Flo-Week is the time second- and third-years get pissed before the freshers start pissing them off. (I get it but, like, come on, give them a break). Each night a flat on Castle or Leith Street hosts with a totally original theme, in the hopes people are ready and willing to dress up to get down. Critic Te Ārohi got the scoop on Flo, in what was meant to be a team effort but wound up being a weeklong Coke Zero fuelled bender for one (I’m so tired).
Monday: Back2School (Courtyard)
“Guys does someone have a lolly? She’s feeling unwell.” Night one on Castle is already off to an interesting start. I’d soon learn the actual “start” was 9am – just in time for first period. Girls adorn their old high school uniforms (cropped, obvi – their hook-up from last sem is here), while the boys just wear blazers and jorts (NOT up to code). Signs read “principals office” and “no hat, no play”. Courtyard has truly transformed from an ordinary pit to a pit of squashed second-years who, upon closer inspection, are just chatting with each other (“what are you drinking?”) rather than dancing to the house music playing through blown-out speakers.
Critic’s hopes are high: the theme is obvious (tick) and the host has evolved beyond DnB (bigger tick). But the optimism doesn't last for long. Ambulances come and go as the night progresses (my editor wanted a joke about the Doppler Effect but I’m an English major so idk what she’s on about), and so too does the theme and good music. The girls’ take on a “uniform” rapidly derails, as outfits evolve into wearing just white shirts and skirts. Boys barely even try, many just wearing their highschool rugby jerseys or a red tie over a hoodie (it isn’t that cold, come on). There’s no one telling them to pull their socks up or to tuck their shirts in.
If students are the – well – students, police are the teachers. They’re telling people to come off roofs, inspecting one girl's head for glass shards (if she had her hat on it would be fine), and breaking up two fights – when they aren't distracted by drunk girls taking selfies with them, that is. Too busy looking at their phones (they should be turned off in their bag), the police seem to miss the fact that one guy is attempting to crowd surf, nearly diving head- first into a pole in the process. It’s a solid ten or so seconds before one officer rushes over to break it up. Other non-influencer cops are busy telling [read: yelling at] students to go home, then following for a block to make sure they do. Could just be me, but five cops against one jort-wearing drunk seems a little unfair.
The general setup is fine. Bright strobe lights and a smoke machine surround the decks. Many people tell Critic they feel weird being back in uniform, worrying that their mean vice principal will tell them off for wearing bracelets and nose piercings before remembering it's 11:30pm on a street on the opposite side of the country. Police break it up at 12am sharp, telling Critic there weren’t any arrests. In reply to us saying we saw a breatha in handcuffs put in the back of a paddywagon, they say: “Doesn’t mean he was arrested.” Whatever you say, officer.
Turnout: 7/10. Cleared out quickly
Adherence to theme: 5.5/10. They started off so well
Music: 6/10. They started off so well!
Setup cost: $2.7K
Tuesday: Day@Races (Tunnel + Racecourse)
“Skibidi! Skibidi!” the high-pitched voice of a breatha yells, running past. Expectations are high – and drop back down soon after. It’s hard to know which flat is hosting. The cops are here but seem bored more than anything. Honestly, so does the crowd, and I assume it’s because of the theme that barely anyone’s adhered to. There’s a guy dressed as Santa (maybe he thought it was ‘Sleigh@Races’). As it turns out, Mr. Claus is one of the only people who has actually been to the races, and while high on coke – a crucial ingredient of the day, he informs me. “Then you haven’t been to the races,” is his response to my cokeless experience. Fair play.
Once in the mosh, it’s an all out assault on the senses. Bright flashing strobes make it hard to see who you’re talking to. The hosts almost exclusively use their mic to scream: “WHEN I SAY K-HOLE, YOU SAY FUCK OFF.” Don’t need to tell me twice. Back on the street, an overstimulated Billie Eilish meow stim is rewarded with a passing breatha’s response. “There’s pockets of wholesomeness,” says a friend, pointing out a group of guys dancing in their flat lounge, showing off their moves to each other. “Pres and kick-ons are better than the actual thing,” agrees one bystander.
The drunkenness is tame. A guy offers to pay three times the retail price for our non-existent drinks, because apparently his empty bottle of vodka wasn’t enough to quench his thirst. He turns down our chocolate (Treatles, anyone?) because of the calories, seeming to forget alcohol isn’t exactly slimming. While fireworks fire at a concerning angle in the background, he explains his weight-loss lore: he used to be really skinny but then gained a lot of weight and apparently became ugly. Our reassurances that he’s a decent-looking bloke fall on deaf ears, as do the reassurances that, as a straight guy (he hesitates a little before confirming), he should know that girls love having ugly boyfriends. They’re proud of it, even. After a long rant about his Irish ancestry and how upset he is that he lost his accent within six months of moving to New Zealand, he continues his search for more alcohol. Critic goes home.
Turnout: 4/10. The club was not going up on a Tuesday
Adherence to theme: 3/10. Y'all didn’t try at all
Music: 5/10. “It’s more just background noise”
Setup cost: $2.9K-$3.6K
Wednesday: Bride and Grooms (Fridge & Fridgette)
Finally, a theme people stick to. So many white dresses, veils, and smart-looking men in suits and ties. There seems to be some confusion around the date given Valentine’s isn’t until Friday, but maybe they’re saving the international day of romance for their honeymoon. A horde of newly-weds cosy up in the alley in between Big Red and Fridgette, spilling out onto the road. A police car and van block off this part of the street so no one can come in and object to this union. “I genuinely believe it’s a safety hazard,” says one groom surveying the mosh. While definitely true, it’s hard to deny Bride and Grooms popped the fuck off.
To avoid the masses, many people try their luck going backstage by climbing over fences, not knowing you can simply walk down the aisle (AKA go around the back). Critic’s own trip is fruitful. We ask about the setup for the hosts (all run by the people who run Southern Sounds). Starting off in Invercargill, the lads realised there was a market for putting on hosts that go one step better than a JBL speaker. They decided to rent out their equipment to those willing to pay up, and their good relationship with the cops makes the process a whole lot easier. They’re also pretty fortunate that the students are all good with the midnight curfew (they spend the next day looking for the Cinderella who fits the Birk left on the stairs). We’re told there’s an even split between boys and girls who hire their equipment, but the girls often pay a week in advance, while boys do it the day before or just cancel. Figures.
Plenty of grooms are looking for brides, but with little luck since they’re too busy swinging on trees (your best man encouraging you did not help). Behind all the chaos, it’s easier to talk to people about the goings on, but they often get sidetracked about the fact that Critic is there at all. One guy tries to trade his ‘Bride to Be’ sash for the iconic Critic cap (denied, it cost $20). “Fuck, you payed for your uniform, that’s cooked bro,” he says, before ranting about Sexy Garfield. “I know he hates Mondays, but that can’t be what he’s into.” Eventually, he’s distracted by his mates (who all love martial arts and boxing). “I do Health Sci so shit like this is essential,” says a student who struggles to dap Critic up due to the box in hand. “Most people who have locked themselves in their rooms and not blown off steam often burn out or drop it, so you need to say, ‘fuck it’ and have a bender. You need to meet some people and have a good time.”
Turnout: 8/10. The tight space may be deceiving, though
Adherence to theme: 9/10. Felt inspired, went home and watched MAFS
Music: 8/10. It’s a lot better when you’re behind the speakers
Setup Cost: $2K
Thursday: Gothic (Haunted)
If gothic means wear something black, everyone hit the nail on the head. Fuck, who cares if it’s an All Blacks jersey or a different Man United kit. It’s black. Goths wear black. Goths also love DnB and ‘FE!N’ by Travis Scott and Playboi Carti. Goths have tattoos on their faces that say ‘666’ or ‘xoxo’ and even get teardrop tattoos. While Critic listens to the defining chant of the week – “K-hole, Fuck off” – we notice a group of girls with lipstick on their forehead with words like ‘horny’, ‘slut’ and ‘bitch’. One of them, Libby, has bitch on her forehead because: “I am one.” After talking to some of Libby’s friends, she is too hard on herself.
Amongst a sea of dancing (finally) girls wearing fishnets for the first and last time, stands Devon. Devon is sweet, toned, charming, and looks eerily similar to Jake Paul. He proudly tells Critic he’s kissed two guys and one girl so far: “When you lose your friends you start kissing guys.” Speaking through the Red Frog pancake in his mouth, Devon’s keen to kiss one of Critic’s finest. Sadly, Critic reporters aim to be very professional on the job and already had pancakes for breakfast.
The crowd is weirdly full of unexpected characters. It seems that Castle is for everyone, not just people studying at Otago – a frustrating fact on our end since they’re useless for a quote (apart from Santa). There was a surprising amount of old people that probably wouldn’t even recognise a DnB remix of ‘FE!N’ by Travis Scott and Playboi Carti. When the night once again ends at midnight, Devon once more appears from amid the crowd avoiding bottles being thrown. Standing in a huddle, Devon admits he only kissed two more girls and no more because “they’re scary.” Things are not all bad though. He expresses confidence he’ll find another man to kiss, but isn’t in any rush: “It’s not about the destination – it’s about the journey.” I may regret not taking that kiss.
Turnout: 7/10. Four points for actual Uni students and three for random fuckers from Christchurch
Adherence to theme: 5/10. Robert Smith does not have a teardrop tattoo but maybe his fans do
Music: 5/10. Cannot stress enough how often they played ‘FE!N’
Setup cost: $1.6K
Friday: Cowboys and Cowgirls (Complex)
“I’m not really feeling it eh?” says a breatha pissing against a fence. To be honest, neither am I. Complex has the largest setup, meaning the largest crowd. People are trapped like sardines in there and struggling to get in and out of the pit, let alone dance to the DnB. Or whatever it is you’re meant to do to DnB. Finger guns and gurn? Cowboy hats and picnic shirts are the attire of the night, except for the one guy with the MAGA hat in true Southern Republican fashion.
As fate would have it, we stumble upon some Americans having their own separate party. Kai
is from Colorado on a semester abroad and can’t stop praising New Zealand’s beauty and Dunedin’s party culture: “In America with fraternities it’s very exclusive, but here everyone is involved and it’s really nice.” More international students make an appearance. Calvin from Germany is in NZ for “the parties and the baddies,” and he was sure to attract them with his pink hi-vis and light-up heart shaped sunglasses. After walking past a girl pissing on a lawn saying to her friend, “I don’t care, I’ve embarrassed myself enough,” Critic spots a familiar face. A man wearing a black tank top, paired with a pink ascot and matching pink cowboy hat on top of his curly blond hair: Devon.
Devon’s just as excited to see Critic as we are to see Devon. Zero kisses so far, he reports, but the night is young. After informing him that he would make an appearance in the article, he says, “Okay but make the title, ‘Devon: The King of Castle St.’” Devon then introduces his friends Chloe and Evie who reinforce that he does look a little bit like Jake Paul, doesn’t he? And that Devon is definitely not straight, even as he protests, “I am straight though.” We review the receipts (my notes app), revealing an anecdote about what he was going to get up to last night that was said in confidence.
Delving into the Devon lore, I learn from Evie that Devon was recently in a relationship that lasted four years and is now having some fun; that “his girlfriend thought he was a twink when they first met”; and that Devon takes issue with this (he was not a twink… while dressed like Mojo Dojo Casa House Ken). Curious cat Evie wants to know more about what Devon has said to Critic; before even finishing the quote, Devon interrupts: “It’s about the destination! That’s my thing!” After a shoot off at dawn (Critic wins) and some discussion about the film About Time (it broke both our hearts) it’s time to say goodbye. Until tomorrow.
Turnout: 9/10. Got poked by so many cowboy hats
Adherence to theme: 6/10. Even Critic wore a Brokeback Mountain jacket and jeans
Music: 4/10. The Americans wanted to hear some Country
Setup cost: $4.5K
Saturday: Whiteout (Thirsty)
One of the first sights is someone's mum and dad hanging out and sinking brews trying to relive their glory days. They’re not dressed in white. Gravity Events is the host tonight and the bright lights reflect off the braces of the freshers keen to scope out a night on Castle with pre-rehearsed fake flats (“I’m a second-year living on Dundas”). The groups of people are rather spread out and not directly in front of Thirsty. MAGA guy shows up again, this time with a girl bearing a massive flag reading ‘Kanye 2020’. Cool.
The music is an absolute shitshow. Castle ‘25 has already seen complaints from people about the same songs being played over and over, but no one’s mentioned yet that the DJs are shit at mixing and genre hop constantly. No wonder people are just standing around talking. Thankfully, I’m able to chat to my new best friend Devon, who’s fashionably on-theme once again, dressed in all white: “You’ve got to commit to the theme.” His pants and shoes are both from his flatmates, illustrating both his dedication to the week and a sexy resourcefulness. “I’m going 14 for 14.”
Taking his main character role seriously, Devon drops some lore to Critic. He’s from Bristol in the UK, studying Geography at the University of the West of England where Bear Grylls is an alumnus. It’s Devon’s second semester in New Zealand and he went back home over the break, where unfortunately he and his girlfriend drifted apart. “Hey, that happens you know but now I’m single for the first time ever and just trying to enjoy myself.” Devon needed to get out of Bristol and was hoping the party scene would be better in Dunedin. “There’s a lot more flat parties which I love, there is nothing better.” Inquiring about the scene in Bristol, Devon reveals they’re also fond of DnB. “I was hoping to escape that but what can you do?” Now more aware that he’s on record with Critic and not remembering what he had said the previous nights, Devon comments: “I wake up. Can I remember what I said to [Critic]? No? Must have been a good night.” We then say goodnight to each other, hoping to meet again.
Turnout: 6/10. Mainly “covert” freshers, though
Adherence to theme: 4/10.
Music: 2/10. Jesus Christ
Setup cost: Blanked
Sunday: Smackdown vs Raw (Gender Bender)
A last minute change of theme to draw interest did fuck all, as roughly 30 people show up and none of them are Devon (to be fair, Critic was only there for all of 10 minutes). It’s lame. It’s boring. It’s a fitting end. There are broken eggs everywhere (and a can of beans).
Turnout: 1/10
Adherence to theme: 7/10. There were 30 people and still you couldn’t throw on a dress
Music: 5/10. In one ear and out the other
Setup cost: Surprised if it cost anything tbh
What have we learned? That Critic is not reviewing O-Week cos fuck this. We’re watching MAFS (and definitely NOT pining after Devon).