From dressing up in your finest to losing yourself on the dance floor, there is nothing quite like a party, big or small, and the fun and chaos of coming together with friends, and strangers alike.
So for the latest in our semi-regular nostalgia series Me, back then, we asked a few friends of Ensemble to step into the party time machine and share the most memorable, outrageous, extravagant or special (or all of the above) gathering that they’ve ever attended – enjoy the memories, below.
Caroline Barron, author
This photo is from the Nova Models Christmas party, 2002. Every year we'd try and one-up our parties – the year before was 'Retro' at Match Bar, which was underneath the agency HQ on Pitt Street. At that one, an enthusiastic partygoer dressed as a cop arrested Eric Watson 'for impersonating Eric Watson'. But in 2002 it was 'Dress in Black' at the private room at Coast Bar, which was on top of the old Hewlett-Packard building on Princes Wharf – owned by the notorious Philip Sturm, who was later convicted on sex and drug charges. My dress is by Justified and hair was by Richard Kavanagh!
Kristine Crabb, Gloria designer
It was spring 2018 and I threw a party for my 40th birthday. I wanted it to be a full sensory event: sights, sounds, scents, flavours, dancing, connection, sustenance, love and the future! Set in our Miss Crabb studio in Grey Lynn.
All my dear ones were there, and everyone was dressed in full decadence – the outfits of the guests made my night, everyone was so beautiful and joyful. I wore an ivory silk yoryu raw edge sack of sorts;.. a toile that I had made that year as a study.
As part of the feast I asked Fort Greene to create a human body out of bread, which they made eloquently and willingly. A slightly symbolic and macabre aspect (la petite mort/life begins at 40 etc – lol), which went with deliciously rustic and rich accompaniments.
The banquet table was laden and overtaken with huge wild and fragrant florals by Nina Powierza and candelabra from Real Time and candles and scents from Curionoir. Accompanied beautiful esoteric sounds of many genres, we had my friends Transcendental Radiations, Scarlett and friends and Go Nuclear; and dancing till the small hours. But not too late, as I like to go to bed early!
Yawynne Yem, writer
A few years back, my best friend Joanna got tipped off by a hospo friend that Jack Harlow was hosting his tour wrap party in Auckland. It felt like my calling to get us in. The Sunday of the party, we found ourselves walking to the club after a British folk concert (lol). Dressed more Thumbelina than Thotiana, we approached the security guards stone-faced with fake confidence – we had a reliable name to lie with. That’s my #1 tip for getting into parties you’re not meant to be at – a good name. Because when the security guards asked who told us to come, said fake name allowed us to remain by the table, unlike the group that got turned away. Amateurs. Ten humiliating minutes in line later, the vetting was over. The guard went “Yup, you two. Phones in the bag”.
What no one tells you about a celebrity after party though is how long it actually takes for them to arrive. In a room of 30 hot-but-phoneless girls, an open bar and about 3.5 hours to kill, all there is to do is get blackout. The room did however light with hope when the man finally arrived, even me with my 2cm ass. I approached him, ready to be met with enchantment, “Hi, I’m Yawynne.” He replied, “Nice to meet you… Again.” A terrible impression had already been made (and forgotten) sometime during his arrival. Sigh. Joanna doesn’t even remember seeing his face. We’d literally watched him wave his own arms to First Class, how could she forget? What she remembers however, is getting kicked out at about 4am for krumping alone on the dancefloor, then switching to panic mode about leaving my black blazer behind. I pretended not to know her. That’s what best friends are for. To humble you for random American rappers, but to also give you the blind confidence to execute the best nights ever.
Kate Sylvester, fashion designer
I didn’t actually have my own 21party but then in 2014 we celebrated 21 years of the brand Kate Sylvester and the party was completely glorious.
It was at the Grey Lynn Bowling Club and we had a beautiful mix of fashion friends, personal friends and family.
The band The Beach Pigs played and then our 13-year-old sons did a cover of The Pixies Here Comes Your Man.
We had a disco ball, a pig on a spit, a birthday cake and then a burlesque dancer jumped out of a cake striping off layers and layers of archive Kate Sylvester right down to her Kate Sylvester knickers.
From then on it was just a blur of dancing, smiling, radiant faces until noise control finally shut us down.
I wore a lace dress from our summer 2010 Charming Man collection – it looked great in 2014 and I’m still partying in it in 2024!
Amanda Linnell, writer and editor
I’ve danced the can-can with the late Yves Carcelle, the former head of Louis Vuitton and a man who loved to party, under the soaring ceilings and enormous chandeliers of the Palais des Rois Sardes in Nice. Dress? Kate Sylvester. I’ve busted some (pretty-tragic-but-thought-they-were-great-at-the-time) moves to rapper A$AP Ferg at the invite-only basement party under the Tiffany store in Sydney. Outfit? Slinky Georgia Alice. And partied into the wee small hours at Rome's Grand Hotel Plaza, thanks to DJs Peggy Gou and Seth Troxler. Dress code: Giambattista Valli-inspired tutus. And, I have got my groove on with a bunch of actors and British media at an underground jazz club in San Francisco. Look? Head-to-toe Zambesi. All amazing, never-to-be-forgotten parties and experiences, thanks to my career as a magazine editor.
The truth, however, the best parties involve being at home, surrounded by the people I love the most. Usually it’s outdoors, under the stars, grass underfoot, friends on the music, shenanigans in the bushes, long lively conversations on the deck, the kitchen a growing messy array of bottles and non-stop dancing until the break of dawn. Outfit? It doesn’t matter at all.
Karen Walker, fashion designer
We’ve all had trouble getting people to leave the house after a party but here’s a chic way of doing it that I learnt from Her Late Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II. In 2018 she invited me to bash at her London pad, a.k.a, Buckingham Palace. The bash was great. As you’d expect. When it was time to wrap it up, there were 50 or so of us lingering, enjoying Her Majesty’s very generous hospitality in one of the main salons, ceiling to floor with priceless art. At a certain point I realised I was a quarter of the way further down the room, not long after I realised I was half way down, then three quarters of the way down. How was it I was moving along the room, to the exit I might add, without intending to be? I looked behind me and saw 30 or 40 footmen, white gloves and all, shoulder-to-shoulder in a line across the room, moving glacially, imperceptibly, towards the exit, herding us lingering guests, sheeplike, towards the top of the staircase that lead to the front door. We got the hint. But dragged it out! Something to try at home next time you’ve guests outstaying their welcome?
Kathryn Wilson, footwear designer
This was at the cocktail party we had at Sky City to welcome Jimmy Choo to New Zealand, called ‘the art of footwear’. We created a 10m diameter shoe chandelier with 200 pairs of shoes and 1000 metres of ribbon hanging from the ceiling… A career highlight for me that I will always remember.
Zoe Walker Ahwa, Ensemble co-founder
The most epic and, depending on what mood I am in when I recall it, grotesquely extravagant party I’ve attended was Louis Vuitton’s celebration to mark 20 years in China and open a new maison in Shanghai in 2012. The brand poured millions into this milestone, recreating its iconic train-themed show (complete with an $8m custom built steam train) and building a series of structures along The Bund for the event.
Guests entered via a room set up as a grand hall, before heading into a separate area to watch the show itself. Afterwards we moved back to the earlier room, which had been transformed into the inside of a glamorous train carriage and where a beret-clad Alexa Chung (!!) bounded up on stage to introduce a surprise guest performer: Lana del Rey (!!!), wearing a white dress and fresh off releasing Born to Die. Later DJs played what I remember to be really good, fun music, I got tipsy/drunk on expensive champagne and danced until the early hours (if there’s one thing I’ve learnt from being lucky enough to attend various luxury events over the years, it’s that the press and marketing teams know how to have a good time). I have no photos of myself at the event (just lots of blurry scene snaps), and can't remember what I wore...
This was obviously an outrageously expensive and meticulously produced event but despite its no expenses spared budget, it did embrace the important and basic elements of a fabulous party, big or small: the element of surprise, unpretentious music, and lots of dancing.
Other memorable party shout outs that were closer to home but just as, if not even more fun: Ensemble’s second birthday parties in Auckland and Wellington; a friend’s 30th birthday ‘yeehaw hoedown’ (you can see the photos of outfits here); Rebecca’s 90s dress up 40th; a 2015 work Christmas party where my team went as 'the Daily Mail sidebar of shame'; I was Kate Moss being kicked off an easyJet flight while drink (I love a costume party); my very fun wedding.
Rebecca Wadey, Ensemble co-founder
I don’t know if I could call this the most fun party I’ve ever been to, but it was certainly the most memorable. I was in LA over Oscars weekend in 2018; we have an extremely connected friend whose wife hates parties, and I was very happy to play the part of ‘+1’ for a couple of days. I accompanied him to the famed WME Oscars party held at the house of legendary talent agency Ari Emanuel (the inspiration for the character of Ari Gold in Entourage). I was extremely hungover from the night before (an intimate party at the Chateau Marmont with Brad Pitt, Margot Robbie, Elizabeth Olsen and Tiffany Haddish) and jetlagged, and had spent hours that day living my best LA life doing an IV drip in my hotel room where I was so dehydrated the nurse could barely find a vein.
The party was at his enormous Beverly Hills mansion and when you needed to pee you were escorted to the next available bathroom, which in my case was his child's en suite. I met director Edgar Wright in the indoor bowling alley, and Ari Aster (of Midsommar fame) and we gossiped and pointed out celebrities to each other as they cruised by. This included Jeff Bezos, David Spade, Keanu Reeves with his girlfriend Alexander Grant, and Tobey Maguire and Leo surrounded by Victoria’s Secrets models including Elsa Hosk.
I did sneakily pull out my phone a couple of times to sneak photos of Drake and the Weeknd but this photo is from the official photobooth from the evening. I’m wearing a Karen Walker dress I borrowed from my friend Shelly. I have it in the above the knee version and still wear it often; I can’t remember why I felt the need to borrow the longer one. It was a strange and fascinating evening, of being the least important person in the room and therefore with a front row seat to observing the networking, vulgar tastes and peacocking. The best part was a Jon & Vinny’s pizza pop-up. I sampled one of every flavour.
Oh and Zoe has just reminded me, my 90s themed 40th (combined with my husband's 50th, hence the theme) at our home in Pt Chev. Ingrid Starnes (who dressed as Fran Fine) made me an incredible Liz Hurley Versace dress, we had the best 90s tunes courtesy of Bianca Zander and Duncan Greive, and even a tequila slamming station. In more recent times I had a really great night on the dancefloor at The Spinoff 10th birthday.
Georgie Wright, Ensemble writer
Birthdays are weird. Ageing is a privilege yada yada ya, but it’s also so weighted with societally engrained baggage that it’s hard to ignore the constant tick tick tick, here’s all the things you haven’t done yet, tick tick tick, have you thought about babies, tick tick tick, death, etc. Also, you’re also meant to have fun on birthdays, even if you’re working or sick or all your colleagues are being made redundant, which is sort of like being told to smile for a photo with David Seymour. All that to say: birthdays can be weird and complicated, but sometimes it’s nice to say fuck it and throw a big party for yourself.
I’ve had two proper ones as a baby adult/adult in denial. The first, when I was 23 and living in London, was pink-themed. I plastered the walls with A4 printouts of pink things (Baby Spice, a Pinky bar, a raw steak) and wore pink fishnets, a fluffy pink jacket, and a T-shirt that had the mug shots of Nicole Richie, Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan on them.
The second was in Wellington for my 30th birthday. Technically I had two parties: a lunch at my mum’s house with close friends and family, where people said nice things about me and I cried. The following week I threw a Halloween x Birthday party, which was a great way to deflect the attention from being entirely about me while still being a little about me. I got overwhelmed in the costume shop and grabbed a big white dress as some sort of corpse bride, then cried doing my makeup because the paint I bought wouldn’t go on right.
Evidently: both times I freaked out about hosting, both times I had a truly incredible, silly time. But as time has passed (I mean I’m 31 so not *that* much time has passed since the 30th guys), I’ve realised that the best bit about birthday parties isn’t just the night itself, though that is generally (but not necessarily) great. It’s that they’re stakes in your memory bank. I’ve already forgotten most of my other birthdays, but these nights are a freeze frame of where I was and what I was doing and who I loved at that moment in time. And I think that’s quite beautiful. So if you haven’t thrown yourself a birthday party a while, do it, even if you cry (it’s your party and you’re allowed to).
