M O D E R N L O V E wants you.
If you are a freshman, that sentence probably only partially makes sense.
“Well, yes. Everyone wants me,” you think. “I’m young, new and exciting. But what is this ‘Modern Love’? How can it buy me drinks and take me back to its off-campus house?”
As any upperclassman could tell you, fresh-faced youth, Modern Love is a floating party, created by David Rudnick ’09 and carried on by what is now three generations of students. The concept: good music and uninhibited dancing, Friday nights from midnight to 4:00 a.m. or until the cops show. Everyone is welcome — regardless of year or what ‘scene’ they belong to — and it’s free. In past years, posters plastered around campus advertised the location each week, and panlist emails had their own aesthetic:
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But this year, Modern Love has run into “logistical troubles,” organizers say. Namely, finding a suitable venue and willing host. And that is why you younglings haven’t experienced it yet.
A group of upperclassmen, communicating via firstname.lastname@example.org, has been tirelessly working to make the event happen soon, and they’re optimistic, said Susanna Koetter ’13, one of the organizers. She estimates that Modern Love could be held as early as next Friday, and definitely by the end of November.
“It’s not really dependent on us,” said Koetter. “It’s dependent on the community.”
Each of the venues that hosted in past years has been unwilling or unable to this year, said Gregory Rubin ’11, another of the event’s organizers.
The club Partners started carding, 28 Lynwood put up a wall dividing its best dancing space, and the new residents of 378 Crown aren’t interested in having the party take over their basement, he said.
For the past two months, organizers have been scouting locations and reaching out to frats, such as SigEp, said Koetter. One prospective host has offered a promising space, she added, but didn’t elaborate further.
“It’s still tentative,” Rubin said.
When Modern Love was born, there was no question about where it would be held — Rudnick simply cleared out his basement at 73 Edgewood.
The party was his answer to a campus where students ”push themselves intellectually and creatively, with sincerity and enthusiasm, 18 hours a day and go to Toad’s for the other 6,” he said over Skype from the UK, Thursday.
But even within the first year, Rudnick dealt with cops, as the crowds grew larger and people spilled onto the sidewalks. So Rudnick said he’s sympathetic to the current situation.
“Don’t be too hard on the organizers,” he said. “It’s not their fault that people immediately call the cops when 500 people show up. In many ways, Modern Love may have outgrown off-campus basements.”
Despite the obstacles they face, the organizers aren’t ready to give up. Rubin said they’re working on new strategies to keep the party open to everyone without drawing such an enormous crowd that the New Haven Police shut them down every time. Inclusivity was a key part of Rudnick’s founding philosophy.
“You didn’t go to Modern Love because you were in a frat, on a sports team, or were in a society or liked a certain type of music,” he said. “I wanted a place where the boundaries could be quite fluid — not just a hipster or indie dance party space.”
Koetter said she hopes that this year’s Modern Love will maintain the spirit it was conceived in.
“No one should feel excluded from Modern Love. No one should go there and feel scared. The people who go there define the party,” she said.
That is, as soon as there is a party to define in the first place. As of now, we’ve been assured: within the month, there will be a place to go.