Leigh
What to expect from a Leigh party? Though known for being a party house, Leigh’s most recent showing pulled a crowd with its strong 2016 theming—and, though the DJs might seem like they use Youtube Music, it’s a party, in a Colonial common room, and the vibes are usually, more or less, fine.
Perhaps the first sign that something was off with Leigh’s impossible-to-title—Fam-Leigh…. Something? …The Fam-Leigh?—mob-themed Friday party was the 10:30 start time—unusual enough without two events (a house show and line dancing) that didn’t even end until after the party had officially begun.
To make matters worse, Leigh boldly attempted to be the first fully outdoor party of the term—a decision that couldn’t be more confusing. It was, by no means, too warm to conduct the party indoors, and the awkward half-dancing crowd could never quite find a rhythm that wasn’t at least slightly reminiscent of a middle-school dance.
An outdoor party presents a number of issues. With anything but the heaviest crowds, outdoor dancing feels exposed and empty, never quite able to find a rhythm that doesn’t feel like it’s being chaperoned by the partygoers on the outskirts of the sort-of-“dancing” clump. Without the heat of a throng of dancers, a 41-degree night is unpleasantly cold, mob-wife furs
notwithstanding. And when the party is already outdoors, the dance-smoke-talk-dance rhythm is disrupted—where is there to go? Home, perhaps, for the average attendee who decided Leigh’s offer was one they needed to refuse.
The energy was nonexistent, and sometime between midnight and one, Leigh seemed to catch onto this, with the decision made to move the whole thing inside. But most attendees were lost in the bustle and silence of moving, and Leigh never recovered from an already rough start—even though, in the comfortable shelter of the common room, surrounded by unmoved couches and house residents hastily re-taping their painter’s tape lineup wall chart, dancing managed to lose its self-conscious energy, the night had already been decided. It was like watching a mob boss try to save face after a botched job, but without the charm or Sicillian backdrop. Perhaps the most baffling component of the evening was the house drink served sans cups, giving the general impression that Leigh planned to fail. Most people who were desperate (and desperately sober) enough to brave the frigid walk back to their rooms to fetch a Roz’s mug or mason jar realized midway that this party simply was not worth the walk back.
With noncohesive music that, at times, seemed reminiscent of the playlist from middle school you’d be really embarrassed to share now, the night limped along before fizzling out before 1am.
Saturday morning came with the realization that no one really had anything to talk about regarding the entirely forgettable night prior.
Fels
70s house parties don’t have all that much cachet, but Fels’s weekend-saving Saturday night party, with diverse, something-for-everyone music, on-theme projections and decorations, literature-student indulgent Shakespearean theme and non-outdoor location, is one that seems to have solidified their reputation as a house with actually good parties for all—no, really.
The milk-crate layout might seem like a drawback, but it’s actually got a lot going for it. The wall of windows, low ceilings, and even the carpet with the weird cutout no-one ever bothers to roll up come together to create an oddly cozy feel, and there are a refreshingly wide selection of secondary spaces: The calmer couches in the hallway, the bathroom directly off of the dance floor, or, for those who prefer their conversations with a side of nicotine, the readily-accessible and well-trafficked yet car-free sidewalk out front.
The small, half-hallway common room means that, even when attendance was low, the dance floor never felt like a wasteland—even late into the night, past the hour when most parties die, when most people had left and the informal not-DJs bounce to the laptop to queue up hits, Fels felt alive. Between the varied music selections that spanned from Vamp Anthem to a Brahms techno remix, Fels managed to escape the music monotony that most typically plagues Bennington. Even a slightly puzzling moment or two—when was the last time two separate Beatles songs were played at a Bennington party, and Oasis, really?—felt insignificant and endearing in the glow of positive—dare one say wholesome?—energy.
At 2:56, Campus Safety finally shut down the party, and the crowd—not a handful of stragglers, but a still-decent crowd—dispersed with applause. So let us raise a glass to Fels, the unlikely hero of the weekend, whose Shakespearean soiree brought merriment and mirth to all those who attended. As the Bard himself once said, “all’s well that ends well”– and for Fels, Saturday night ended with a bang, not a whimper.
Be First to Comment