All Brittany Menjivar wants this holiday season is to be rockin' around the Christmas tree at IHEARTCOMIX's anniversary party.
IHEARTCOMIX HOLIDAY PARTY, Silverlake Lounge, Los Angeles, December 10, 2024.
Back on the East Coast, Christmastime was heralded by the first snow; here in Los Angeles, it's ushered in by the first holiday party. When I received an invite to IHEARTCOMIX's holiday soiree, I knew it was time to dig my Nightmare Before Christmas socks out of my drawer. I had been following IHC, a creative marketing agency known for their work with musicians, on Instagram ever since I saw the photos from their 20th-anniversary party -- a larger-than-life event whose guest list included both the Dare and Yo Gabba Gabba. I didn't meet any mascots on Tuesday night, but I sure had a jolly evening -- especially since Erin, my partner in Car Crash Collective, was along for the (sleigh) ride.
From the outside, the Silverlake Lounge was unassuming. Yet when I stepped through the doors, I found myself walking in a winter wonderland. Rows upon rows of snowflake lights twinkled across the ceiling. A Dolly Parton Christmas special from decades past played on a TV set. Stockings were hung by the counter with care. It's rare for industry parties to feel so cozy, but to paraphrase the great Paul McCartney, the mood was right.
Not only were the halls decked with boughs of holly, but the guests also had all made a point of donning their gay apparel. Reds and greens, festive plaids, Santa hats, and sequins abounded, but that was just the tip of the icicle (so to speak). Ornament earrings, ornate Mrs. Claus getups, suits with wintry patterns, and even elf shoes with curlicue tips were present. The most festive dresser, fittingly, was Santa Claus himself -- rather, the Death Metal Santa that was on hand for photos, his face adorned with black and blue corpse paint.
Making my customary lap around the premises, I encountered a welcome surprise in the bathroom area: a karaoke station. Erin and I lingered to watch the show, transfixed (even though we had to keep telling passersby that, no, we were not in line for the toilets). The variety in song choices was delightful; the silky sounds of "Santa Baby" were followed by a passionate rendition of the Prodigy's "Smack My Bitch Up." Of course, you can only observe karaoke for so long before getting pulled into the nexus yourself. And thus, Erin and I found ourselves harmonizing to MGMT's "Time to Pretend."
After our musical detour, we squeezed past the photo booth (decorated with a sprig of mistletoe) and checked out the back patio. Rather than the typical smell of smoke, I caught a whiff of tomato sauce and garlic. Stacked in the corner were more boxes of pizza than I had ever seen in my entire life. Pizza and I have a weird history; I infamously scrape the cheese off my slices, not because I'm lactose intolerant but because I'm an Aquarius. Luckily for me, a tasty marinara-only option was available.
I could've chowed down for hours, but I do go to parties to dance, so we eventually ended up on the floor. Olive Kimoto and Bianca Lexis spun tracks B2B; Franki Chan, IHC's founder, DJed next. Club classics (from Daft Punk to Fcukers) and Christmas classics (from Brenda Lee to Mariah Carey) got us all moving.
At the end of the night, my only wish was for a comfy pair of shoes to change into ... okay, that's not entirely true. I've officially added "more themed parties" and "more nights out at neighborhood bars" to my list. Santa, are you listening?