When the Party’s Over: Reimagining Durham’s Ball Culture
By BEA PESCOTT-KHAN
BEA PESCOTT-KHAN speaks to NATHANIA ANU, ROSIE DAVIS, BEA SMITH, and GRACE LEE to examine how Durham’s balls are becoming more inclusive, and how societies are keeping the university’s ball culture alive.
Towards the end of last year, I asked my friends if they were planning on going to any summer balls. Almost all of them said no, or if they were, it was just their college ball. And honestly, I wasn’t surprised. With ticket prices climbing and the cost of living being what it is, the idea of going to multiple society balls just isn’t realistic for a lot of people. College balls, tied to communities students already spend so much time in, can often feel like the safer bet when only one ball is an option.
But that doesn’t mean society balls don’t matter. They remain one of the most unique features of Durham’s student life, offering opportunities to celebrate, to connect, and to create traditions of their own. So what can societies do to keep that spirit alive, and what initiatives are already being put in place to make balls a genuinely accessible occasion? I spoke to ball committees and students across the university to find out.
For many students, cost is the biggest barrier to attending Durham’s society balls. With living expenses rising, many students find it hard to justify going to multiple balls. But societies are experimenting with different ways to make their events more affordable. Nathania Anu, co-chair of last year’s Durham People of Colour Association (DPOCA) Ball, explained how important affordability was in their planning. Tickets were £46 for members and £55 for non-members, just a pound more than the previous year. “We just really didn’t want to increase it [the price] if we didn’t have to,” she told me. “So we went through every [means] possible to keep costs to a minimum.”
DPOCA kept costs down by running the event as a charity ball, avoiding the 20% VAT that typically drives up ticket prices, and deliberately partnering with local charities and suppliers to keep things affordable. The charity model isn’t unique to them; both Tweed and Polo Ball also run as charity events, but their ticket prices - often £70–90 - reflect their choice of venues, both favouring large-scale, formal settings.
Yet both Tweed and Polo committees have started taking steps to make their events feel more accessible. Bea Smith, current chair of Polo ball, is keen to “make sure no one is left out.” She explained that their committee is looking into discounted tickets for students receiving the Durham Grant, with the hopes of implementing this subsidy in the upcoming year. Meanwhile Grace Lee, last year’s chair for Tweed Ball, highlighted the recently introduced cheaper “ents-only” tickets, designed to open the event to more students. These are promising initiatives, that, with the right promotion, could be a great help in making balls more accessible. Promotion, however, is key here: if you don’t know that a grant exists, it may as well not.
Other societies have explored similar options. The D’Oscars, Durham’s student theatre awards, priced tickets at £60 this year but offered grants to anyone who felt cost was a barrier, and made sure this support was clearly advertised. Likewise, DPOCA also reached out to every college to ask about funding. The results were impressive; some colleges, like St Aidan’s, covered the cost of every student who wanted to attend. Others offered subsidies through the Student Enrichment Fund, or their college equivalent, which usually isn’t means-tested. “For the most part, a lot of people were able to get their tickets either subsidised, or fully covered,” Nathania explained. This active exploration of financial aid across societies shows just how seriously accessibility is being considered.
Even when ticket prices are manageable, the hidden costs of attending can pile up. Dress codes are a big part of the issue. Redress, a student-run initiative renting out ball gowns for under £15, was a lifeline for students on a budget, but its closure has made formalwear harder to source. Men’s formalwear is even trickier; suits are rarely available second-hand, and hiring is expensive.
Societies are combatting this barrier in different ways. While Rosie Davis, this year’s chair of Tweed Ball, emphasised that everyone was welcome to attend, she defended their choice of a black-tie dress code when I asked about more inclusive dress codes, and suggested that it shouldn’t be an extra burden on students. “Because it’s black tie, people won’t have to buy anything,” she told me. She did, however, make the point that students can wear the same thing year after year. Tweed Ball also provided a guide with outfit inspiration to make the tweed element of the dress code less daunting to students.
While Polo ball is even more formal, measures are being introduced to make it a little more flexible with dress code. Bea Smith explained that while their upcoming event has a white-tie dress code, they’ve deliberately made black tie acceptable too. “We want people to feel part of the tradition if they want to, but we also recognise that not everyone can afford white tie,” she said. “Black tie is absolutely fine, and we’ll keep it as cheap as we possibly can.”
DPOCA’s endeavours towards dress code accessibility have incorporated a cultural twist. Alongside traditional formalwear, students were encouraged to wear their own cultural clothing. Many of these garments had been handed down through the generations, making the event both more inclusive and more personal.
Yet beyond practical considerations such as affordability and dress codes, the beating heart of ball culture is the sense of belonging it fosters. Part of what makes DPOCA Ball so valued by its attendees is precisely that sense of belonging. “For a lot of people this is the only time they get to wear their cultural clothing in the academic year,” Nathania explained. “It’s a nice opportunity to be sat in a room with people who you can all relate to on some level.” The Afro-Caribbean Society (ACS) Ball has a similar impact, but on an even bigger scale. Last year it brought together ACS groups from Durham, Newcastle, and Northumbria, creating a North East-wide celebration. For many attendees, it was the only event where they could dress in cultural clothing, meet students from across the region, and celebrate their identity in a setting where they felt comfortable. Events like Afro-Caribbean Society (ACS) Ball and DPOCA Ball aren’t just social gatherings, they’re celebrations of identity and culture, as well as spaces for alumni to reconnect with current students. Other events, like Tweed and Polo Ball, connect students in different ways — through shared sport and tradition.
Despite the obstacles, balls remain a vital part of student life at Durham. They work to connect people across colleges, societies, and even universities. They showcase student talent, and offer students the chance to celebrate after a year of hard work. This sense of community, a night out that feels different from anything else in the academic calendar, is what keeps ball culture alive.
It is crucial that such opportunities are provided to all students, that no individual is left to feel stressed, unwelcome, or shut out. The problem isn’t that balls exist, it’s that too often, they’ve felt like they exist only for a certain kind of student. Ticket prices, dress codes, and hidden assumptions about access can all combine to make ball culture intimidating for many. But it doesn’t have to be this way. Societies, like DPOCA, have already demonstrated how to make balls more affordable, inclusive, and community oriented. Colleges offering grants have made a real difference, while committees experimenting with flexible dress codes or cultural twists are opening doors even further. As more societies find ways to make their events affordable and welcoming, the community culture of ball at Durham can only grow stronger.
Durham’s balls are changing, with more committees looking for ways to make them accessible and welcoming to a wider range of students. If this momentum continues, they won’t just survive, they’ll become events that feel open to everyone. What’s always made them special isn’t the formality or the venues, but the chance to connect: to celebrate with friends, to share traditions, and to feel part of something bigger. At their best, balls should be spaces where every student feels they belong, and the more they evolve in that direction, the stronger the culture will be.
