Super Exclusive Parties and Super Rich Kids

I've got a glass of Bacchus tonic wine in front of me. I'm not going to lie, it's pretty grim. It's exactly what you'd get if someone took some port and mixed it with tonic. It tastes like medicine and not in a good way. I suppose it's an acquired taste. Yes, it must be. I assure you that by the time I type that last word, I will have acquired it. It tastes like struggles. When I was in University, I drank cheap shitty wine by the kilo because I believed that cheap shitty vinegary wine was a fundamental part of the student experience. The same shall be true of Bacchus. Bacchus shall be the beverage of my mid-mid twenties to my mid-twenties. I shall approach them for an endorsement tomorrow. I'm in my the end justifies the means phase. Drunkenness is no great distinguisher of poisons and all alcohol is poison. You're probably thinking that this one is about Bacchus, but it isn't. It's about a super exclusive party that I, Afam, was invited to because I am Afam, and I am great. If you disagree with me go away. Your bad mojo is jinxing me. I kid. I don't care why you read, as long as you read. In your hatred, in your love; in your revulsion, in your adoration; read my blog.

Here I'm wearing a United Colours of Benetton white shirt with floral embroidery. It's a great fruity shirt. It's dressy without being conspicuous. I'm also wearing blue jeans from Espirit and brow tassled loafers from Russel and Bromley. That's what I wore to the party by the way


I just remembered that I forgot to tell you what exactly Bacchus is. Bacchus is a Nigerian made tonic wine. I don't know where they get their grapes from, but I can tell you that I'm 3 sips in, and I love it already. Forget about all of that rubbish about it being grim. It's grimly awesome, and it's the best medicine I've ever tasted. It's pretty strong at 18%, but strength is also equal to economy. As a trained economist, I'm all about the economy of things. Yes, SYSTEM, EFFICIENCY AND ECONOMY!!

On the day of the party, I had another. It was the Reloaded magazine party. There was a time when I might have done some work for them, but I think that's dead now. I'm not sad. Sometimes things don't work out and there's beauty in that. You pick yourself up and walk. If you're lucky you run. I'm lucky. I'm sprinting. The Reloaded magazine party was meant to start at 5pm, but when I got there at 8 it hadn't started. I didn't wait for a minute. There was no point really. You see in my world every moment is pregnant with opportunity. If you go to this party, and speak to this person who's incredibly important, you might get work that's big enough to change everything. Every moment is filled with the promise of success. On that night in particular, I was over it. I wasn't going to wait till 10 for the dream of a dream. I found the very idea of it dishonourable. I'm Afam. I'm no man's doormat. I won't let anyone cut open my head and shit down my neck for free. So I hopped in the pimp mobil and sped to Ikoyi.

I could tell you where exactly in Ikoyi the party was but I won't. And I could tell you which prominent Lagos family hosted it but I won't. Those parts of the story are uninteresting to me and so I shan't bother with them. All you need to know about the house is that it is beautiful. And all you need to know about the family, is that I felt welcome. I was invited by a young lady called Dede. She's magnificent. That phrase is enough. Any more words extolling her virtues would only diminish her in your eyes. In this instance, your eyes are the ones that matter most for after I put this up, I lose all possession of it. You will interprete it the way you see fit and I will have to live with your various interpretations. If you say that it's sarcastic, it is, and if you say that it's fake, then it is. But I'm a rambling madman, a phrase will never be enough. Even if it is enough for you, it'll never be enough for me. Dede wears a mask at all times. It's a perfectly natural mask, and that's its best and most damning quality. She makes it clear that there's more than one level to her, and you envy the people who've made it past the first. The amazing thing is, when you're speaking to her one on one, you're never quite sure what level you're on. Her smile is easy. Her movement is self assured.

The decor was vaguely reminiscent of a harem. It had something to do with the low sofas and the primary and secondary coloured lighting. The crowd was weird. Well off Nigerian twenty somethings together are always weird. They're too concerned about how they are perceived to let loose, so even when they speak to one another, the conversation is stilted and stiff. They're far too wound up to have fun when they're gathered en masse. So they tend to stick to the people they know best, surrounded by copious amounts of the only legal social lubricant apart from cigarettes I know of.

The thing about this party is that they somehow manage to get the best, most entertaining, most exciting performers every year. This year they had Temi Dollface, Ice Prince Zamani and Wizkid.

Temi Dollface, is an extraordinary performer. She makes every effort to involve her audience. Most Nigerian performers screech to their backing tracks but not she. Her music is always live. She travels with her band back up singers who double up as azonto and etighi masters. She's only got one single so far, Pata Pata. It's a banger, made all the more interesting by its interactive video. The crowd was difficult. The children of the rich aren't ones to display their fandom publicly. Before they deign to sing along, they probably have the following conversation with themselves in their heads.

Enter Super Rich Kid (SRK), and Super Rich Kid's alter ego (SRKA)

SRKA: I love this song. I think I'm going to go to the dance floor and dance like a dervish.

SRK: You'll do no such thing. Look at everyone watching. People will talk.

SRKA: But who cares? Everybody talks. Let them say what they will.

SRK: I care. And who's the person we'll be dancing to? They're nobody. 

SRKA: But I really like the song!

SRK: I'd understand if it were Dbanj or Wizkid but who the who is Temi Dollface? 

She's used to this sort of thing. It's difficult to be as stiff as our exemplary fellow when she takes the stage. She was so determined to gain the attention of her audience that at one stage she lay down on it and said that she wouldn't stand up until our reaction got louder.

Yes, she's looking at me here. I'm a little bit of an attention grabber... or she's a little bit of a camera lover. I only had my iphone camera but I wasn't going to miss this shot.  

She's taking off her shoes here. I suspect that they were hurting. I was shocked, but not that shocked. Temi's a little bit mad you see. That's why we get on. Or I think that's why we get on. Yes, I'm being a little familiar here. Maybe I'll get the courage to ask her for her blackberry messenger pin the next time I see her. I'll keep you posted.  

How Gaga is this? 
Sometime after her came Ice Prince Zamani. He was alright, but I didn't get any pictures so I'll skip him. Don't be rude. He got a mention. That's enough isn't it?

Lastly we have Wizkid.



I quite like Wizkid, he's got as many hits as Dbanj  in less than half the time and that's a commendable feat. His face is too fresh though. I mean, it looks prepubescent. I'll probably ask him if he wears makeup the next time I see him.

The party was totes amaze.
That's me with a can of Gulder. Gulder is a decent Lager you know? 

I'm tired and tipsy now, so I'm going to go to sleep. You don't mind do you? I'm not sure what this post was exactly. It's quite possible that I lost my way half way through. Until next time.

Happy Days,
Afam

1 comment:

chime murphy said...

love what you doing, amazing articles you have, i mean really amazing.that on awkwardness is so hilarious that i couldn't help but laugh.keep it up

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