Avoiding any Schwepping generalisations.

I guess I’ve committed to glitter for the next few weeks. After two showers I managed to de-glamour my skin. A big shave helped clear my fabulous, lush beard and the solid line where my sparklestache used to be. Thankfully most of it was mixed with hair gel, so water was super effective. My body was restored to its natural state, devoid of flair. My clothes on the other hand are still littered with glitter. The inner lapel of my coat ensuring that any beard I grow will attract effervescence like gin seeking Schweppes. Wait, that’s Schweppervescence. My insoles are a canopy of wonder, ready to spread their flashy parasites to socks and floors across Toronto.
Obviously last night was German Sparkle Party. The most magical night of the year, where ravers hole up in a warehouse, garbed in their shiniest apparel. Based on a viral video from 2009, the event poses several questions: Do you German Sparkle Party? Do you like to dancey dance? Do you wear your rubber boots? Have you got your party pants? If the answer to any/all of these questions is a resounding yes, there’s no better place to be. Costumes are an exercise in excess. I’d kitted myself out in some rainbow blacklight leggings I bought in the UK, plus a glittery silver bodysuit I found at H&M. I’d rubbed the hair gel glitter mix all down my arms and through my beard, with a few sparkles around my eyes for good measure. Most attendees rode the spectrum between ridiculous and absurd. Simply walking around the event to look at people’s get ups was a blast. So much shiny wear, sequins and clothing fit for an ice skating routine. Blacklight duds out in full force. Body paint, LEDs and glitter over everything. It’s as much farcical as it is fantastic in every sense of the word.
As with all events thrown by the I Love Promise group, the douchebag quotient is bordering on zero. Everyone seems to be pretty friendly, there for the experience, not to make a dick of themselves. There was the essential photo booth, vendors with home made trinkets and jewellery, smoothie and food stands (with free dates/goldenberries) and a cash bar. One of the surprising winners on the night came from MiniPong. They’d set up a bunch of tiny ping pong tables, all with a stack of lollipops lying around the net. If anyone wanted to take a break from dancing to go pong (verbing it) some balls around, they could. My girlfriend and I had a blast trying to maintain some semblance of a good volley, failing 90% of the time. It brought up the very serious question of whether we’re willing to take this to the next level? Could we commit to getting a net and paddles to convert our kitchen table? God only knows. It was a neat side event at a huge sensory experience.
Having done my fair share of dancing at the work party one day prior, I dabbled with dancing for short periods. To be honest, the first two DJs weren’t quite hitting the right beat for me. Super bassy, but lacking many interesting flourishes or samples. By the time the third DJ kicked off at 1.30am, who really did pick up the slack, I was already pretty bushed. Having had a stellar night hanging out with friends (and a surprising number of peripherally attached mates from other communities), my girlfriend and I gapped it around 2.30am or so. Awesome night with lovely people at a grand event.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I need to try exorcise some of my more spirited clothing.

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