I think everyone can agree that white is sexier when it’s wet...It’s also a helluva lot colder. As you can probably guess I am talking about the much anticipated Annual White Fete that happened this past 4th of July. For those of you who did not go, I’ll start at the beginning.

I haven’t been out in a while and had been looking forward to the white party for weeks (okay months). I had my outfit all together and my hair was looking fierce. I even took the time to make my own fingerless, white, glittery glove to pay homage to the late, legendary Michael Jackson. When I left my house, I dare say I looked like the chocolate version of Brigitte Bardot (just go along with it).

When I arrived, there was a long line full of some of the most fashion-forward people on the island; men with fedoras and the women with everything else, which, as anyone familiar with the venue knows, is in true white fête fashion. I slipped quietly through a side gate courtesy of one of the organisers and began to roam the area. It was only 11:00 p.m. but things were already buzzing. The sexily clad white bunnies were busy walking up and down, carrying trays of specially made drinks and killer smiles. The music was not overbearingly loud or irritatingly soft, it was just right. After my preliminary walk around, I decided it was time to burn some calories. Just when my foot touched the dance floor, I felt it. A single, solitary drop right there on my cheek.

No! I thought, I haven’t been here for even half an hour; this is NOT what I think it is. My efforts to ignore the signs were futile as I witnessed the slow procession of white-clad partiers heading into the tents. If you don’t know by now, I am talking about rain. Not the drizzling, I can grin and bear it rain, but the torrential - is there a tropical depression lurking nearby - kind of rain. And then there was the wind. Despite my efforts to fend off the offending drops of H²O, the wind ensured that no part of my body would be left untouched.

It was weather straight out of a Vincent Price film complete with forked lightning so unnerving that the metal studs on my shoes were beginning to make me nervous. When it was made clear that there was no end in sight a strange thing happened. All at once, people decided that they were going to get their money’s worth come hell or (quite literally) high water. Men and women ventured out onto the uncovered dance floor, despite their expensive get-ups, pretty make-up and newly coiffed weave and did what Antiguans do best…Make the best of it. By this time I had gone from Bardot to Bullwinkle and decided to join my party comrades in the festivities.

My only complaint for the night is that I couldn’t stay as long as I wanted because after a while the mud, damp clothing and wet hair got me seriously worried about catching a case of bronchitis or worse, swine flu. However, even as I sit here, days after, with an ominous tingling in my throat, I have to say that I enjoyed my night and for better or worse this was a white fête I’ll never forget.

Aarati is a featured guest writer for 365antigua.com and be contacted at: writer@365antigua.com