Although public physical contact has not been a defining feature of the last couple of years, London’s sex clubs are experiencing a renaissance, thanks to a generational shift. Think: fewer key bowls and CEOs in expensive lingerie, more pioneering house DJs and art students in makeshift harnesses, as younger crowds drive demand for events that foreground inclusivity, individuality and queerness. For smoke machines and St Andrew’s crosses, try Klub Verboten. For hedonism with a sense of humour, you’ll want Adonis. And for women and non-binary people, One Night offers a blend of Japanese rope bondage and R&B. Between them all lies Crossbreed, a night where underground stars such as Shanti Celeste and Tama Sumo DJ to a room full of techno fans who can partake in everything from exhibitionist orgies to solo cups of tea in a dancefloor-adjacent wellness sanctuary. “The [queer fetish] community has long been dominated by gay men, who have rightly claimed and taken up space,” explains Alex Warren, who founded the event in 2019. “But that has left bisexuals, pansexuals, lesbians, trans and non-binary people with fewer non masc-dominated spaces to call home.” While some events veer towards exclusivity, with membership systems and high ticket prices, Crossbreed – which has hosted events across the UK and is opening a new permanent home in London in February – aims to be as accessible as possible. Its parties have a trans and femme-only play space, and there’s a mutual aid ticket scheme to help those on low incomes. Warren says they positively discriminate on the door to make space for trans, non-white and disabled people. And the dress code is strict: you won’t get in wearing jeans. “It’s not designed to weed out cis straight men – it just so happens cis straight men are put off dressing up,” Warren says. “And if they are made to dress up, there may be a discomfort that lends to them feeling less entitled.” Fetish gear can be daunting for anyone, however. The first time M, 27, had tickets to Crossbreed, they almost bailed. “Everyone always looks so good in the pictures and I ended up panicking with 12 bras on the bed in front of me,” they remember. Soon after they arrived, though, they were helping a stranger whose suspenders kept pinging off. “We laughed a lot and made jokes about how everyone’s arse was out and I felt immediately comfortable.” ‘A space that strives to be utopian’: revellers at Crossbreed. ‘A space that strives to be utopian’: revellers at Crossbreed. Photograph: @arabellarchives Arabellarchives Crossbreed staff wearing light-up armbands monitor inappropriate behaviour. “We call it ‘perv patrol’,” says M. “Obviously, there’s like 1,000 wasted people there so it’s a really hard job, but I’ve never felt unsafe. They make a tangible effort to challenge the unhealthy sides of kink – mainly creeps who ignore consent and make other people uncomfortable.” While some people go to fetish events to “play” – the BDSM scene’s sweet, euphemistic term for all sorts of activities, including sex – what keeps most people coming back to Crossbreed is the combination of music and community. “I’ve not been to any other fetish party of the same scale that has the same degree of diversity and inclusivity,” says Tom, 33, who is non-binary. “I feel so accepted and un-judged at Crossbreed. I can be who I feel I am, and feel safe in doing so.” Warren is the resident DJ, performing under the moniker Kiwi, and also has a Crossbreed record label. “People come to dance. We just happen to create space for further hedonistic adventures,” says Warren, who started their event after navigating three “parallel universes” – DJing, partying in London’s queer/gay scene, and exploring its fetish community – and finding very little integration compared with other European cities such as Berlin. Uniting these three worlds is perhaps why Crossbreed has gone from an itinerant rave to selling out Fabric in just three years – two of which were eaten up by the pandemic. “People have had a lot of time to reflect and to find deeper understandings of their sexuality, gender, politics,” Warren suggests. “Crossbreed has become a natural home for a lot of these people.” ‘Everyone always looks so good in the pictures’: a perv patroller strikes out. ‘Everyone always looks so good in the pictures’: a perv patroller strikes out. Photograph: El Hogg It has the political concerns Warren mentions at its heart, too. As well as featuring hot people wearing relatively little, Crossbreed’s Instagram page starts conversations around sensitive topics such as racism in kink and how to respond to abuse without “cancellations”. Between the parties, there have been workshops on consent and bystander intervention. The aim is to help people hold each other to account, both inside the club and in daily life. “You’re not just coming to a dance, you’re active in creating a space that strives to be utopian,” says Warren. “A place where you can feel seen, desired, liberated and euphoric – something that sits adjacent to cis-heteropatriarchy and white supremacy.” Their jargon might have some older kinksters rolling their eyes, but Warren’s heartfelt political acumen is vitally meaningful to their attenders, like M, who is now a Crossbreed regular. “It has more of a ‘night out with your mates’ vibe than other events. When I’m on the dancefloor and everyone around me is so happy and queer, it feels like I’m in exactly the right place,” they say. “Getting the tube in full latex is dreadful, though.” Crossbreed begins its weekly residency at Colour Factory, London, on 13 February. This article was amended on 9 February 2022. An earlier version referred to Crossbreed’s parties having a “femme-only play space, where women and non-binary people can party away from men”; in fact it has a femme and trans-only play space that is open to anyone who identifies as femme or trans.