I’d either heaven that is entered hell, the termination for the planet or the begin of a fresh one.
Clare Hand is a self-described flaming London lesbian. She’s spent the this past year composing about queer women’s nightlife inside her town. She documents the environment, music, fashions, vibe (will you get set or make mates that are new), and people behind the evenings.
Clare decided she packed her bags and hit the road that it wouldn’t be right to only document dyke nightlife in one city, so. She’s written in regards to the thriving scenes in nyc, bay area, Bogota, Sao Paulo, Berlin, and Dublin thus far. This list shall keep expanding. Keep an optical eye on the Dyke Nightlife Diaries right here.
I’ve just stepped on the path that is dusty to Berghain. I’m able to notice it: the unmistakable tangible facade regarding the power plant switched sanctuary of hardcore techno and queer hedonism.
The sight is my cue to simply just simply take my fill up and buckle my leather harness up. The old folks taking their grandkids to the lakes don’t need to see me in all my Bergs glory it’s a Sunday afternoon, and though Berlin is a very permissive place. Together with dudes from the tram whom confuse a glimpse of the thigh that is harnessed a cry for attention, input, or even the D won’t ever deserve to notice it.
The queue takes around 30 mins; we snake in a quiet single-file line, anxiety brewing even as we get nearer to the door—the infamous home, with certainly one of the world’s many infamous entry policies. I continue a Sunday within the very early night whenever the queues are far faster compared to three hours you can easily wait for a Saturday night (Berghain events in many cases are weekend-long, to discover a consistent blast of sets by the largest names in techno).Read More»