Telling me there’s a club I can’t get into is like a red latex catsuit to a bullish male, and so it was with Pussy Control @ Fire in South London Friday 4th February. Fire know how to party. I’ve been to fetish nights next door at Lightbox and invariably this little gay club is still going past five am, pumping out noise like relentless builders in Dubai. And in Fire, Pussy Control also have themselves a sweet, brilliantly illuminated venue for their new much-talked about women-only event. Geared as a beginner’s fetish night for women and fetisexual deviants Pussy Control is a modest night with one playroom, but yet there was certainly an all-pervasive pout of delicious kink throughout.
The atmosphere was certainly more relaxed and less latex intensive. I’m from Brighton where lesbian nights are ten-a-Penelope. Some nights are little butch and in your face, scoping with full broadband wirelez. Turn a street in Kemp Town and some cliques really hate or blame all men for, perhaps justly, all crimes against the world. Most times it’s chilled, but you can’t ignore the hardcore, I have enough gay friends complaining about it for sure.
What I look for, and what I found at Pussy Control, is a place where no one cares about all that. I never assume with prejudgement and yearn to be where people can be people, with all their difference and contradiction – basically, their humanity. And so it is with Pussy Control. Admittedly we were in the L-word (very) pretty-world side of females wanting females. The place was heaving with gorgeous women and a few well-turned out guys (with their girlfriend, domme or chaperone), seasoned with a sprinkle of transvestites, representing the traditional fetish-scene.
I have to give this a thumbs up for women who want their fetish nights secure and softer and prefer to avoid the in-your-face monkeys that are men and the on-your-case crusaders of ‘Queer!’ that can so often be cartoonish. And single guys, it’s literally not worth it unless you’re with a lesbian friend, girlfriend or subbing for your mistress, because you will probably feel too awkward. But that’s to miss the subtle point that weekend cheese-merchants of all persuasions and pursuits are redundant here. Everyone’s having too much of an L for lovely time. My thanks go to John Wilson for the top-drawer photography. Full gallery and review to follow on the Skin Two website soon!
