Sleaze ball lives up to its name, being a night where everyone wears their most revealing outfit and parties pretty hard. It is a Sarah Lawrence tradition and has been canceled for almost the entirety of my Sarah Lawrence stay due to COVID. Now, in my last two weeks, Sleaze Ball was ready to commence.
It started pouring down rain but at some point you’re dressed up, made up, and liquored up with no other choice than to leave your house.
To be dressed appropriately is to be dressed inappropriately. The attire is lace and leather and strings. Your outfit has to be held together by safety pins, thread, and the will of God.
I went with my crop top/sports bra that says “Don’t Date Frat Boys,” sage wisdom that can go unused at Sarah Lawrence where there isn’t a fraternity or even a football team, but there is a drag queen at every party. On bottom, I had the same skirt I wore to the Spring formal that could double as a sweatband. Not showing your nipples or your thong counts as modesty, making me one of the most modest persons there.
So, the sleaze ball was in full effect.
The event provided us with glow sticks, which we mostly kept strapped to our thighs. The music, much like at the Spring formal, was ear splittingly loud.
Everyone had an attitude of “I don’t know what I’m doing here. I have so much schoolwork to do.” That prevented absolutely no one from not staying until the end of the night.
By the end of the night my knees hurt, which is how I gauge how much fun I had dancing at a party.
I will tell you that I am going to miss Sarah Lawrence College, not just because I will miss getting grinded on by a drag queen on a random Saturday night. I am going to miss the atmosphere and the people and how everyone is friendly and the way that I will never be in the same environment again where everyone is praised for and embraces their weirdness.
When asked how sleaze ball was, there was only one acceptable answer: it was nice and sleazy.
The Tragic Queen,
Raquel
The Tragic Queen 