FRINGE PHOTOSHOOT

WSN staff Halloween party, 2021. A few of us were on the roof — chatting, taking in the skyline, generally having a good time — when we realized that the two people in the window across the street were about to have sex. The visibility of this act was very much aided by the fact that all the lights in their room were on and glaringly so. Have you heard of morbid curiosity? I swear I didn’t want to watch, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away. Thankfully, it was far away enough that we couldn’t see any details beyond silhouettes. The man kept his shirt on the whole time. It lasted less than five minutes

During my semester of acting out, I somehow managed to befriend my now ex-Tinder boy’s roommate’s finance bro best friend. We bonded over our mental instability and love for the same drugs, so I started getting invited to his and his other finance friends’ parties. The highlight of that semester was standing on top of a table in a TriBeCa penthouse screaming the lyrics to Taylor Swift’s “Enchanted” with two ex-frat boy investment bankers from J.P. Morgan. Later that night, we took some pills (I have no fucking clue what they were) and proceeded to have a long discourse on stock markets and quant trading, which somehow ended up with me doing calculus on a whiteboard in the middle of the room. I have now forever been labeled as Trevor’s (now ex-Tinder boy’s roommate’s finance bro best friend) art-hoe side piece that’s good with numbers.

Freshman year, my roommate and her boyfriend invited me to a party. I agreed, because why not, and we got on the train, though I didn’t know exactly where we were going. Anyway, we end up on the Upper East Side at some random person’s rooftop. There’s live classical jazz playing, panoramic city views and everyone is stoned out of their minds — except me, I’m a child of God. It was pretty fun though, and I met a cute boy, so it wasn’t a total loss.

It was one of those smarmy summer nights in Georgia. It was midnight, and there was a line of more than 500 people in front of a local church. My friends and I were social media friends with the bouncer, an up-and-coming fashion designer creating high-end tie-dye pants. We skipped the line and walked inside the church, where Lil Yachty was sitting on a throne underneath the cross. Someone had attached a swing wrapped in vines to the rafters, and a woman in a flowy white dress was swinging back and forth into the crowd. In front of the throne, Lil Yachty was pouring champagne over the revelers. I’m pretty sure Trippie Redd was there too. A man approached us wearing cargo pants with a million different pockets embellished with studs. In each pocket, he had lollipops that he was handing out. It was a surreal Atlanta night, but the champagne was a bitch to get out of my clothes.

When I was a freshman, the Latin dance club I’d barely participated in threw a fight club-themed birthday party for two of the e-board members. They rented out a boxing gym, and the email invitation promised that the birthday boys would fight at midnight. I had to see it, so I dragged two of my friends with me to check it out, and boy, it delivered.

Also, my sophomore year roommates and I threw a KFC-themed party for the release of the Colonel Sanders dating sim, so that was pretty iconic.