Saturday, December 11, 2004

evite...

It's the holidays. Which means there are loads of parties and thus, loads of Evites, the brilliant e-mailed invitation in which you can view all the other invitees, check out who'll be attending the event, and see what they have to say for themselves.
When I respond to an Evite, I feel intense pressure to be simultaneously charming, clever, and brief. Because, really, your response says so much about you. It's as if the other guests will somehow read the response, laugh out loud, and make a mental note to introduce themselves to you. In fact, I won't respond to an invitation until I've figured out the perfect little remark. I knew I'd probably go to Collin's Halloween party, but didn't respond till I came up with, "Trick or treat, smell my feet. I hope there are cute boys to meet." That's what's called mastering an Evite, people. And that's what I expect when I send out Evites.
Whenever I send out an Evite, I become obsessed with updating it, seeing who's viewed the invitation, who's coming, who's not, and what witty remark they've represented themselves with. The only thing worse than viewing and not responding are those that just respond with their name and no little blurb. Ugh, how uninteresting. I make a mental note to stay away from those that can't muster one single, solitary, sentence of charm. If someone took the effort to type your shitty little e-mail address into this thing, you could at least respond with a, "Lookin' forward to it..."
Many wait to respond to see who else plans to show. That's great if you're a guest, but sucks if you're a host. When you invite 150 people and 14 RSVP, it looks lame. And it's beyond frustrating. One must rely on their good friends to respond early on, make the event look like it'll be packed with clever, witty hipsters.
Sometimes, I'll respond with an inside joke, which is fine when you don't really care who's reading. For Hannah's upcoming 30th bash, held a mere block and half away from my house at The Monkey Club, I brilliantly responded, "How do I get there?" But that was just to crack Hannah up.
Alex refuses to respond to an Evite because he feels that the pressure to perform in one's remarks is too great. I can understand that, particularly if you don't know many of the other guests. But, if you're brave enough to walk into a party full of strangers, you should be brave enough to post a friggin' response, no?
The folks at Evite have upped the ante on throwing a party, really because you can get a sense of what's in store, well before ever showing up with your tray of phyllo triangles or the wine that you bought on the way over. It's genius, really. It's also terribly addictive.
You know, there's something to be said for an old school, engraved, and mailed paper invitation. Next time I throw a party, check your mailbox, not your e-mail.