My first proper party since March 2020

Trudy gets the feeling that despite the lack of restrictions, most people at the party were struggling to find their pre-pandemic mojo. By Christine Manby

(Illustration by Tom Ford)

It’s been a busy weekend. Almost like a weekend in the Before Times. On Friday night, I went to my first proper party since March 2020. It was my friend Mary’s fiftieth and it was fancy dress. The theme was Cabaret. Mary, who is one of those rare and sickening people who actually used lockdown for self-improvement, showed off her new killer thighs by dressing as Sally Bowles (Liza Minelli-era). Having absolutely failed to spend the last year and a half preparing to wear a leotard in public, I went old school, dressing as Fraulein Schneider in an improvised get-up that involved three grey cardigans. It was clear that most people thought I hadn’t bothered to get dressed up at all, but at least having to explain my costume meant that I ended up having a lot of interesting conversations.

I say “interesting”, but I get the feeling that despite having been released from social restrictions on Bojo’s much-vaunted “freedom day” way back in the early summer, most of us are still finding it hard to regain our party mojo. I wasn’t the only person who hadn’t been to a proper party in more than 18 months. To be in a room with so many other people still felt faintly transgressive; as though we were in a speakeasy in 1920s New York and the police might come storming in at any moment. We rushed to tell each other what had happened since we last met – in my case, not a lot – talking over each other in our haste to get our stories out before someone implements Plan C. It was as if we had forgotten how to pace a conversation without the use of that little “hand-up” icon on group chat. Perhaps every in-person gathering going forward should involve a conch, Lord of the Flies-style.