New Year's Eve is always a huge disappointment.
You don’t even have to have a bad night for it to be a let down — the pressure of all the things that will magically change once the clock ticks over to midnight.
If you don’t like your thighs or your partner or any other number of things at 11.59pm, those things will still be exactly as they were when the clock says 12.01am. Granted you’ll be slightly more inebriated, but the thighs you hate and the partner whose every word annoys you will still be there.
Even before the night gets here, it’s the pressure to make plans. First, you have to get through Christmas, which let’s face it is less like a Myer catalogue and more like a Jerry Springer episode interrupted by a baked dinner. You finally get all the crazy relatives out of the house and are just beginning to unwind, and everyone you run into wants to know what you are doing for New Year's Eve.
I have learned after years of trial and error that telling people you are staying home, wearing yoga pants (so I can eat anything I like and not have to undo your jeans), watching the fireworks from the comfort of my front step and going to bed to watch an old Michael J Fox movie, is not an acceptable answer. I say it’s unacceptable because as soon as I reveal said plans, I get lots of sad eyes followed by invitations. It’s hard to explain to anyone that my yoga pants are a much more attractive option than going out.
For years now I have decided that I will start the year exactly how I plan to finish it. For me, that means with the kid, and only the options that mean being able to be with her are on the table. They have been the best NYE’s ever. We have welcomed the coming year at backyard BBQs, at Lizotte’s listening to Beatles classics and sitting by the water, thankful for where we live and that she is by my side.
This year we are heading to my favourite holiday spot, The Boogie Woogie Beach House in Old Bar. My best friend and her son are joining us. We are taking over the Blondie suite and plan on sitting on the gorgeous balcony over-looking their venue, the Flow Bar. That night the intimate venue will be hosting a party dedicated to 1988. I’m picturing great food on the beach houses outdoor lounges, some seriously loud singing to the soundtrack of Dirty Dancing (much to the embarrassment of the kids) and some serious reminiscing. At the end of the night, we are then ten steps back to our suite.
The place was a back-packers, but music-loving owner Steve has transformed the space into something so stunning it really needs to be seen in person. Each room is themed, and the bathrooms are transformed by huge mosaics made in Italian tile of all the greats... Bowie, Blondie, Dave Grohl, Louis Armstrong and Nick Cave. The extensive record library lines the walls and can be borrowed and played in the record players provided in each room. The service is exceptional.
It’s these kinds of things that keep you coming back. Given my ideal NYE would be the comfort of my own home, The Boogie Woogie Beach house is the ideal alternative. And with Old Bar beach only a few steps from the front door, my first day of 2019 will be filled with sun, sand and 3 of my favourite people on earth.