Send in the Animals

John Belushi didn't show up, but the loga Party held by seven Leverett House seniors last Saturday night was a success nonetheless. The party was not as wild as some may have dreamed, however. For example, the Bacchanalia did not last until 5 a.m. as the invitations warned--not that several dedicated students did not try to prolong the ecstasy. Despite early rumors that the gathering would degenerate into an unmitigated orgy, most participants came with their garb securely fastened to their bodies by a unique assortment of pins, loops, staples and other flesh-concealing paraphernalia. Not a single toga was thrown by the wayside in the revelry, although this clearly violates the ancient Toga custom.

Perhaps the relative tameness of the goings-on is explained by the fact that most people at the event had never before been to a bona-fide Toga Party, or so they claimed. Since no one was sufficiently familiar with the rites of Toga, participants behaved according to American '70s' custom. Beer and vodka flowed, the usual dislocated mutterings that pass for conversation at such gatherings coalesced into a dull roar, and the megaton stereo boomed out a never-ending series of syncopated disco thuds. Occasionally someone would chase a friend through the crowd threatening affectionately to straighten her (his?) toga or die trying, but onlookers just smiled timidly and continued to sip their punch.

The dancing posed a few problems. More than a few sheets were torn during some intense Rock N' Roll. One Leverett resident became frustrated with the constraints of the toga, and asked one of the hosts if she could remain wearing merely her bathing suit. (The invitations had proclaimed togas were strictly required). Permission was granted.

According to many of the hedonists present at the Saturnalia, few opportunities remain for Harvard students to experience the joys of Toga. "This is going to be the fastest-dying trend in the history of Harvard," one soothsayer predicted. "The logistics are all wrong. Toga fans are epicureans and walking six blocks in nothing but a sheet just doesn't cut much mustard in those circles."

A few hard-core satyrs, however, set out to make this their best, if indeed last, Toga Party. Faces became redder, speech more garbled, conversation more fatuous, and propositions more direct. But many secret Toga hopes harbored by those venturing to Leverett Saturday night were shattered by the mundane contemporary world.