As the weather is getting a bit cooler and everything is getting a bit more spooky, we are entering in prime Darty season — one of my favorite times of the year. Of course, darties are arguably year-round, but the true, classy, U.Va. darty is the one that takes place on Saturday afternoon in sweater weather. I want to explain my preference for darties rather than regular night parties, and I thought the best way to do this was to perform a comparative analysis. The Darty: Everyone is well dressed — like surprisingly well dressed. You see khakis, polos and blanket scarfs (blarfs) all around you. It is a refreshing change from the distressed jeans and crop tops you normally see. There finally is more selection than Burnett’s and Busch. There may be decent wine or Bold Rock lying around. In some cases, if you are really lucky, there is a keg. You can actually be outside in the cool weather with beautiful blue skies. You can just chat with your friends and meet new people. There usually is a live band that is pretty good and plays great songs, meaning you are not subjected to strange EDM remixes. There aren’t seizure-inducing strobe lights. I repeat, no weird strobe lights. No one is drunk yet — it seems everyone is at that golden level and are just having a casual good time. (Except for that one guy in the polo who just vomited in the bushes or the one that just did his fourth keg stand.) You can take pictures with your friends and actually post them on Instagram. The night ends fairly early with everyone grabbing a fun dinner. The hard core ones go back out after changing into their crop tops and denim. You walk back to your house, looking at all of the cute pictures your friends, and you took with a smile on your face. The Party: Everyone is wearing the exact same thing, including you. Usually there is an odd theme — the classic highlighter theme for example — involved that the other girls somehow made look amazing, but you definitely don’t look like a sexy highlighter. If you are extremely lucky, there are drinks other than Fruit Punch Burnett's and disgusting lukewarm store-brand mixers. You are cramped inside with a thousand first-years, who are giggling because they managed to get into the party by climbing through a second-story window. How they climbed up to the window, you don’t know. The music actually sucks. You can’t hear anyone in the room, so you and your friends try to dance. When a good song finally comes on, it cuts off randomly and devolves into a strange EDM mix that only the frat guys think is hype. There are most definitely seizure-inducing strobe lights that are quite confusing — even if you are stone-cold sober. Everyone is drunk and sweaty — I mean everyone. There is vomit and dirt all over the floor. Your friend is falling over. Your other friend has run away somewhere. There are two or more people making out right next to you. How they could be in the mood in this environment you really don’t know. You can’t take pictures. You really can’t. It’s too dark, and if you manage to find light and try to snap a picture there are either cups in the background or a weirdly placed trash bag over the walls to block out the windows. You feel like you are in prison. You walk back home with your friend, who you managed to find in the attic of the party. You wonder how she even got up there, but she somehow met and now is best friends with the president of the frat. Your other friend just stopped to throw up in the bushes. You finally get home and plop into bed and feel a headache coming on. Following this analysis, it is clear that the darty is superior. Besides your friend who somehow made great friends with a frat president, there are no clear benefits of the party over the darty. So, I would suggest that all of you put on your cutest fall clothes and head straight for the next darty this weekend. You won’t regret it. Sarah Holzgrefe is a Humor Columnist for The Cavalier Daily. She can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.