Hen parties suck
Wednesday, 29 June, 2011
HEN PARTIES SUCK ! Well they do when someone experience of the usual hen party is so bad it puts them off having a hen party at all. I was chatting to one of my twitter buddies Emma (aka Cloggins aka The Wedding Reporter) who was one of the lovely models who did the photo shoot for this site and asked her what she did for her hen party. She replied that she didn't have one and when I asked why she said she would write it down for me (that's how she rolls). So I'll hand over to Emma to tell you all about it.
‘It’s Saturday night again in Bristol city centre. I stand behind the three feet of solid mahogany that will act as a barrier between me and a thousand or so very drunk people during the course of the evening. The sun begins to set as the coloured lights flash and the music surges ever louder. The sound of laughter, shouting, jibes and jokes competes with the undulating bass and synthesised popular music.
“’Ere love, got any cider?”
The doormen separate the wheat from the very very chaff chav, leaving us with only the crème-de-la-crème of weekend revellers. No blokes in shorts who have been boozing all day, no blow-up dolls of any variety, no troublemakers; just the kids who want to have a good time on fruity cocktails and cheesy music.
Nonetheless, they still plague me, these gaggles of women who stream in with furry deely-boppers, pink sashes and occasionally highly unflattering costumes. I serve them their pints of cider and black, sipped daintily through phallic shaped straws, whilst wondering whose idea it was to truss their own mother (or is that a grandmother?) up in a corset and fishnets under an ill-advised ‘burlesque’ theme.
I watch in no little distaste as they talk to random men in more intimate ways than I would talk to my own partner. I observe the pint pots evaporate, refill, evaporate again and the drinkers begin to hump my bar, the banisters, each other, anything that moves in fact, to great gales of laughter.
And this is why I never wanted a hen party.
Not only am I not that girl, I’ve also seen too many of them for even the words ‘Hen’ and ‘Party’ not to send shivers through me when used in conjunction. I like a good time but I don’t personally drink, so even though any party of the poultry kind would never reap the same results that I witness on a weekly basis, I would still end up having to look after a whole bunch of drunken friends at my own party.
In hindsight, I would have loved a vintage hen party. The opportunity to dress up, be silly and take pictures of ourselves is something that all of my friends regularly leap at. The thought of supporting small independent businesses to achieve that ends would have filled me with a sense of the greater good. The chance to be a proper lady for a day would have been too good to miss.
Luckily for me, I’ve got some amazing friends who did not allow me to be a total party-pooper. Knowing how rare and treasured my nights off are, they sprung a surprise by bringing the party to me. On a random Saturday as I headed out to the chippy before work, they appeared with my favourite things: curry, fizzy drinks, cupcakes and a whole confectionery of sweeties. We had the most girly, giggly night and I didn’t have to talk to one single stranger or be publicly humiliated.
And then on a separate night, my other friends surprised me. Having had a very quaint (and filling!) afternoon tea at The Grosvenor House Hotel in Mayfair, I thought my non-hen-do (or nen-do) with my BFF was all done. Until we got back to her house and the whole place had been decorated in ironic penis shaped balloons and a delicious bolognaise dinner had been cooked for me on, yes you guessed it, a heap of phallic shaped pasta. We sang Bon Jovi karaoke until 1am and woke up with hoarse voices.
In the end it occurred to me that it doesn’t really matter what you do. The spirit of the event is that you gather your absolute bestest friends around you and do something that makes you laugh so hard that you can no longer remember what you’re laughing about. It’s about wanting to savour the moment so much that you can’t help but take photos constantly to remind yourself at a later date.
I’d just prefer it if you left the drunken debauchery and willies out of it.’
The gorgeous Emma photo: Lee Allen Photography
I want this site to be a refuge for people who are on the verge of saying 'no' to having a hen party because they don't want to be one of 'those' girls who looks like a sex shop has thrown up on them. A 'Hen Party' should be open to interpretation just like weddings are now, where the day is defined by you and not some silly traditions.
I want to thank Emma for her post and putting her experiences far better than I could. Also brides to be go and check out her wedding reporting service it's new, shiny and most brilliant.