Wellington Sevens 2009

It was Waitangi Day on Friday so I had a long weekend, which was great because by the end of a mere three eight-hour days at the office I was a wreck. I did various things with my free time such as unpack some of my stuff, go to brunch, buy a new bed, attempt to go to One Love just down the road from my new house, look for secondhand furniture on TradeMe, sit around watching Home And Away and Lionel Ritchie’s “Hello” video with my awesome and hilarious new flatties, and get drunkenly, obviously checked out by someone whom I think was part of the Kenyan rugby team when I was out dancing on Saturday night.

The real deal, though, was that it was Wellington Sevens, this weekend, which is when the whole city decides to dress up in funny costumes, watch rugby, and drink, for like two straight days. I’m not much of one for either alcohol or contact sports, but I do like the costumes very much, and I had a fun time wandering around Friday afternoon taking pictures of very happy, very inebriated New Zealanders. Saturday night was fun too because Courtenay Place was closed off and there were bands in the street, but my camera didn’t fit into my going-out jeans pocket so all I have to show you this evening are from Friday, when the sun was shining and people weren’t looking quite as rough as they did the next day.

Let’s start off with something cute, like these nice girls we ran into on the way to the verrrrrrrrryyyyy loooooooooong Mt. Vic tunnel (seriously, that tunnel is like three times as long as it should be and when you’re walking through it it feels like it will NEVER END and my advice is just to listen to something really loud on your MP3-playing device to get you through it). It’s nice to see people who didn’t just default to “sort of randomly slutty” for their costume ideas.

I also liked these guys, who were hanging out on Cuba Street. People take dressing up for Sevens really seriously and I like to think of the planning meetings this group of friends had when they were deciding what to be this year.

“Stoplights? Could we somehow be stoplights?”

“Yeah, nah, too obvious. What about a crosswalk of some sort?”

“WAIT A MINUTE I KNOW WE’LL BE TRAFFIC CONES!”

“Aw, bro! That’s wicked! Now where do we get some hoopskirts and sparkly fabric?”

These guys are enjoying a quiet sombrero brunch over at JJs.

Here we see what I’m going to term a galaxy of Leias, crossing the street with their not-totally-true-to-the-story lightsabers, wearing some comfortable jandals because it was a hot day. Isn’t it interesting to see how much better a costume becomes if you have a whole bunch of people wearing it? I mean, one Leia: yeah, sure, cute, fine. But a whole bunch of Leias? BRILLIANT.

That said, I think this might—and I don’t mean to be critical—be a few too many guys in purple tights for me. Just my personal preference though, guys…you go ahead and wear those tights all you want.

What you can see: the immensely compelling handlebar mustaches on display. What you can’t see, but what is still haunting my dreams: the extraordinarily tight shorts these guys are wearing.

These guys were already pretty hammered when I ran into them outside the library so I didn’t get much out of them, regarding the concept behind their costumes, other than “WE’RE CHEESEHEADS!” I didn’t think it was a Wisconsin thing (because why?) but I didn’t really ask, so it remains a mystery.

The concept was a little easier to sort out with this lovely and enthusiastic basketball team.

And these are some lollipop-sucking, bouquet-toting, garter-displaying brides.

Uniforms are always popular—both the Rachels I live with went as prison guards, complete with rubber gloves, handcuffs, aviator sunglasses, and stripes-wearing prisoners, but sadly I didn’t take any pictures of them, so here are some airline pilots instead. I did discover though, Saturday night, that aviators are very great and that everyone looks good in them and I think I should get a pair of my own.

And of course there were many many many guys in sort of inexpert but enthusiastic drag, of which this lad is but one example of thousands. It is a fact of life that boys love to put on dresses and fake boobs. I like that this guy made sure to include nipples on his, which I think shows a pleasing attention to detail even though I admit I’ve seen better execution in my time, like Saturday night for instance, when I was walking down the street in my plain boring jeans and sparkly shirt, wishing I’d got it together to wear a costume, when a couple of guys in high drag walked by and gave me a big wink and a smile when I sighed audibly in admiration of anyone who can walk for any distance in four inch heels.

I always end these entries by saying I wish I’d taken more and better pictures, so let’s just pretend I’ve already said that part, and just skip on to what silly fun it is to walk down the street with your friends in the middle of the night or the middle of the day, smiling at everyone, getting smiled back at, complimenting the costumes of complete strangers, stealing peoples’ aviator sunglasses, dancing foolishly in a bar for which you are at least ten years too old, being out and about in the city it feels like you never left at all.