Why Folsom Matters
Folsom is the only two days a year where someone with my sexual interests is allowed to feel like my sexuality is normal – the only two days where I’m allowed to feel sexy in public wearing my favourite outfits.
If you’re vanilla, you’re allowed and encouraged to feel sexy in public 365 days a year. There are entire industries dedicated to helping you feel sexy – every clothing store, every make-up and perfume store, the personal hygiene aisle of every supermarket, every hairdresser exists to make you feel more sexy.
For me, that’s not the case. The shops that sell the gear in which I feel sexy are in Berlin, Amsterdam or London – or on the internet. If I want to wear my favourite gear outside of my own home, it needs to be in an enclosed, dedicated space like a club or a fetish bar. I have to cover it up on the way there, lest someone sees it. In my own home, I have to hide it when guests are coming over.
That’s the real power of Folsom. Standing outside in head to toe rubber, and feeling normal doing it. The strongest moments were not the parties or the sex (though those were good too.) The strongest moments were sitting in an Italian restaurant with 20 other guys in full rubber, having pizza like it was the most normal thing in the world. Having brunch in a café with guys in all kinds of gear. Having a cab driver tell you, “That’s a cool colour, that’s latex, right?” Having a middle-aged lady strike up a conversation with you on the street, telling you that your outfit looks cool, and proceeding to tell you how long she’s been living in Berlin and how she has almost no accent. Feeling accepted in what you like wearing best.
There are other aspects to Folsom of course. Getting interested and even admiring looks from other people and getting asked to have your photograph taken appeals to my exhibitionist nature. Unexpectedly running into friends that I hadn’t seen in years made me incredibly happy. I also had some sexual experiences that had a profound effect on me. The point stands: I could have this in other venues. The feeling of being accepted for what I am and what I like only exists at Folsom.
The first time leaving home after Folsom, it felt strange to go outside wearing just cotton, and without the feeling of rubber on my skin.
(Folsom in this context is Folsom Europe in Berlin, Germany.)
If you’re vanilla, you’re allowed and encouraged to feel sexy in public 365 days a year. There are entire industries dedicated to helping you feel sexy – every clothing store, every make-up and perfume store, the personal hygiene aisle of every supermarket, every hairdresser exists to make you feel more sexy.
For me, that’s not the case. The shops that sell the gear in which I feel sexy are in Berlin, Amsterdam or London – or on the internet. If I want to wear my favourite gear outside of my own home, it needs to be in an enclosed, dedicated space like a club or a fetish bar. I have to cover it up on the way there, lest someone sees it. In my own home, I have to hide it when guests are coming over.
That’s the real power of Folsom. Standing outside in head to toe rubber, and feeling normal doing it. The strongest moments were not the parties or the sex (though those were good too.) The strongest moments were sitting in an Italian restaurant with 20 other guys in full rubber, having pizza like it was the most normal thing in the world. Having brunch in a café with guys in all kinds of gear. Having a cab driver tell you, “That’s a cool colour, that’s latex, right?” Having a middle-aged lady strike up a conversation with you on the street, telling you that your outfit looks cool, and proceeding to tell you how long she’s been living in Berlin and how she has almost no accent. Feeling accepted in what you like wearing best.
There are other aspects to Folsom of course. Getting interested and even admiring looks from other people and getting asked to have your photograph taken appeals to my exhibitionist nature. Unexpectedly running into friends that I hadn’t seen in years made me incredibly happy. I also had some sexual experiences that had a profound effect on me. The point stands: I could have this in other venues. The feeling of being accepted for what I am and what I like only exists at Folsom.
The first time leaving home after Folsom, it felt strange to go outside wearing just cotton, and without the feeling of rubber on my skin.
(Folsom in this context is Folsom Europe in Berlin, Germany.)
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