As you might gather from this first photo, there were some badass betches who did hit the town quite recently . . . There was fluoro involved, there was bling, there were caps, feather fake lashes & netted tops.
And let's not forget an array of colours & fabric in the leggings department.
I had never been to a Dance Hall competition before, so when I got to L's house, the girls had sparkly attire ready to throw on me. We popped some bottles in preparation for the night ahead.
But first, some home warm up twerking was in order. And of course, pre-party girly photographs are a rite of passage for any night out.
If it weren't for the fellas on their way to "a hat convention" we may or may not have been the most obnoxious passengers on the tram that evening.
But on the street, we were simply colourful characters with a bottle o' bubs.
And inside the club, we got amongst it and twerked it out with the best of them.
The ladies battle it out for the title of Dance Hall Queen.
As do the fellas . . .
. . . for Dance Hall King.
In between rounds, we reconvened on the dance floor, newly inspired by the pros on stage.
Think I need to enrol in some classes before I have a slither of hope to be a contender in the twerking stakes. Although, for the moment, I'm quite happy throwing elbows on the dance floor in my golden get up with my fluoro-clad, feather lash sporting girlfrieeeeends.