Meet Montreal’s filthiest rave
At LATEX., hedonism is celebrated, and safety and consent are prioritized
On a recent Friday night, just shy of 1,000 people clad in black, leather and lace came together in the heart of Montreal's Quartier des Spectacles.
They gathered in fervent anticipation of another night of lust, communion and joyful pride at LATEX.
Since its inception in 2022, LATEX. has made a name for itself as Montreal’s filthiest rave, drawing inspiration from the vibrant energy of Berlin’s famously sex-positive techno spaces.
“[People see] the smoking section, they’re like, what the fuck is going on?” laughed Jeanne Dorais, co-organizer and self-described “legal guardian” of LATEX.
The most recent edition of LATEX. was a celebration of the Southwest Asian and North African (SWANA) community, with only SWANA performers and DJs present. This was the third SWANA edition hosted by LATEX., the first being in July 2023.
Beyond the mystique of its attendees’ nightlife outfits, the rave has established itself as a versatile environment with unique spaces. The BDSM dungeon, with its kinky furniture and toys, is a beloved feature, along with watching onstage performers to a backdrop of throbbing techno and the unifying, ritualistic energy of the dance floor.
Compared to the polished, vanilla energy of professional, daytime life, LATEX.’s raw but sexy countercultural atmosphere fosters a liberating atmosphere.
“I spent the whole night slapping asses,” said dungeon monitor Goddess Ges, describing her first-ever LATEX. gig where she was initially hired as a professional dominatrix in the rave’s early days.
But Ges’s responsibilities comprise more than just slapping asses and tying people to her St. Andrew’s cross.
“My responsibilities are to make sure that everything is safe,” Ges said. “To make sure every play scene is done in a consensual way, [and] is done safely.”
Ges has curated the dungeon at LATEX., ornamented with floggers, riding crops, a St. Andrew’s cross and bondage furniture where she gives people a space to experiment. This is different from her usual dungeon work, where she focuses on the submissive.
“A lot of people see [BDSM] as a bad thing,” Ges said. “When I worked [at LATEX.] as a domme, I didn’t really have control on what we were sharing with the people. I was just there to be a dominatrix and do what I do the best. But now I also instruct the people working with me. It really helps me to just [show] the world the way BDSM should be done.”
LATEX. has strict regulations surrounding dress code and behaviour. Before entering, staff place circular stickers, with “LATEX.” written in its signature hot pink, on the front and back of patrons’ smartphones, covering their cameras. Snapping a photo in the club can get you thrown out after a first-offence warning.
“It's the only way we can keep control and make it a safe space,” Dorais said. “We want everyone to feel understood, respected, safe, included.”
LATEX. was founded by Taher Gargouri, a Montreal-based DJ and rave curator. Gargouri spent about a year living in Berlin, staying there intermittently for five to six months at a time. Whilst cities like Berlin have relatively accessible routes into the BDSM community through sex clubs and raves, the scene in Montreal lacks space for a younger, BIPOC, queer crowd, according to Dorais.
“There aren't many spaces like there are in Berlin that are very inclusive. It felt like in the Montreal scene, the fetish scene or the kink scene in Montreal was very white, a bit older, very heteronormative,” Dorais said. “[That] was the idea, to bring that kind of [Berlin] vibe and make it happen in Montreal, and create a safe space for BIPOC, queer people to explore that very fun and kinky way of enjoying raving and music.”
This is where LATEX. comes in—a rave that creates a sex-positive atmosphere, without any obligation to join in with the kink. It’s a place where the focus is on expression and community. For kink newbies, it’s an opportunity to meet like-minded people and learn the ropes of safety and consent. For others, whether they’re experienced in BDSM or just looking to dress up and enjoy the atmosphere, it’s a fun and welcoming space to be themselves.
Rowan Steele, who was granted a pseudonym due to the nature of their occupation, attended their first LATEX. event nearly one and a half years ago, and has only missed one event since.
“In my first experience [at LATEX.], I was a little bit intimidated, even as someone who has unlearned a lot of sexual shame and who's very confident and comfortable in their own skin,” said Steele, who commutes from Ottawa to Montreal for each event.
“My first LATEX. experience really taught me that [kink spaces] are places of belonging, curiosity, experimentation and exposure to new sensations and feelings that can actually also encourage figuring out what you like and what feels good.”
For Steele, the fashion side of LATEX. is just as meaningful as everything else. They and their friends plan their outfits weeks in advance of the events.
“I love getting ready just as much as I love being there,” Steele said, “and just figuring out how we can best feel good in our bodies and serve a look, which kind of lends itself to the deliciousness that LATEX. creates.
There’s something simultaneously exciting, vulnerable and sincere about being near nude and sexually visible in a space where everyone else is in the same boat. Compared to other clubs that are primarily dominated by the male gaze and nightlife that does not always feel safe, LATEX. is like a sensual embrace.
“I've never been to a party where so many people just kind of walk up to you and ask with so much politeness and consent, like, ‘Can I make out with you?’” Steele laughed. “People are very caring and considerate, and that helps me come out of my shell and focus on connecting instead of protecting. [...] I just think LATEX. is a really important part of my journey when it comes to feeling good in my body and reclaiming my sexual autonomy on my own terms.”
LATEX. has partnered with GRIP, a nonprofit that encourages safer drug use practices, and Équijustice, an organization focused on mediating conflicts, cyber crime, harassment, intimate violence and mistreatment.
“Every single party in the city has had situations that either made someone uncomfortable or made a mistake. When you have that many people on substances in one building partying, there are always things to learn,” said Syana Barbara, one of LATEX.’s resident DJs. “One thing I do want to give props to LATEX. for is that they’ve always listened to their crowd [...] and actively take the criticism, whether good or bad, and say, ‘OK, we’re gonna make sure at the next party it doesn’t happen.’"
While LATEX. is known for its unbridled energy, throbbing techno and unapologetic, kinky celebration, it is also a political collective.
“A huge majority of the nightlife scene is conducting normal business in total silence as if nothing is happening,” Dorais said. “A major change has to strike the status quo. [...] There’s no room for Zio[nist]s, genocide apologists or both-sides neutrality in our events.”
“Celebrating SWANA culture and uplifting our community means the world to us,” read a recent LATEX. Instagram post.
LATEX. is more than just a rave. For the community, the message on the event’s website is clear: “We are here, we are queer, and we are FREE.”
This article originally appeared in Volume 45, Issue 4, published October 22, 2024.