90s hen party dance class Derby floor-fillers, taught properly
The decade that produced more dances the general public can half-perform than any other, taught by somebody who can do all of them correctly. Nothing is prepared in advance; the routine is invented in the room while the group watches. One price covers everyone in the room — £176 for ninety minutes, with the venue cost of the hired room written in beside it before you agree to anything. Nineties fans with a busier itinerary can book sixty minutes for £151 plus venue.
Eighteen people, one enormous grin
Somewhere around the second track, when the group stops treating it as nostalgia and starts treating it as a competition.
Get a date down before the summer Saturdays go
Give the desk a rough date and a rough headcount and a phone call comes back with room availability and a single written figure covering the class and the venue. Saturdays between May and September are the ones that disappear, so it pays to ask early.
Half the group wanting a different decade is normal and changes nothing — a hen do dance class can be re-themed weeks after the date is held, and shifting a dance hen party from one era to another is a one-line message. There is no dance experience required here at all, which is why this hen party dance class is usually the first of the hen party activities everybody agrees on, and the only hen party idea that gets the aunties involved.
Routines built out of things people already half know
"Half the room can already do four counts of something. The ninety minutes are about turning that into a whole routine that eighteen people do together." Working method, every nineties booking
This theme has an unfair advantage: muscle memory. Plenty of what gets taught is sitting somewhere in the group already, dormant since a school disco, and the teacher's job is mostly to clean it up, get it in time and put a proper shape around it. Progress feels alarmingly fast as a result.
Ninety minutes is the booking we would make. If the room is flying, it lets the teacher stretch the routine beyond a single track, add the formation changes that make a large party look organised rather than enthusiastic, and film the finish without a scramble. Sixty minutes still gets one track learned properly with a real ending. Nothing is filmed at our end, so what survives the day is whatever your group chooses to record.
School-disco muscle memory wakes up at its own speed, which is the quiet argument for ninety. The guest who remembered every move by minute five gets time to polish, and the one still thawing out has room to catch her up before the phones come out.
Banned songs are as useful to the teacher as requested ones. Put both in the form.
Five floor-fillers in contention
WannabeThe non-negotiable. Learnable in minutes, impossible for a room to resist.
bankerSaturday NightThe arm routine half the country thinks it can do. Taught properly at last.
front-runner5,6,7,8Lines, stomping and a lot of shouting. Excellent for big parties.
if the room is bigCotton Eye JoeFast, daft and the reason somebody always ends up on the floor laughing.
wildcardGonna Make You SweatProper house energy for a finale, with the simplest counts on the list.
closerIn plain terms: a shortlist, not a schedule. Which of these gets taught is decided on the day by the teacher, based on the group actually in front of them.
One song the party must have?Put it on the form and it goes into the reckoning first.
Send the date ↑
Where ninety minutes of nineties land in a Derby day
Most groups take the mid-afternoon slot and go straight out afterwards. The Chapel Street, Derby DE1 3GU room is the better bet for that, sitting at the top of the centre a few minutes from Friar Gate and the Cathedral Quarter; the Railway Terrace, Derby DE1 2RU room is the one for parties arriving by train from Ilkeston or Long Eaton, and it is close enough to the Derbion for anyone who left the outfit until the morning.
What the party wears is the party's own business. Nothing is supplied by us — no crop tops, no bucket hats, no butterfly clips — because we turn up with a teacher, a speaker and a room, and that is the whole of it. Whether you go full 1997 or arrive in leggings makes no difference to the class and an enormous difference to the photographs.
Two letters from the dancefloor
"Eighteen of us and I genuinely expected chaos. The teacher split the room into two lines within five minutes and from then on it looked like we knew what we were doing, which nobody who knows us would believe."
"I am fifty-nine and had assumed I would be watching from a chair. I was not. Same price whether you join in or not, so I joined in, and I have the video to prove it was a reasonable decision."
Want the same afternoon?A short message holds the date and starts the written quote.
Get a quote ↑Six straight answers
Anything not answered here, ring 07534 019087 and ask a person directly.
What is the damage for ninety minutes of nineties? +
One figure for the party: £176 for a full ninety minutes of nineties, the venue cost of the hired room written alongside. Pressed for time? The one-hour version costs £151, plus the venue.
What kind of nineties tracks get used? +
Recognisable floor-fillers, picked on the day. Wannabe, Saturday Night, 5,6,7,8, Cotton Eye Joe and Gonna Make You Sweat are the usual candidates.
How is this different from a Spice Girls booking? +
A Spice Girls session sticks to one band; this one roams the whole decade. If the party only wants the band, book that theme instead.
Does it matter that we missed the decade? +
No. Everything is taught from scratch, and the younger half of a party often learns it faster for not remembering it wrong.
Do we have to raid the wardrobe for this? +
Entirely optional. We hand out none of it, so the wardrobe is the party's own call — leggings get the same class throughout.
Do we find out the address beforehand? +
Yes, and well before the day. One of two hired rooms — the station-side one on Railway Terrace, or the Chapel Street one further up — is named on your confirmation.