On Wednesday evening,
the first night of The
Fetish Marathon, I was invited to Domina Dante
Posh's "Independence Party," where she was celebrating her domme independence
and no longer being, um, tethered to a specific pro dungeon. She's
been traveling the globe as of late, starring in fetish videos, modeling
fab Euro fashions and otherwise just being uber-glam!
Her intimate soiree consisted of close friends, ex-co-worker-dommes
and her main mentor, the eminent Mistress Mir. It was held at Mistress
Wynter's well-appointed dungeon, complete with back yard, and it was
a warm and wonderful way to kick off the festivities.
From there we trekked down to Don Hill's, not for anything fetishy,
but for The
Sex Slaves' CD release bash.
The place was packed with skinny young rock studs and hot hipsters
and I was a big hit in my Sex Slaves LED belt buckle. Once my favorite
boy band in Manhattan finished up their hard-hitting set, we skipped
out the door and headed for Opaline and RubberCat's
Meet & Greet. I hadn't planned to wind up there, so I was in jeans
and a T-shirt and that aforementioned blinky belt buckle. Which, of
course, was a crowd pleaser; anything with Sex and Slaves usually
is a hit at a fetish event!
Lucky for me they had suspended their "strict" dress code for the
evening, so no one harassed me for my very un-cool blue denim. Everyone
else paid little or no attention to the lack of dress code and really
brought it in the ensemble department, given that it was only supposed
to be a warm-up for the big week.
The two towering latex fetishists in hoods and the whole shebang really
made a statement -- and made me feel woefully
underdressed! But by then I was good and bombed, so it didn't matter
toooo much! I wound up having my feet worshipped by three men at a
time and then madly dancing barefoot to amazing 80s tunes and other
assorted oldies spun by DJ Lestat.
Thursday began with a hangover, as I'd expected, so I said "Yes indeedy!"
when Mistress HarleQuinn called me for a late lunch/early dinner.
Oh, if you'd only seen us in our high hangover glam! Me with my post-Princeton
Reunions conga line mishap black eye and gym clothes and HarleQuinn
in cargo shorts (?!?) and a stretched-out hoodie!
We engaged in some serious carbo loading in anticipation of the big
night to come. After I laced myself into my brand new Editrix garment
from Delicious
Corsets and pinned on a few boas, I helped lace a rookie fetish
party enthusiast into her first corset, met up with my adorable crossdressing
friend Peter and off we went, walking to the conveniently located
Webster Hall.
The three of us weren't in the door five minutes before I was approached
by a tall, handsome young man offering to buy me a drink. He remained
by my side, making sure I had a cocktail in my hand, throughout the
entire evening. That alone would've ensured my good time!
As for my take on the event, that's a bit complex. The buzz on the
event had been somewhat negative. So many people didn't even go, or
want to, which was a drag. It would've been nice if everyone in New
York had been really excited about the event and more motivated to
attend.
I believe there were many reasons -- number one of which was the space.
People were "turned off" by it being held at Webster Hall and I was
very skeptical about how well sharing the venue with the usual
Thursday vanilla crowd would work. Kudos to whoever helped facilitate
the lack of crossover. Even getting in was easy!
The fashion shows were fucking amazing! Veritee
Hill's stuff was beautiful and those feather headdresses by Y
Santi Azul are to die for! The Vex
Latex show, which culminated in a few dozen fetish VIPs milling
around onstage like a latex cocktail party in heaven was just
beautiful! Glancing down at all that from the mezzanine was lovely
and surreal and made me feel like I was in just the right place.
There were complaints that the play
space was too small, but it's hard to schlep a lot of huge equipment
to these events because New Yorkers don't have a lot of storage space
to keep equipment handy and then move it to a venue for one night.
Frankly, I thought there was enough space given that the club is huge
and if you use your imagination you can play anywhere. You have a
whip, crack it! Improvise! It was too cramped to actually see
the play; I kept trying to watch HarleQuinn's piercing demo and it
was just too crowded.
The breathtaking Ula was suspended over the stage in a big metal hoop,
like a bird, and that looked pretty cool. I think I missed most of
the shows since I was so busy being a celebrity! Guffaw. But in the
end, a big ball like that is more about the attendees, and they (we?)
were definitely spectacular!
I grabbed a few accomplices and bumbled out of the club around threeish
for some late-night antics at Three of Cups. When we got kicked out
of there, a whole bunch of us piled into cabs and hit Paddles
for their after-hours party. I have a feeling we may not be welcome
back there anytime soon; the level of our misbehavior was probably
unprecedented!
When we'd exhausted our enjoyment of the equipment at Paddles -- and
thoroughly worn out our welcome -- we headed uptown to a friend's
apartment for even more misbehavior! Let's just say I won't
be looking at nursery school furniture the same way ever again! I
got home at noon, which means I really had a blast!
I spent Friday sprawled on the couch, trying to recover from the previous
two evenings, so I didn't make it to The Baroness's Cocktail Party
or the two play parties hostessed by Mistress Didi or Mistress Evita.
I just couldn't get myself vertical.
Saturday night was SMack!
at Crash Mansion with a cybersexy FutureSex theme. I decked myself
out in EL wire and that blinky belt buckle, reprogrammed to read FutureSexy,
along with a post-apocalyptic Lara Croft-type ensemble. I was supposed
to be the MC, but tech problems conspired against that happening,
so I decided more vodka drinks were in order.
The place wasn't near big enough to hold all the fantastic freaks
in their fabulous fetish gear, and Mistresses Wynter and HarleQuinn
were having a helluva time trying swing their floggers, but given
the level of enthusiasm, it was a fun party. The set by More
Machine Than Man alone was worth the price of admission. Their
visuals were gorgeous and their music provided the perfect soundtrack
for the latex-enhanced dance floor. And Mistress Lola's bloody domination
performance had the crowd transfixed.
When the lights came up and we were being herded out around 4:30 am,
I jumped in a cab headed uptown to yet another after-hours gathering,
where a handful of us sat outside in a friend's backyard drinking
beers and chatting till noon the next day. That about did me in for
the week and disabled me to the point where I couldn't attend The
Baroness's Fetish Retinue Sunday night. It ain't easy being such a
party girl, I'll tell ya!
I already can't wait for next year's Fetish Marathon!
•
EROTICA
/ ZINE
