Togas over tech: An SF co-living house throws a Greek tragedy party (no AI talk allowed)

I had two choices as I stood at the foot of a four-story NoPa Edwardian wearing a last-minute attempt at a Grecian gown and heels way too high for San Francisco’s hills: 

Take a short hike into Hades’ underworld on the first floor? Or scale three steep flights into a heavenly Elysium?

I chose to take my chances in hell—and emerged into a black-lit dance floor bumping with bodies swathed in flowy garments and Greco-Roman-style breastplates. Stark-white masquerade face masks were strewn about the house, like the remnants of some secret ritual (had I just missed a sex party?).

But, this wasn’t any Eyes Wide Shut affair—in fact, the online invitation explicitly said “not a play party.” Rather, the elevated toga party, Spring Bacchanalia, hosted by “intentional living community” the Muse earlier this month featured interactive activity rooms alongside the usual San Francisco house party fare (beer, wine, virgin gin and tonics). You could introspectively paint a reflection of your soul while crouched on the floor, or sip hot tea in a dim and intimate lounge, or have your worldly cares worked out of your back in a red-lit massage room. 

The bash was thrown by a collection of “deep thinkers, deep feelers and deep empaths”—a loose assortment of young techies, aspiring thespians and others “focused on action and making change”—who reside at the Muse, or just use the house as a, well, muse for their intellectual wanderings and creative endeavors. 

Instead of the usual San Francisco party tricks du jour—Vision Pros, generative AI demos—the night began with an immersive play, called Lyra, that mashed together the great Greek love myths of Orpheus and Eurydice and Hades and Persephone, tossing in some Dante’s Inferno in for good measure. 

Muse co-founder Thibault Duchemin wanted the play to set the scene for the party, which celebrated the arrival of spring, and for the party to extend the shelf life of the play. 

“Something that I’ve always been frustrated with is that you have such beautiful decor in theater,” said Duchemin. “Then 9 p.m. you’re done.” Here “you want to fall asleep still in this universe,” he continued. “You’ve just watched an Orphic journey about love and about overcoming heartbreak. … Now, like, walk through the spaces.” 

The party was also an invitation for friends—and friends of friends—to connect on a deeper level, away from San Francisco’s ever-present technological advancements. “This would never be created by an AI,” Duchemin said. “Like, we never talked about AI at all during the whole play.” 

Invites to the Muse’s themed and seasonal parties are by word of mouth, but you can follow the collective @themusesf for updates.