Review: Blackout 2012

Sure to say, the trademark ‘Blackout’ did not fail to do what it says on label; guest satisfaction clearly top of the GIG’s priority list. And oh, how satisfied everyone was – though of course I myself maintained a vaguely functional mental state for the purposes of writing my memories down the next day, albeit slightly fuzzy around the edges.

The Global Investment Group kicked off the evening at the Scores Hotel, rows of champagne flutes in position and bottles of bubbly exceptionally chilled. Soon there were oodles of black heels, sparkly dresses and a dash of velvet blazers, giving the evening an urban-chic look. The upstanding champagne sipping and chair perching, however, was sure not to last, and with one or two cheeky raspberry sourz, the GIG shipped us off to Dundee – either in a glossy limo or a not so stylish old school bus.

For many, this was probably their first voyage out of St Andrews at night, let alone to the somewhat suspect city on the horizon which has been known as a place of ‘jute, jam and journalism’. Nonetheless it was straight off the bus and into Fat Sams, a smoky maroon staircase leading us into the club. The Karma Lounge made for an unusual setting, with chilled red lighting, Buddhist sculptures and oriental symbols on the walls. One thing was indisputable: we definitely were not in St Andrews anymore.

The VIP section was most certainly VIP, generously fixed up with excessive bottles of Moët et Chandon. Add to this some sparklers and a couple of models to pour, and you’ve got a recipe for success. The GIG knows how to effectively use funds, the not-so-pricey-ticket (well, for St Andrews) actually seemed like good value for money. Everyone mingled on the dance floor, ensuring a full house and lots of bouncing around to fresh beats. Fire twirlers, dancers and a woman on stilts mixed things up a bit as well, embellishing Blackout’s vibe: ‘enter at your own risk’.

All in all, the evening was one of extremes, with the place still buzzing at 2.30am and many a guest well… blacking out. As an anonymous Blackout goer proclaimed: “when you get out of that limo you want to be in your prime… i.e. you won’t fucking remember getting out of that limo.” Go along next year if you dare.

Image ©Amy Thompson