A Love Letter to The Awards for Excellence

If there is a Manx equivalent to the Oscars, it’s got to be the Isle of Man Awards for Excellence. An institution that’s as Manx as the Hills, the annual event is a celebration of the good and great of the island. While many nations would simply hand out a few trophies, shake a few hands, have a few weepy speeches (which, of course, definitely does happen at the awards), the Isle of Man Awards for Excellence is true to it’s Manx roots- which, in layman’s terms, means it’s an sesh-extraordinaire. 

Separating it from any other night out on the island are two things: location and dress-code. There is something so infinitely- well, classy isn’t the right word here, but something along those lines- about a night out at the Villa: it’s half the appeal of going to the Thriller. I’ve only ever experienced the awards from the cheap seats (despite sauntering around all those VIPS, fake lashes flickering in a failed attempted to be the Marilyn to certain MHKs JFKs) but that’s where the craic is- though those meals served on those circular tables smell pretty incredible when you’re a pint of prosecco down. Of course, it’s unlikely I or many of the other women at the awards would be able to stomach a full-meal: an unofficial part of the dress-code is knickers that hold everything in and make it impossible to keep anything down. 

Beauty is, of course, pain- and the pain is worth it for the Awards. When it comes to getting dolled up, this is a night that is perhaps more important than your wedding day. Sure, the Awards are annual, but so is your wedding if you play Tinder right and have a decent divorce lawyer under your belt. With any one worth knowing there- including the best of your exes- this is your one (annual) opportunity to make sure you create a decent backlog of Instagram shots of you in black tie. This is something akin to prom (which you may have had in the same room) and must inject thousands into Manx beauty businesses. If you’re anything like me, the week of the awards you’ll have had vague off-site client meetings booked into your work calendar, and would come back with your hair suspiciously lighter and skin significantly more tanned. Who knew the November sun was so strong?

Like the Oscars, putting bets down on who will win each category is part of the fun. Settle down with your pint of prosecco (this is the drink of choice) and get competitive with the in-built drinking game. This is not an official part of the ceremony (despite my requests for it to be one) but certainly part of the fun. Money should not be exchanged, unless you’re flash enough to be working at one of those big accounting firms, but rather sips of prosecco. I don’t want to tell you how this game ends up, but a former colleague of mine has been quoted as saying “awards drunk is a different level of drunk”. 

Half way through is the interval: necessary for breaking the seal, adjusting the Spanx and of course, getting a fag break in. Of course, as a responsible journalist, I could never encourage such a reckless vice as smoking (think of the lines you’ll get around your mouth! Botox and retinol can only achieve so much!), but I do recommend going outside for a bit of that harsh winter air. If you don’t freeze to death, this is the time to socialise. If you’re business-minded, you’ll think of it as a networking event, if you’re an actual human being, you’ll just find it incredibly fun. This is the time when the Manx political elite and business heads have a few drinks with us mere commoners, and it’s a truly beautiful sight to see blurry memories be made. Think the Outback smoking area, except everyone has a few more fine lines and the dresses have a lot more fabric. 

Just as the hypothermia is about to set in, it’s time to return to the bar to refill your pint of prosecco and enjoy the second half of the show. This is where the highlight of the night takes place: the lifetime achievement award. There’s never a dry eye in the house: this is the moment where you can truly feel proud to be Manx. It’s then followed by the Manx national anthem, or Ellan Vannin. Excuse the vagueness here, I cannot remember what happened due to said pints of prosecco. I’ve tried to corroborate with the others I know who’ve been to the event but they’ve had the same problem. All I know for sure is that I was having a good time.

After the party is, of course, the after party. There isn’t any rule that photos can’t be taken (this isn’t the Met Gala) but god there should be. What happens at the Awards for Excellence after party should stay there: primarily so we can go to our Monday morning meetings without being completely consumed with anxiety.

Fancy attending the island’s fanciest evening of the year? You can pick up your tickets by emailing rachel.kay@iomtoday.co.im.