The Gangster's Ball

So yesterday I went to The Gaelic for the Gangster's Ball. Subfuture bought tickets but the person he was planning to go with decided not to go after all (something about a breakup, rebound and getting back together again), so he needed other company for the night. Being unfortunately clueless, I didn't know I was supposed to dress up (and wouldn't have had the appropriate clothing anyway...) so I turned up in jeans and a purple top and felt very silly.

There was a brief miscommunication about which end of the Central tunnel we were supposed to be meeting at; my dinner of three cookies was obtained from Subway nearby, and paid for by Subfuture as well... he insisted, saying he owed me for coming along and being his company for the night, despite already having paid for the tickets. We spent about 20min in line waiting to get in, playing some odd planet conquering game on his iPhone, chatting about random things and briefly coming up with stuff we might do if the tickets he bought turn out to not actually get us in at the door. But they did.

I was already feeling out of place while in the queue with all the feather-clad people, and that feeling only increased when I got inside; since I'd driven to the train station and needed to drive back, drinking was out of the question. It also appeared to get more crowded as time went on, although that makes no sense because all the door and pre-sale tickets were sold out.

There were DJs, the Velvet Set 10 piece swing band playing live, professional swing dancers (and a whole lot of attendees who also danced on the dedicated dance floor), and burlesque dancers. A photo scene in the upstairs of The Gaelic Theatre featured a couple of couches - one tilted sideways - and a sticker outline of where a body may have been, all surrounded by yellow and blue-white crime scene tape had been set up; Subfuture got a photo taken of himself in it. I found myself analysing the mock scene for possibilities of trace evidence during the time it took for him to get his photo taken and printed, and concluded that it hadn't been a very well protected crime scene.

Subfuture and I spent some time sitting on the risers on the upper level, watching people walk past. There was a classy lady who stood out because she wasn't wearing the apparently requisite feather boa, nor the excess showing of flesh and cleavage; in fact, hers was a rather simple black dress with red outline/piping and a bow of the same colour at her waist.
Subfuture also pointed out a guy wearing a yellow zoot suit, and said it would be a sad fact if the man had actually just hired it for the evening. I didn't realise it was a zoot suit at the time; didn't find out until the man won the prize for best dressed male. Despite having that information, I don't see how owning a yellow grid-crossed suit is cool, but hiring one is not.

Stayed until ~00:25 so I could watch Kira Hu-La-La, the girl with the hoops. She was shiny. The swing dance pair (Kelly Ann Doll & Cougar Jones) were good too, some nice aerial moves. As for the 'actual' burlesque acts, I'd have to say Kiss Kill Cabaret were the best.

Headed home after that, with a strange urge to run; ran all around Central hoping to catch an express train but ended up having to get a slow one in the end.

I don't think I'll be going to another such event. An enjoyable evening, live music (albeit loud and not a preferred style of mine), interesting view of the dancers and (in)decent acts.
But, not my scene, or something. Can't put my finger on exactly why I wouldn't go again. Perhaps part of it was how it was all just an act; the entire place was just an act, although many people also enjoyed themselves at the same time.