Don't just party...PARADE.
Blakeshine on Parades:
"With all historical parades, there are two roles to choose from- the audience or the Paraders.
I remember being a kid in my hometown of Novato, California and sitting on the sidewalk with my mom watching the 4th of July Parade march through our quaint downtown. I watched the performers with wide eyes and waved to people sitting on the back of their convertibles with my tiny flag. Even at a young age I knew I didn’t want to just be in the audience…I wanted to be part of the party, the experience, the celebration…I wanted to be in the damn Parade.
Fast forward too many year later and holy shit- I’ve still never been in one. I’ve been on stages a plenty, but still never a Parade…So when chatting with Courtney about our favorite summer memories - about country fairs and funnel cake, water parks and mermaids…we both discovered our shared love of Parades and the party carnage they leave in their wake. And we decided that as our world opens up and people claw their way out of the house they’ve been cooped up in for over a year, Of The Night should meet this current moment with confetti in hand! So we created a weekend party package that encourages people to get outside and rediscover their neighborhood. A party package that encourages people to wave to strangers and ring joy through the streets . A party package that encourages people to not just be the audience, but be the fucking Paraders."
Courtney on Parades:
"As an adult, I have always had an innate obsession with Parades. The post-Parade carnage, the spectacular chaos caused to traffic due to methodically coordinate Parade routes, the stickiness of the cement, the surreal moment when the Parade ends and reality sets back in. I absolutely delight in the over-stimulation.
Most of this obsession surrounded childhood memories of Disney World.
That was until, as an adult, I first watched The Rose Parade, and my obsession took on a whole new form.
I was hungover….DEEPLY hungover. The kinda hangover attributed to a New Year’s Eve where I lost count on martini #6. The even-room-service-can’t-fix-this kinda hangover.
With one eye barely open, I attempted to nurse my New Year’s Day hangover with a combination of massive sighs, groans, and body wiggles. I somehow found the remote control perched on the ledge and opted for default programming. There was absolutely no way I had the momentum to pick a channel.
And that’s when I saw her, in all her emblematic beauty. The Rose Parade. A Pasadena namesake that, despite my deep obsession with Los Angeles and all her kitschy wonders, I had never viscerally consumed. I was in awe. This was definitely not the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade - and I was living for it.
The Rose Parade is, in a word: vibey. The florals are only beat by the fantastic array of community-driven organizations painted with outlandish grins, donning eccentric ensembles. But I would be remiss to not mention the flower creations, which are difficult for the mind to comprehend (with or without a hangover). All this *before* Jesus on a bed of tulips entered by peripheral vision.
Hangover be damned.
Moral of the story? Parades are an experience so drenched in outlandish, you have absolutely no option but to disassociate from your day-to-day. They are a color-drenched bonanza of whimsy that rarely graces our society. We need.more.parades.
So - in the words of Of The Night - why party, when you can PARADE?"