Nude
NUDE
WRITTEN BY IZZIE CLAUDIO
PHOTOGRAPHED BY BIRDIE NELSON
“Do you have anything on underneath?” asked the bouncer.
“Yes,” I nodded with confidence. Hidden underneath my black slacks and sweater was an outfit sure to match the dress code. He handed my ID back to me and waved me in. I walked through the vine-covered trellis and arrived at a mysterious door with no handle. I pushed it open and entered another world: my second time at KitKatClub and my first time clubbing solo.
KitKatClub is a well-known club in Berlin and has been around since 1994. KitKat is known first and foremost as a sex club. But, its vast size allows for sex and regular ongoings of a club to coexist. Sex wasn’t what I was seeking. I simply wanted a space where I could dance without the constraint of clothes.
I love being naked. I was never instilled with the misconstrued idea that nudity is equal to sex. Instead, I was taught to appreciate the freedom of nudity and let go of any insecurity surrounding it. I do the nude bike ride every year in Chicago and have the time of my life letting my boobs feel the fresh air.
I walked to the bag check area where everyone was getting undressed. It was a sea of leather and lace and I couldn’t wait to jump in. I took off my pants revealing garters and my favorite pair of black satin underwear. I unbuttoned my sweater and my boobs were once again free to feel the air; only black X’s covered my nipples. I felt a unique mix of exhilaration and calm wash over me.
Once I was free of my belongings, including my phone, I wandered into the wonderland of KitKat. Another bouncer gave me an approving nod confirming I met the dress code. I wove through the crowd with complete ease brushing past G-strings and tight latex shorts. No judgment, no care. The body was free, as was the mind.
From what I observed and experienced, KitKat is a consent-based space. No truly means no at one of the most famous sex clubs in the world. With no problems, I turned down people aiming for something more with me that night. A quick “no” and they were gone. Not only was it shockingly easy, but I felt a sense of renewed power. Even with only my nipples covered by tape and my ass cheeks hanging out, a simple “no” should always indicate I do not want to engage in any sexual activities. Consent was respected at KitKat, and that is tough to find in many other places, including the United States. It felt paradoxical that a sex club gave the most comfortable clubbing experience thus far. I didn’t feel predatory eyes on me; everyone was simply there for a good time. KitKat makes it clear that consent is at the core of their policies. On their website they state: “We are not a swingers club. Touching without the other person’s consent, or while passing by, will result in a ban from the premises for life.” They’re not playing around.
KitKat embraces a sex-positive environment. It’s not a place where you must have sex, it’s a place where you can have sex, if that’s what you’re in the mood for. Cleavage doesn’t mean “fuck me,” short skirts don’t mean “fuck me,” nothing means “fuck me,” except “yes, I want to have sex.” Clothes can’t speak and lack of clothes can’t speak either. At KitKat, my voice was taken seriously, and this power drove my joy through the roof. Not only was I happy to be naked, but I was happy to be in power.
I walked to the side of the dance floor, where there was an elevated stage. Dancing on an elevated surface is my drug of choice, so I stepped up and let loose completely. I closed my eyes and swayed to the trance beats blasting from the speakers. I spun around. I jumped. I moved my hips. All with an empowering feeling of safety. I was drunk on freedom. I laughed with strangers, I danced with strangers; the physical and mental release of nudity is what brought us all together.
Did I see a blow job on the dance floor? Yes. Did I see a threesome about to occur on one of the beds up on the balcony? Yes. But, I felt no pressure to engage. I just let my boobs bounce and my thighs jiggle, dancing into the early morning.