The two-week self-induced bender, also known as Flo and O week is a time of awakening, connection and chlamydia. The second years shed their fresher selves, the third years prepare for their final send, and the fourth years aren’t there because they’re too old and depressed. And the freshers, no one gives a fuck about because they have not yet earned the right to participate in such events. Just like any other alcohol ridden, hookup infested event which takes place in this godforsaken town, one must fully immerse themselves in the experience, especially for the purposes of investigative journalism.
Back to School
Monday 10th
As per usual, Flo Week kicks off with the annual Back to School Party. I’m not entirely sure why this theme still exists, or why people find pleasure in reliving their high school experiences. Maybe it’s because Matthew from Auckland Grammar refuses to come to terms with the fact he is no longer head boy. Maybe it’s a metaphor for the fear of ageing we often face at this age. Maybe it’s because no one could come up with an original theme.
The costume game at this party was strong, even though it’s not that hard to dress up in something you wore everyday for 5 years. Regardless, this party needs to be given some credit. One thing is for sure, school uniforms aren’t sexy, especially when people are constantly trying to flex on the fact they went to private school. We get it, your parents spent thirty thousand dollars a year for you to be taught the same thing as everybody else. Not only this, but it made one feel as though they were part of some weird culty underage orgy. Hard pass.
Decile: 3.5
Music: Your school song
Froth Level: Epsom Girls Grammar School
Costumes: Leavers hoodie
Gothic
Wednesday 12th
I’m not entirely sure when wearing ‘vintage’ t-shirts and black jeans from Glassons constituted as being goth, but it sure did on Wednesday night. The costume game on this night was adequate, but it did make me start thinking about that phase in year 10 all girls went through when they wore eyeliner and listened to Paramore, convincing themselves they’re ‘not like other girls’.
The Haunted flat itself is a lot smaller than anticipated, which made the mosh an unbearable sweat fest. After a solid 20 minutes of trying to propel myself through the walls of flesh, followed by a momentary dance session up near the DJ booth, I decided it was time to call it a night and head back out onto the street to join the lurkers who didn’t manage to make it in.
After joining the lurkers on the street, things got a little more interesting. I was surrounded by characters ranging from jaw swinging breathas who could barely form sentences, right through to close mates I didn’t expect to see out and about, who had managed to steal a funnel (sorry to whoever’s that was, by the way).
Once nightfall hit, even the shine of neon from the kids who’d gone Scene to Gothic couldn’t help me navigate the darkened abyss. To be fair, I also drank too much and had begun to lose all sense of direction. After losing my flatmates, and subsequently my vision, I decided it was time to pack it in. So I pulled a Madeline McCann and disappeared into the night with a BCom boy I had met just hours prior to continue the (somewhat) gothic adventure continued back at my flat.
Quotes: “I’m not like other girls”
Music: Mr Brightside - The Killers
Froth Level: Green Day and Fall Out Boy going on tour together
Valentine’s Day
Friday 14th
I didn’t last long on Valentine’s day. I stood on a crowded ledge, looking over a sea of pink and red, and remembered how depressingly single I am. Apparently the cops hate love even more than I do, though, because the whole fleet was out on this night. They could probably sense the sexual tension of the desperate fresher boys who were keen to make out to average music.
Where is: the love?
Number of lovers’ quarrels: 1 (when I was reunited with a friend I’d accidentally abandoned).
Free drinks scored: 5
White Out
Saturday 15th
The most highly anticipated day of Flo Week had arrived, and the breathas were getting well and truly geared up for the big event. Meanwhile, the infiltration of freshers had begun.
From the get go, it was clear this was going to be a full send. Thirsty Boys well and truly delivered an outstanding occasion, one that I will tell my grandchildren about. Although it’s not all that hard to dress in white, the costume game was still strong considering the risk one takes wearing all white to a party of this degree. Not even a whole bottle of Napisan could remove the stains from this night.
The stamina of the hosts is also to be applauded. Not one moment during the whole night did the boys on the balcony show weakness - jaws swung and hands waved right from kick off. I have absolutely no clue who the DJ was, but he deserved a Nobel prize or something. The non-stop flow of DnB ensured the crowd fully succumbed to the rhythm of the night, like some 21st century siren call. There were a few brief interruptions, but only because the police had to tell some fuckwits to get off the roof. The commitment to both safety and the send was admirable.
Rating: Sent, sealed and delivered
Costumes: Very white and very tight
Froth level: Vanish Napisan: Trust Pink, forget stains
Gender Bender
Tuesday 18th
Fucking yucky transphobia aside, the Gender Bender party was without a doubt the best of O Week. Should anyone wish to dispute this fact, please contact me directly.
The costume game was next level, with the girls coming out on top. No, I don’t mean the guys dressed up as girls. The gals-gone-boi all fully embodied the breatha experience, committing to the role whole-heartedly. They were all hysterically funny and also alarmingly attractive. I have never been so confused about my sexuality. But boys, you did a piss poor job. ‘Woman’ and ‘scantily clad is not the same thing.
The DJ on this night really hit different. Maybe it’s because my imaginary dick was getting hard to ‘Higher’ by Wilkinson for the hundredth time that week. Maybe it was the thirteen vodka sodas I had pumping through my bloodstream. We can never be certain, but for a fleeting moment, I was truly, genuinely, connected with the boogie and the beat.
After getting funky for a while up the front of the mosh, I decided it was time for a quick vape break and a leisurely stroll. On my travels, I ended up bumping into a bunch of freshers from UniCol, who were politely not taking part in the party (take note, infiltrators). One girl started telling me about how her and the Head of College walked in on people fucking in the bathroom. The other guy told me about how he found someone’s jizz covering the shower floor. I’m glad to see UniCol still remains to be the same STD ridden, bodily fluid infested shit hole it always has been. Never change.
Costumes: Queer Eye approved
Highlights: The girls all looked damn fine, hmu x
Froth Level: Thirsty Thursdays and the Col
Hawaiian
Wednesday 19th
It took a solid two hours to work out where exactly the Hawaiian party was, with the only guide being the distance flash of police cars and the vibrations of the doof doof. I eventually located the party by identifying which flat people were leaving in droves. Despite the lack of enthusiasm I sensed, and the sheer number of Jimmy Buffett cosplays about, I ventured forward.
Everyone was fully decked out in their tropical, flower adorned best. The DJ could very much be heard but not seen, but the LED lights were a nice, energetic, seizure-inducing touch to the event. A bunch of girls were head banging at the front, being watched by the boys sifting around towards the back of the crowd.
However, things began to heat up in this somewhat tropical paradise of a party when a few fights broke out and a girl then projectile vomited into the crowd, really adding a nice dramatic touch to the evening. It was not long after this that the police began to enter the crowd shutting down the whole shebang, the evening in ‘paradise’ coming to a close.
If you like: Pina Coladas
Getting caught: In the rain
Not into: Yoga
If you have: Half a brain
Double Denim
Thursday 20th
It’s pretty hard to actually comprehend and remember what happened at The Complex during the Double Denim because, my God, I saw some weird shit. I don’t even know where to begin.
First things first, there was the rather eclectic mix of characters manning the DJ decks all night, starting with a curly-haired, green cap wearing rapper who spat rhymes all night. He was followed in hot pursuit by another rapper who did a much needed nostalgic DnB remix of ‘Pump It’ by The Black Eyed Peas. I didn’t know how much both my 8 and 19-year-old self needed to hear that. From memory, although impaired, I think he was wearing a pair of ski goggles on his face. I also don’t think either of them were dressed in denim, which completely destroyed the point of hosting a double denim party, but hey, each to their own.
On a much more memorable note, there was an incredible range of ways to suffocate, which I appreciated. One was from the literal smoke machines blasting every few seconds, another was the permanent vape and ciggie clouds. The worst by far was the permeating overtone of compost. I asked a boy if he could smell it (he then asked me if my hot friends were single) and a breatha warned me ominously about the “poo hole”. I asked someone who claimed to live there what the poo hole was and he said it was a big pit outside where guests go to shit. Not even fucking kidding.
A bonus point gets added for the random old guy sitting in the tree drinking tomato sauce straight out of the bottle, watching over all of us. Did anyone else see this? Surely I can’t be the only one who saw him. Maybe he didn’t actually exist and it was just the smoke inhalation getting to me. Either way, it really put the icing on the cake (or in this case, the denim on the denim).
Costume: Britney and Justin at the 2001 AMA’s
Music: Anything from the early 2000’s
Froth Level: Loading your iPod with Flo Rida’s new album
With additional yarns from Asia Martusia and Naomii Seah.