On a Tuesday night in downtown Auckland, over 200 people gather to indulge in their guilty pleasure: Love Island UK.
English-style pub The Brit, hosted a free viewing party for the penultimate episode of Love Island. (A different venue signed the deal with streaming service Neon to get the finale in house).
The ‘Islanders’ – a group of young, fit men and women in swimwear with apparently 24/7 access to waxing services – were (at the time) one day away from finding out who would be crowned winners.
For now, after 56 episodes, they’re being reunited with their families.
An hour before viewing is set to start at 7pm, fans (predominantly young women) slowly start to fill the pub – white wines and colourful cocktails in hand.
The Suits and Ties who have realised their after-work watering hole will soon be overrun, make their way to the door. Others sheepishly cradle their beers on the outdoor tables, hoping to avoid any association with the event.
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Despite (mostly) everyone being here for the same reason, almost all the people I spoke to seemed too ashamed to admit to being fans of the British reality show.
Huddled together in a pub on a weeknight to indulge in their guilty pleasure, safe with the knowledge they won’t expose each other’s secret shame, seems to be tonight’s vibe.
Maybe they were saving their energy for tonight’s finale, but all the loud drunken behaviour I was expecting to see was nowhere to be found, replaced instead by politely enthusiastic girls excited to have fun with their friends.
Being a fan or even just a casual viewer of a reality show like Love Island, which faces valid criticisms for it’s treatment of contestants and role in pushing harmful beauty standards, is an easy target for teasing and furthering of the stigma that women’s interests are vapid.
Most women I chatted with seemed hyper aware of the possibility the world outside The Brit would deem them shallow for attending a Love Island viewing party.
Their boyfriends seemed even more embarrassed.
Instead, the crowd I spoke with were incredibly intelligent and thoughtful.
Maddie and Marin, who work in sales and for the NZ Blood Service respectively, both said they enjoy the show as a means of mindless entertainment after a long day.
Shaun, who was dragged to the event by flatmates Sophie and Taylor, finds fun in the show.
“It’s so different to what I usually watch, it’s just a really different experience. I’ve talked a lot of shit about it in the past… it’s a big turnaround.”
Nicole, a lawyer, says she watches the show because it’s “f…ing funny.”
Another attendee, Tayla, is a business student (“so nothing to do with Love Island”), says the show is a nice way to fill in the time.
“It’s a lot more fun [to watch] when you’re with a group of people.”
Once the show began, the energy in the room that seemed to be politely held back bubbled over.
There were gasps when Paige’s mum told her daughter she isn’t “buying” her relationship with Adam, laughter as Indiyah’s mother called her boyfriend Deji instead of Dami, and fawning over Davide’s sweet relationship with his mother.
As Gemma walks her parents to meet partner Luca, the girl sitting next to me lets out an adoring sigh.
“Gemma’s arse is like a castle!”
“I wonder how they manage to stay so fit,” said another attendee.
After watching this show every day for almost two months, fans have developed something of a parasocial relationship with the contestants.
Every teeny pout of Gemma’s lips was noted as were the devastated look in each couple’s eyes as it turned out (spoiler) four of them were at risk of leaving the show.
A few sympathetic “aww”s could be heard as (spoiler again) Paige and Adam were forced to leave the Love Island villa in Mallorca, Spain.
After a teary goodbye the remaining contestants picked up champagne flutes and quickly partied away the sadness, the thought they could soon take home the £50,000 prize money helped ease the pain.
This buzz spilled out onto Gore St as the show ended. People hugging each other, excitement burning in their eyes, happy to share a moment of guilty thrill with 200-odd strangers who were just as secretly invested in this show as they are.