I’m sure it can’t be just me but does New Years Eve get slightly less exciting every year? I am still just about young enough to remember days when it interested me but clearly I am also getting just a bit too old because this year all I can muster is a shrug of my aged shoulders.
In Ye Olden Days I recall weekends spent shopping for a new top for the night, discussions of the pros and cons of various going-out options, the purchase of booze, the preparatory bath on the day in question. I still remember making a panicky phonecall to a good friend of mine many years ago while in the middle of a dressing-for-NYE crisis. “Will I look like a prostitute if I wear a slutty corset top with slutty knee high boots?” I wanted to know (For the record: yes I did).
Another friend and I were recently discussing our ideal New Years Eve. I think the consensus was a big boozy dinner party with everyone we liked, nobody we didn’t and the opportunity for some enthusiastic if misguided dancing. That sounds bloody good to me. Traipsing around the city in sky-high heels and forking out loads of dosh for five drink tokens and the right to have my arse felt up by a sweaty bogan does not.
Maybe if I were carefree and single I might feel differently but, even so, I think New Years is undergoing the same change for me that Christmas did between the ages of about 15 and 20. Once the excitement, the magic and the hedonism are gone all you’re left with is a day off work, a credit card bill and a crushing hangover.
Is this was getting old feels like?