FlyBy donned our Sunday best every day last week while heading to each house's spring formal. Our guide to the balls being inadequate, a more thorough investigation was necessary. Below: Winthrop, Cabot/Pfoho, Currier, and Adams.
If Winthrop’s formal—known to House insiders as the “Arbella Ball”—achieved anything last week, it was that it allowed guests to transcend both space and time. No, the event’s theme wasn’t “Take Me to the Moon” (thank God!). But the formal’s bifurcated set up—a dance party inside the JCR with a mildly classy live band and schmooze-fest outside in the Gore Courtyard—made FlyBy feel like it was teleporting between Junior Prom and a wedding reception.
We give HoCo some credit. There was a little less angst and a little more inebriation in the JCR than at Prom. But throughout the night there were no real signs of a grand old time—no DFMOs, no dirty dancing, not really even too much bumping and/or grinding. FlyBy blames that on the cheesy disco light medley and the jaded turn-of-the-millennium playlist that included hits like “My Boo” and “Numa Numa.”
Outside, the ball’s live band was a nice accent. It was really cool to have the musicians of Soul Boston play at Winthrop… last year. But it was kind of a downer to hear the same neo-soul renditions of “Brick House” and Gnarls Barkley’s “Crazy” that we'd all broken it down to the year before.
Props to Winthrop for the open bar and a big shout out to the BAT team for making the drinks surprisingly strong. Pretty good deal considering both the $15 tickets and the fact that we’re in an economic crisis. Take that, Fête and your elitist $50 tickets.
Tips for next year? Hoco: minimize awkward teleportation by keeping everyone together in the Courtyard. Also, get a new band.
As for FlyBy: more time at the open bar.
Though nothing in particular stood out at the Cabot/Pfoho formal, guests dolled up in above-the-knee dresses and well-cut tuxes left the great white tent on Moors Terrace slightly tipsy and reasonably satisfied. The food and drink selection were mediocre, the décor lovely but not especially memorable, and the music—let's just say DJ Strauss made for easy (and impassioned) conversation come Tuesday morning.
But overall, it was a lovely affair to remember. Stag attendees were in the minority, as dance floor participants consisted of couples dry-humping and making out to a barely recognizable Soulja Boy. Props to Cabot and Pfoho for a well planned and executed (p)formal. Too bad Cabot isn't speaking to its superimposed neighbor anymore after Pfoho made off with the remaining $800 worth of alcohol at the sweaty night's end.