory, just like the ancient Romans would have wanted.
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