The candyraver-theme party was pretty funny. First things first: I wasn’t ever much of a candyraver. I had a pacifyer in 1996 (it was a gift from a friend who now works at NASA), but I never decended into the plastic jewelry and fuzzy backpacks that defined the candyraver movement. Sure: there was the night I wore a stuffed yellow smiley-face hanging from my raver-y wallet chain, but other than that! I swear: I really wasn’t a candyraver. (Want to know more about candyraver fashion? Read this funny article, subtitled “The tools of a colorful culture.”)

That was part of what made it extra fun to dress up for this party. In a way, we were getting even more silly than we’d allow ourselves to when we were at our silliest. I mean, I used to get pretty ridiculous. But I never carried a stuffed animal around a party. Ever.

But it was sort of weird to be somewhat ironically dressing up in these clothes that really weren’t THAT different from what we were wearing, oh, six or seven years ago. What’s the statute of limitations on retro? Were we making fun of ourselves back then? Or the ravers who are still out in droves every weekend? It was a little confusing.

That said, it was pretty fun to act high all night. Whenever a friend showed up at the party, I’d rush up to them, eyes bulged out like saucers, pacifyer in mouth. I’d rub the guest’s arm and slur around the binky, “I’m soooooooo glad you’re here! There’s totally a friend I want you to meet!” Then I’d pull out the stuffed monkey and say “This is Spanky! He loooooves hugs!! I LOVE HUGS, TOO!”

Seriously: this kept me entertained for hours.

But then the really interesting part was when some folks at the party actually, um shall we say, authentically got into that mindframe. Then it got tricky. Was I mocking them? Celebrating them? Satirizing them? Ack! It’s all too meta! I can’t keep track! Someone pass me the stuffed monkey!

Here are the photos.