Party - 2007 Mardi Gras Party
It’s amazing to think how much things can change in 29 years. What was once a protest borne from the total disregard of gay and lesbian rights is, today, Sydney’s annual Mardi Gras festival – one of the biggest, boldest and most ostentatious Gay Pride events in the world.
Up to 300,000 spectators saw the parade this year, with its more than 8,000 performers spread over 120 floats and while Rio can dish out a whole lot more than that in Carnivale, or New Orleans during their celebrations, only Sydney packs it all into one night – and follows it up with a party like nowhere else on earth.
And while this reviewer might have found his way out of the closet some five years ago, I’d still never been to The Party. Without a doubt a celebration on par with the legendary Alegria in New York, Black & Blue in Montreal and Palm Springs’ White Party (though definitely not as racy as it used to be), I was looking forward to actually getting there without distractions or delay.
Sadly, that was the first thing we encountered, as hundreds of punters got trapped at the door in a queue which swung halfway to South Dowling Street across the oval from the Royal Hall of Industries. It was very, very slow going, made so by the elaborate security check on entry. Given the threats of a police raid earlier in the week, and the sad fate of Azure, it was nonetheless taken with good humour and a credit to everyone there. I popped my head by later to find it had only cleared by close to 2am.
Skipping forward two hours though, on entry we were met by a sea of humanity, all stilettos, leather straps and tight t-shirts chatting amicably under the floodlights between the RHI and Hordern Pavilion. Dubbed the Gaydar.com.au Forecourt, at its head was the giant glow-green castle float Gaydar ran at the head of the parade, only now with a DJ on its back. It was still pretty sedate so, grabbing a drink and fold-up fan at the Gaydar stall, we went in to the RHI to find our friends. One had just made his debut marching in the parade, and so wasn’t hard to find wrapped in a skimpy towel and blue glowsticks, dancing away to Jake Kilby and Greg Boladian, who were first on in that cavernous space.
Decked out to resemble a sort of white, blue and silver Uluru, a massive lighting rig and although equally massive, a totally underdone sound system surrounded the main wooden floor, which had been laid to save our ankles. Hugs, smiles and kisses were exchanged – it’s always nice to see a friend, especially after lining up as we did – but it wasn’t long before we were on our way again, this time to the Hordern.
By now the forecourt was busy, and as the natural focal point for the whole party we kept bumping into people we hadn’t seen in ages. For a Mardi Gras Party virgin as yours truly, I could see that the chance to meet people you only see once a year – here – was as valuable as the chance to dance the night away together, as one diverse, enormous 17,000-strong community.
We passed the ACON stall, grabbed a couple of safe sex packs and dove into the Hordern in time to catch Boy George step up to the decks. A true gay icon, he was resplendent in red velvet fedora, black dress shirt and a cheeky grin which you could see even from the back. We slowly inched forward as he dropped a divafied version of You Spin Me Right Round and the room erupted in a wave of hands and lasers. This blended into the Eurythmics’ classic Sweet Dreams , and while he wasn’t mixing all that technically, he knew how to pick a song right for that time and place. And just then, the right time and place was right here, and right now.
In all the melee we forgot to go and check out the Dome, which was banging with the sound of The Presets. Covered in silver foil and painted to symbolise sensation, the Dome was minimally lit with an array trained on the plaster reliefs inside and the ventilation set to minimum, making the place feel like a sauna. It was a great setting for Stereogamous – the duo of Seymour Butz (of Kooky and Ken’s fame) and Paul Mac – but less so for the Bang Gang DJs, who were spinning one of the slowest and sleaziest sets I’ve ever heard. We ventured out the side for a moment, into the White Room chillout space, then headed outside, this time to the Members’ Bar and Forum cabaret space.
There’s a time in every relationship when you discover something about your partner you didn’t know, and here I discovered my other half had a real thing for what he dubs ‘retro-camp’ – only this was being dished out by Vanessa Wagner, and the song was One Night Only , made popular again on the Dreamgirls soundtrack. While he toddled off downstairs I ducked upstairs, to see the much-hyped lovesacs (very comfortable oversized beanbags), grab a drink from the no-queue bar and watch the chaos below from above. It’s Raining Men blared out and below, I could see everyone was having a damn good time. Before he could get too lost among the lycra-clad decorations, I grabbed my other half and ducked out to check out the lesbian Fuse space next door.
And the door was, sadly, about as far as we could get with Fuse – but from the outside it had the appearance of, say, Deckbar on a packed Sunday afternoon and the music was probably my favourite on the night – upbeat, catchy, cheeky and without anything resembling a handbag. As a women’s-only space though there was sadly no chance of us ever getting in. In the past, I’ve taunted the security guards by saying I’d return in a full-length sequinned Islamic bodycover – so now here’s one project I might actually resurrect for next year!
Which really was just as well, since by now the sun was starting to creep over the floodlights of Fox Studios and the crowd had noticeably thinned. We returned to the RHI to scrape our towel-clad friend from the speaker stacks, popped in for a quick boogie to Mark Murphy in the Dome, and grabbed a cab to a warm cup of tea and a hot shower. This Party virgin had well and truly popped his cherry – but there was another coming – Toybox in four hours!
Happy Mardi Gras everyone.
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Christian Taylor
said ages ago