London Diaries #3: An Ode to Hosting
i am a firm spreader of house party propaganda
In all my fantasies of adulthood, the pinnacle of existence and independence and sophistication has always the ability to host. I pictured myself, elegant, 30-something, bedecked in a sundress or jumpsuit, pulling delicate-stemmed wine glasses out of wooden cabinets and carrying them to a softly lit dining table of twelve. It is such a generous act, so warm: come to my house, it can hold everyone and feed everyone and be everything. In the summer between high school and college, I got a little preview of this; my empty Bombay house was essentially my personal bachelor pad, my parents and sister having evacuated to Bangalore. I hosted sleepovers and games nights and had some of my friends basically move in for two months. We went swimming in the pool and got locked inside the club house at night and got drunk and high and cooked pasta. It was glorious, a sort of fake adulthood without any responsibilities and the infinite freedom that that limbo period brings.
University dorm rooms unfortunately do not allow for this kind of thing; squeezing more than five people into my 2nd and 3rd year kitchen was a task, often involving someone perching on the fridge or the counters. Nevertheless, we did it, and every other week six or seven people crammed into my kitchen, eating whatever three-course meal I had decided to procrastinate my weekly essay with. Some of my warmest memories are of shouting and laughing and gossiping in those kitchens; consoling friends from break ups and doing questionable comedy routines about foetuses with my best friend. But I was itching to really properly throw a House Party; something unseen since my teenage days.
In the last year, I’ve had the pleasure and privilege of living in a house that can host. A wide balcony with a killer view; a large living room that can comfortably fit about 30 people; cosy sofas and air mattresses for stragglers to crash on, and an upstairs to debrief in make it the perfect party environment, in my humble opinion. It held a 40-person crowd at my birthday, full of people from all parts of my life strangely intersecting, a drunken blur of me rushing to the door to say HIIIII every 10 minutes as someone new arrived. I’m still reaping the benefits of the BYOB policy from that party nearly 9 months later.
On New Year’s Eve, we all gathered outside in the cold, hugging each other, to scream the countdown into the night air and watch London erupt into a million fireworks. We got drunk and danced, gathered upstairs to debrief, bodies intertwining and piled on top of one another, like a Venetian painting. Some of us woke up at 8am to go to New Year’s Morning breakfast at Dishoom. I was cocooned in a hoodie and noise cancelling headphones and a leftover blow dry, but also by the company of so many of my best friends. A whopping nine people slept over at my house that day. I remember feeling immeasurably happy as I made chai, nursing hangovers and sitting around with the inner circle eating take out burgers and debriefing the party the next day.
In March, I co-hosted a slightly compromised surprise party for my best friend, inviting all her friends to a bar in London and getting very drunk (there’s a theme to successful parties). There was a secret cake and a secret card and a not-so-secret venue or guest list. We danced and excitedly gossiped and chaotically blew out her candles and hosted many a flirtation and generally had a blast celebrating her.
A few weeks ago, I threw a bye-bye party to the house, and once again we stayed up to watch the sunrise, as my best friend from Bombay got with a London character in a strange overlap downstairs. We walked around the block on the shortest night of the year, waiting for them to conclude their activities, rushed into lifts and fell down and got up and giggled. We had another hungover brunch, this time at A2B, debriefing a breakup and a get with and someone’s entire dating history while introducing my token white boy friend to the wonders of authentic dosas in East Ham.
In the spirit of all the wonderful parties I’ve hosted and attended this year, here’s my guide to the perfect party:
What makes the perfect house party?
BYOB: Most important for hosting on a relative budget. Both for large dinners and for parties, having people bring alcohol is great. A ratchet mix is ideal for getting drunk, plus these almost always fund my future house parties because there is always a random bottle left over. As mentioned, my birthday party BYOB funded 3 more house parties after it.
A Good Guest List: Ideally, a mix of people from various walks of your own and your friends’ lives, who have enough in common to strike up a fun chat but just enough relative strangers, so everyone feels like the room is a bit more full than it is with the unknown faces. A few strangers keep everyone on their toes, engaged in small talk and slightly on their best shiny behaviour. In the perfect world, there are new people you have not met yet but have been brought along by friends as a +1, it’s a very efficient way to make new friends in a city with limited free time and socializing opportunities.
Potential Drama: There should be at least 1-2 potential get-withs or people looking for a get with at a party for onlookers to watch the progress of, as well as ideally someone’s situationship or sneaky link or new boyfriend/girlfriend arriving. This provides prime material to discuss, and brings an air of excitement and anticipation at potential opinion formation. At my birthday, my then situationship (now girlfriend) met all my friends for the first time. At NYE, my best friend brought his then girlfriend (now ex-girlfriend) to meet the gang. At the going away party, a lot of incest occurred in my house, and I was nearly worried my bedroom would be used for sex. What fun!
Debrief Group: Every great party of mine has involved 3-7 people sleeping over, creating the aforementioned inner circle of stragglers to debrief the party drama into the night, or to give munitions to in the morning to aid delicious hangovers. It is very crucial to fully review the party and various peoples’ comportment, especially new characters (I fear we are a bit mean) or any Events that went down. Also good for when you’re tired of being on good behaviour around strangers and just want to be a rat with your best friends late at night.
Brunch: Going with said Inner Circle for brunch the next day is also key to recovery. Big hearty brunch helps hangovers, replenishes energy from sleep debt and allows for groggy crusty selves to find themselves after a big night. Generally, the immediate post party debrief is too drunk, so this serves as a great sober accounting of the nights more intoxicated activities (what???? When did I stand up on the table???) It’s always my favourite part of a party, rounding up the various bodies asleep on the floor and the sofas, convincing them to wake up and go out on 3-4 hours of sleep and stuff our faces. Memorably, I did brunch on my birthday the next day and got a bunch of free brownies. Hungover brunch!!!
Party Trick: Not an actual party trick, but something to get me excited and hyped in the lead up to the party. Every time I plan a party, I need something new or special to think up in my head in the week preceding it. Whether it’s making large batches of cocktails or cooking biryani for 10 people or the theme for the décor, I need to have some sort of performance element that my friends can oooh and aaah over that makes the party a bit more elevated, more of an occasion than having 10 drunk people in my living room
To host a party is to be surrounded by joy and love and be causative to Good Stories. So, what if there is a bit of a clean-up? So what if co-ordinating the date is a bit of a pain with your useless friends. Go forth and host!!!!! You won’t regret it.
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