Blitz Party
‘Pin up your victory rolls and wave your union jack with pride, dust off your stripes and polish your medals. Turn out that light and pile into our east end air raid shelter at the blitz party’.
On the outskirts of Shoreditch lies the discreet social world that is the blitz party. Like a wax museum with a pulse, Village underground is transformed into an air raid shelter equipped with sand bags, blacked out curtains and men in uniform. It’s time to leave reality at the door. Were in the middle of a war, Churchill’s alive and swing is in.
The notion of fantasy prevails tonight. Floral patterns, bow ties, hats and braces are found at every corner. The room is filled with women in knee length dresses, curls and red lipstick, all wanting to be Betty Grable for the night. We congregate by the tea stand edging further towards the bar. Class and elegance turn into decadence once the gin starts flowing. You can see it in everyone’s eyes, tonight’s about letting loose and ‘flipping your wig’. We’ve taken on alternative identities, sharing our new names and swapping stories of the war. I’m Rita Hayworth; all I need now is Humphrey Bogart.
Jazz and the big band sound echoes throughout the shelter, with the music of Benny Goodman, Bing Crosby and Dizzy Gillespie’s trumpets. There’s no ‘dead hoofers’ on the dance floor tonight. The “fine purveyors of filthy swing” Top Shelf Jazz serenade the crowd throughout the night. The six piece band tease and entertain with tales of the past. In between sets they promote their record sales by claiming that if nothing else it’s a good “clean surface for taking cocaine”. Afterwards the BBC continues to play music for the soul. Queue ‘Mack The Knife’ and we have a party.
There is a sense of community and pride in the air tonight. Every one chants along to the sounds of Clarence Henry’s ‘Aint Got No Home’, whilst waving their union Jacks high above. Limbs are everywhere as we try and recreate the Lindy Hop dance. The Mills Brothers ‘You Always Hurt The Ones You Love’ plays as romance brews under the archway. The dark doomed love of film noir crept into our hearts tonight. The drinks stop and the music slows, the cold harsh light of reality is still a far off notion to us all.
The braces come off and the lipstick fades as the end draws close. And yet the possibility of the make-believe lingers.
Next Blitz party: Saturday 5th May.
