Friday, September 24, 2010


Ibiza, Spain

There are foam parties—and then there is Espuma.
The gogo dancers, scantily-clad in all-white, were so close we could feel a gust of wind when they whipped their hair to the music. I looked out at the sea of revelers on the dance floor and felt like pinching myself. I'm really here. I'm in Ibiza! And I'm about to dance my ass off in a lot of foam.

Our Ibiza crew came prepared. We were dressed in party clothes but in our cars we had bikinis, flipflops, towels, a change of clothes, and sweaters to ward off the post-Espuma chill.

"Think of it as being inside a washing machine," said Celine when we were getting ready at the villa. "Everything will get completely wet."

We danced our little hearts out as one set after another of go go dancers grinded and gyrated on the ledge in front of us. We watched a man who reminded us of Obi Won Kanobi play his violin with a neon-lit bow, a circle of revelers surrounding him and at his feet.
I danced, danced, danced ... a little buzzed from a Buffalo call on a full glass of OJ and vodka, but mostly just high on life ...
I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Cel telling me it was time to get changed. The espuma was coming. We ran to the parking lot and traded our stilettos for flip flops, and slipped our bikinis on under our party clothes. We made it back just in time. "Kiss" came on and a long line of go go dancers in white bikinis filed out on to the ledge and did a little dance.
The foam cannons were in their positions, and aimed at the dance floor. A bronzed muscular man with long flowing tresses starts riling up the crowd, popping champagne bottles and shooting bubbly into the dance floor. 
Finally, the moment we've been waiting for comes.


Foam shoots out of the canons and down below. A serious amount of foam. We watch as the heads in the dance floor turn into bobbing fluffy white clouds within seconds.
"Let's go!"

We run down to the dancefloor and get into the thick of it. The white bubbles are up to my thighs along the edges of the dance floor and swiftly rising. Quicker than I can yell "Espuma", I am pummeled with foam from above. My eyes are open but all I can see is white. I feel myself getting lifted out of the foam. It's JF coming to the rescue after spotting me getting swallowed up in the espuma. Everyone is cracking up. I want to laugh too but in mid-scream some espuma has gotten into my mouth and I am sputtering bubbles instead. With the rest of the group in sight, I jump up and down to the music for about ten seconds and then ... WTF?! Everything's gone all white again! Again, JF carries me out of the foam. More laughter and dancing. My emotions fly back and forth from sheer terror to giddy happiness. I am a giggling, foamy mess.
I love it. I abso-effin-lutely love it.

Images by N. DeClercq, Kevin W. and Alain K.


  1. I once had a Spanish lover {oh god, did I just admit that in public?} and he told me of the foam parties and Espuma in Ibiza. Now you supplied the photos. Makes me want to go there sooner than planned.

    Congrats, Celine! You really are living it and your way to your 30th is a big bang!

  2. Hahahaha you are so funny Tara! I would totally admit to having a Spanish lover in public too, it sounds so sexy ;-) You really HAVE to go!! It is such a fun/crazy/brilliant experience. Thanks for following, it's been an incredible ride so far!


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