Wise old people are prone to saying that life is about experiences.
We're inclined to believe them.
I'd like to think almost all of you have indulged in a concert ticket with the full knowledge that, to afford it, you'd be eating baked beans for the next few weeks; most of you will have tried some sketchy C-grade Dominion Road dumplings, kidding yourself you didn't see the certificate plastered with peeling tape to the glass facade; heck, some of you have likely camped out in the freezing cold, overnight, for limited edition sneakers.
Some will have come to spiritual revelation in the midst of throngs of folk tripping, jumping, and humping in the doof-doof of darkly-lit, dank-smelling teen spirit mosh pits; some will have found a new favourite cuisine in a hungover (or still drunk - we won't judge) venture into a sticky-floored, flurosecent-illuminated cheap "restaurant" common sense and middle-class parents warn against; others again place more value in their fashun sense than the risk of losing their toes to some pesky frostbite.
This is the world we live in. Elders lecture that we live our lives through iPhone screens, but none of that detracts from the irl reality that we're all looking for something that means something.
Often, that comes with an opportunity cost; something you're only just willing to trade in return for something you hope will be slightly better. FOMO and other new-age marketing ploys aside, I'll invite you to think of life like a mass-scale Big Day Out (maybe that year Kanye was supposed to turn up and we realised NZ really is the bottom of the world) - we're all choosing to be at one stage over another (others, port-a-loos and suspicious lines, but that's a discussion for another time, kids).
Enter stage right, The Goods. A few months ago, we were lamenting the fact that there really was piss-all to do in Auckland if you were keen on chilling in an atmosphere that catered to slightly more than getting drunk, with a weekly discretionary budget extending to a few packs of Mi Goreng and an art print by your friend's friend's friend.
We set out to remedy that, bringing together the three prongs of a sick ez lifestyle: music, fashion, and art. The way we saw it, there was no point in the FOMO. Put everything in one place, we thought. Build it and they will come, the adage goes.
We took over K Rd's Neck of the Woods one day a month, three months in a row. People turned up. People had a more than good time. We expanded into coffee, and sneakers, and even homewares.
It was all going swimmingly, and then we looked at the calendar and realised that time was getting on. It was nearly Christmas, and New Year's Eve, and then a whole 'nother year. So, we thought, why the hell not do something bigger, and better, and all the greater for creating irl memories/experiences/generally good times?
We talked to our mates at Monster Valley. We got carried away. We talked about putting together an entire week of cool shit. We talked for so long, and talked to so many people, that we ended up somehow signing a temporary week-long lease in St Kevin's Arcade. Somehow, we're now actually responsible for making our dreams, and those of our friends, come true.
We're now in the process of booking bands, artists, streetwear labels, comedians, pop-up cinemas, stick-and-poke tattoo artists, food trucks, beer orders, deadstock vintage clothing and sneakers, zines, and legitimately almost a million other things (not really, but that's the power of hyperbole - and if you didn't read the actual list and appreciate the immensity and quantity of rad, I really don't know how you got this far into the article).
It's all happening 14th - 20th December at St Kevin's Arcade. This is kind of one of those things you will very possibly tell your grandkids about, or at least end up with some sick #humblebrag 'grams.