As I've observed dozens of times over the past few weeks, the great appeal of this party is in its multiple interpretations. I'm a sucker for high-concept parties (see: '40s 40s) and I love how moving around the emphasis in "That Doesn't Fit You" can dramatically change the meaning of the phrase. Though the emphasis-initial version works for prettymuch everything; let's ignore that.
Here's Ben in drag, on the Internet for all to see. That's really what this page is all about: posting compromising pictures of sophomores at parties. Ben, your girlfriend's clothes don't fit you, though you did coordinate admirably. The makeup was a nice touch. Ben's girlfriend, also pictured, went for a classic "that doesn't fit you" in an oversize jersey.
The party was ostensibly BYOB, an especially useful arrangement since we'd inadvertently emailed an invitation to the hall director. That said, Jubb bought a 24-pack of Jacob Huckstein beer for about $4. For a $4-a-case beer, it's not as bad as you'd think, but then again how could it be?
Each can has a surgeon general's warning but nothing about the alcohol percentage, and each boasts, rather vaguely, that it was "Brewed in the Finest European Traditions." Just south of St. Cloud, in Cold Spring, Minnesota.
Anyone daring enough was welcome to try them. Knowing in advance that this was the only liquor we had, I bought myself a private reserve of Köstrizer schwarzbier, always a good decision, and a cheap bottle of peach schnapps to share with gold and platinum club members.
We made the mistake of telling everyone the party started at 10-10:30, failing to compensate for Lawrence Time. The first group of guests showed up a little after eleven, and most came even later. Because god forbid a Lawrentian should be the first to show up at a party.
Here's Jagger, our campus Christian Scientist, in one of my favorite costumes. Jagger, that doesn't fit you! Her roommate also came as something she'd best avoid: Jinx dressed up as a giant nut, allowing me to — finally — use the Almond Joy slogan as a pickup line.
The costumes based on the "That doesn't fit you" interation were instructive.
Alan, for example, wore an all-denim outfit. I thought he was going for a biker look, and accidentally insulted someone while under that impression, but that's a long and relatively uninteresting story. Zack, a loyal resident of St. Paul, decided to support the Pack for a night. Sockless Pete, who graduated last year, bucked expectations by not cross-dressing, in fact, not dressing up much at all.
I was occasionally surprised at the clothing people thought was antithetical to their personalities. To give one example, Nora dressed in cheerleader pink, but I can see her wearing that if she had fallen in with a different group at college. Maybe it's because I don't know her very well, but it reminded me of a piece of historical fiction I once read, where the British ruled America and Lincoln was a revolutionary leader. Why couldn't he support the British, if that's what he grew up with?
I had no idea what to wear. Jonas, protective of his theme, demanded that departures from the basic premise (clothing that doesn't fit) not be lame, and I couldn't think of anything justifiably creative. Jinx and Jagger hooked me up, and I spun my lack of creativity as a moral victory.
Here's the least-gay picture of me. Jubb couldn't get anything cool from Amelia II, so he ended wearing his form-fitting bodysuit, first with shorts to spare our eyes, and then without shorts after someone complained that his costume wasn't thematic.
Note my costume, which I found not only fun but, in the particular way it didn't fit me, especially apt. French writing and adorable pink belts are unlikely to find their way into my wardrobe.
We were loud and danced and some foolish people (they drank from the jug of Carla Rossi) threw up, but we didn't get busted. It was a good party, by some accounts our best this schoolyear, though I need to think about that one. Well, I had a good time.
