Note: This feature first appeared on the now defunct WHIP! magazine.
Saturday, London, May 26th, 2018…
It’s a raging bunsen of a day in the capital … even a seat next to an open window in the back of a shiny black Mercedes hurtling through town feels stifling. But fuck it: I’m enjoying the ride, I’m off to Rubber Cult, and I’m loving it. A fast driver at the wheel and a night in a fast club ahead.
Onward freaky dancers!
I have to say, despite the temperature, it’s a somewhat perfect day for an evening in rubber. Some like it hot. Some love it naughty and hot. A latex loving fetishist? They fucking love it rubbery, naughty and hot! (and then some!) It takes a special breed to actually want to put on something tight and restrictive and oh so very sweaty on a hot day like this. But we love it. It’s in our blood. It’s who we are. That’s us. Good natured freaks and sweethearts with a penchant for tight and shiny clothing. I honestly wouldn’t swap it.
And god knows how some of you spent the evening head to toe with only nose holes and eye holes for comfort. You’re a tough breed and I love you.
Now onto the event…
The May special saw us troop along to a different venue than we’re used to. A temporary goodbye to the loving arms of The Alice, and a cheeky wink and hello to somewhere new. And that’s all I’m allowed to say about that. My zipper hood is sealed…
But I can talk about the feel of the event (other than the feel of latex, of course) and a little bit about the performers and the overall atmosphere of the night. It was a special one. Anyone there will agree. It felt right.
Every Rubber Cult is filled with toys and fun and games. We’re all big kids … only our vices and devices are somewhat strange and seemingly a little sinister to the outside world.
The vac cube captivated, the life drawing cultivated, and the demonstrations by Ropesluts, well…
There’s definitely something right in the world when you turn the corner in a surreal and enchanting house and you’re met with a gorgeous lady in latex tied up in rope floating around in mid-air right in front of you. It’s almost calming. To a lot of people that would sound strange, but a lot of people will know where I’m coming from. It’s satisfying, intriguing, arousing. It’s there in front of you in three dimensions, yet it still holds its own little mystery. What is the lady thinking, feeling? What is going on in her body? Everybody is different so she will be experiencing her own little adventure. These rabbit holes of thought are fascinating. What is pleasure? And how far does it burrow under your skin and into your nerves, flesh and mind?
I’ll be here all night if I continue, so I’ll get my rubber-clad butt onto the performers…
LOLO BROW’S a raging bunsen of her own: a pure thunderbolt. Strangely, and despite also writing about burlesque/cabaret for the past four years, I still hadn’t managed to see her perform … which is quite frankly a monumentally bizarre fuck up. So I saw her twice in two weeks … and this was the second time. The first time she didn’t wear latex, but this time she rightfully did! (even if she did catch her dress on a thorn hanging from the banister rail).
For her first act, Lolo Brow went for the NAILS-HAMMER-FACE … and I think a little bit of stapling. For her second, a dildo with a song and whole lot of glorious bravado.
Where Lolo Brow was madness and badness and beautiful, AMY STATIK was epic and eccentric and alluring. Her second act incorporated HUUUGE LED wings…
My words couldn’t do either justice, but the Rubber Cult event gallery can. Go hither!
What else happened? I know what happened, this happened: it seems Mother Nature is a fetishist (or at least in league with Kim and Synth)…
Thanks to my horrible smoking habit, I spent quite a bit of time outside. In doing so myself and about two or three other people increasingly noticed something brewing in the sky. Ooooooh, could it be an oh so sexiful thunderstorm starting to flash its tits and thunder its bits across London? Oh, fuck yes. It bubbled away: a little tease, a little thigh, a little shake, a little shimmy, until..
BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM!
Full blown boobies and chaos!
A sky filled with flashes, streaks, fork lightning, sheet lightning, and a deep rumbling from the lungs of Thor the Thunder God (or Goddess).
Rubber Cult + Thunderstorms = ONE BIG COLLISION OF ECSTASY AND EARTHLY INDULGENCE!
So the earthly Mistress of sinful and wicked deviance was with us all along…
It was a good place to be. People in rubber dancing around in the rain in the garden, electricity smashing around in the skies above, a venue full of seduction, and ultimately, one hell of an occasion.
It’s funny: the event has been and gone but I want to go back. I want to explore even more. I want to drag some of my best friends into that memory with me. May 26th and its Mistress of Deviance still lives and breathes – prowling around my cranium, beckoning me back into its loving arms and vacuum. I’m besotted, I’m stolen, I’m entwined. Wrapped up in rubber and rope and sunken within the depths of its majesty and mayhem.
So thank you, Rubber Cult, between yourself and the Gods of summer and thunder, I think that might just be your best Cult yet.
X
Mardi Gras Magazine 