Masquerade Ball Review

As the sun set over St Mary’s quad on Saturday night, the fairy lights were lit and the scene set for the third instalment of what is fast becoming a St Andrews institution, the Masquerade Ball.

Having endured an embarrassing cross-town sprint in my 20s inspired killer heels, I grabbed my press pass and, now feeling highly superior, slumped into one of the creatively placed sofas. From this comfy vantage point I watched as the masked revellers filtered in. Coloured, glittered and feathered faces happily munched on free popcorn (a truly genius idea) and admired the surroundings. Front of house had done a good job. The sofas (already high in my estimation) were praised by all, the light-covered-tree gave an arty edge.  As those glittering masks began to swing the picture was oh-so pretty.

Outside, shisha, a photo booth (check out Owl Eyes for full photo coverage) and a wood fired pizza van transformed St Mary’s quad. Luckily the rain wasn’t aggressive enough to truly smudge the photos, soggify the pizzas, and, well, who wants to sit in the rain smoking shisha? Had the weather done more than incessantly drizzle we would have had problems. Thankfully the weather meant that we were able to queue (for far too long) for the porter loos and run coatless from cloakroom to marquee without getting too wet.

Having sold out all tickets in under an hour the Masquerade team were ready for a big night; DJs, drinks and dancing commenced. With sponsors like Chase Vodka, Kopparberg Beer and Greenhall’s Gin, expectations for the bar were running high and didn’t disappoint. Exclusively designed cocktails galvanised the crowd who after 3 free drinks began to look expectantly towards the stage. St Andrews’ own Blueswater Collective successfully limbered-up the crowd with a little bit of everything from Elvis to Rage and the Machine. And so for the big event, the moment we had all been waiting for, the Correspondents took to the stage. Despite the crush of the crowd leaving a severe lack of dancing room, I truly couldn’t get enough of Mr Bruce and Chucks’ tunes, new and old. Jazz or Dubstep, Electro or Drum n Bass, the duo’s music is wonderfully indefinable. With a tummy full of gin and my flapper dress swinging, I was in that rarely reachable state of true happiness. My mask discarded so as to allow for an unimpinged analysis of Mr Bruce’s extraordinary dance moves, I swung the night away.

To round off the night in style, Theo Borgvin Weiss teased out the last of our dance moves with a brilliant DJ set. Happily exhausted we tottered off in the cheery knowledge that our masked revelry had helped to raise not only weekend spirits but also stacks of money for the Cystic Fibrosis Trust. Having made a brilliant £8000 for this worthy cause across the last 2 events, I can only hope that this weekend’s ball was as successful on the charitable front as all others. 

Photos © Jessica Biggs of Lightbox St Andrews