Review: King’s Mingle
PATRICK BROOKS finds little fault with this predictably wavey wonder of a night.
King’s Mingle delivered exactly what it was supposed to.
There isn’t particularly much to say about this hotly anticipated, sold-out end of term indie/artsy bash-up.
It was exactly what you’d expect a hotly anticipated, sold-out end of term indie/artsy bash-up to be, which is of course no bad thing.
I mean, there’s a quiet irony in the safe and entirely unsurprising success of an event which probably kinda aspires to be more exciting and ‘edgy’ than the usual Cambridge fare, but when everyone’s running around wearing horns and bouncing off mattresses in a spray of glitter and Week 8 euphoria, who really cares?
It was all just really fun. Probably one of the best things was the sheer glory of the space – spread across many rooms and a courtyard, the event made Fez feel like the cramped heaving womb it is – and the freedom to sprawl and relax and breath almost made the night feel like a teeny tiny baby May Ball.
We should probably tackle the theme, the laughableness of which surely descends into Kingsian self-parody – at least half of revellers clearly had no idea what a ‘Chimera’ was, and the rest just ignored it in favour of the usual wacky sequins and drapey fabrics and general waveyness, etc. But this was kinda cosy and cohesively pleasing in its randomness and flailing splendour.
The music was more than satisfactory, especially the live student bands, and the drinks flow kept everyone adequately lubricated.
The ‘chill out room’, complete with strewn mattresses and what looked like hand-painted pictures on the walls did feel a bit like a glorified crèche, but again, the lameness was kinda endearing.
Well-organised, perfectly pitched and a touchingly vibesy way to round off the term, King’s Mingle deserves to become a staple of the Cambridge calendar.