August, 30, Northcote
Saturday: It’s been two months since I moved to Melbourne from London. I’d never been here before I moved and came with nothing but a backpack and big dreams (aka had a menty b that went too far).
Some thoughts of Melbourne nightlife so far:
- People are warm and friendly. Less stush. It’s nice!
- There’s some appalling DJs but there are also some great DJs
- Same as above re: fashion
- I still can’t quite believe the drug prices
I’ve had a good array of experiences so far, from queer community raves to regrettable late/early finishes at the Peel.
For tonight, I had a loose invite from a friend to a random’s birthday with a $20 door charge??? I was also told to bring my USB in case I wanted to DJ; my mixing skills are abysmal but I’ve been listening to a ridiculous trance remix of Royals by Lorde all week and I can’t wait to play it. I’ve spent most of the week working across different hospitality jobs so I was ready to spend at least half of my weekly earnings.
9:30pm: Towards the end of a shift, my manager at the Japanese restaurant I’ve been working at in St Kilda asks me if I want to finish early and I jump at the opportunity.
I change in five minutes and leave bashful as my colleague compliments my outfit. I book a car while smoking a cigarette from a $50 pack I irresponsibly bought last week from a cigarette machine in the club (a novelty for me).
10:30pm: Two different friends have invited me to Hope Street. The vibes are cute and the DJ is fab, but both my friends inform me they’re calling it a night as they’ve been there for hours. All of a sudden I’m plan-less and friend-less. A friend’s friend buys me a shot and we convince the bartender to give us another for free ($0).
She hands me her half-full blue margarita. I ask her if she wants a cigarette, she says she prefers her own as she pulls out a pack of skinny ones from her purse. I will follow this girl to the grave.
11pm: Hope Street annoyingly shuts but we get invited to a girl’s place a ten-minute walk away. I meet the host and she has five-inch-long stiletto green nails which immediately makes me feel safe. She hands me a mysterious lychee-flavoured drink which is dangerously drinkable and I try Shapes for the first time and they were kinda mid.
There are about 10 of us in the house and we start playing Pick It Up and Preach and I have never been more entertained.
12am: Someone books a car to go see someone’s friend DJ at Avalon. There’s a cover charge but we haggle and someone who is not me pays for everyone. I go to the bar and I see WAP shots are $5. I’ve never had one before so I ask the bartender what it is and she tells me it’s a Wet Ass Pussy shot… I said I know that but what’s in it. She doesn’t know. I order four ($20).
I actually recognise the DJ from another party I’ve been to and they are sick. Having a great and silly time as someone in the group does the TikTok water dance IRL and later on the DJ plays an insane remix of Lost by Frank Ocean. I get a tequila lemonade for $12 and dance until the end of their set.
1am: The DJ tells us they’re playing at a warehouse party in Brunswick after and airdrops me a screenshot of how to find the location.
Only two of us want to keep going but as we loiter we meet this cute couple who we convince to come with us. In the car there (which I book this time around! It’s only $15.97) I ask them if they’re in love to which they reply they’re on a second date. The guy is from New York and he’s also just moved here. I can’t help but wonder whether he’s a pansexual king and whether I’ll be sneakily splitting the two apart tonight. G*** if you read this, HMU.
2am: There’s a door charge for the party but we convince the door person to let us in for free ($0). The sound quality is very questionable but there’s a good energy in the air. The DIY bar only sells beer and wine in small plastic cups. My sexually ambiguous king buys me and him (!) a drink and offers me a bump of surprisingly strong K. I go pee and while queueing I and the girl in front of me notice the wall is made of chalkboard. We draw each other and also a penis.
3am: The person I’m with lightly vomits in front of the DJ while we’re dancing but I grab their hand and take them to the bin to finish off before anyone can notice. We go outside and I bump into someone I met on my first weekend here and haven’t seen since. They ask me how my existential crisis is going. I sigh and go buy two more white wines ($20.51). I get offered another bump of K and before I know it I’m lying down on the concrete
with my eyes closed. I can overhear the people I was chatting to just before talk about how they actually hate London and I decide it’s time to leave, swiftly say my goodbyes and jump in a car that someone books me.
4am: I scroll through a food delivery app with one eye open, still discombobulated by the mystery K, before my body shuts down. I wake up the morning and head straight to the CBD to march in solidarity with Palestine.
See more Night Out Receipts here.
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