Harper-Thames investigates the genuinely baffling logistics of finding an underground night out
The instructions read simply: “look for the blue door, text on arrival.” I found four blue doors within a three-hundred-metre radius, none of which produced any response whatsoever, and spent a genuinely humbling forty minutes standing behind a kebab shop questioning several life choices.
The Search
Eventually a stranger, clearly also lost, clocked my confusion and simply said, “you’re looking for the party too, aren’t you,” which felt less like a question and more like a diagnosis. We found it together, down an unmarked side alley, behind what appeared to be a disused printing works.
Once inside, the actual event was excellent, properly loud, properly warm, properly the sort of night that makes the whole ordeal worthwhile in retrospect. Getting there, though, remains its own separate and considerably less enjoyable event.
A Note for Future Organisers
I understand the appeal of secrecy. I understand the whole point is that it should feel like you’ve found something. I would simply, gently, suggest that one accurate landmark would not entirely ruin the mystique.
The London Prat has covered the East London warehouse party scene’s enduring, occasionally maddening commitment to vague directions.
The Inertia, admittedly better known for surf coverage, nonetheless captured a similarly chaotic hunt-for-the-venue energy in a piece I found strangely comforting.
Next time, I am bringing a compass. Possibly a flare.
More from me: Harper-Thames, prat.uk. Further reading: London the Inside.
SOURCE: https://bohiney.com
