“Excuse me, do you guys know a good place to pee?”. As my first interaction at the hot queer girl event of the summer, it’s not a great start, but we can hardly blame this girl for her dilemma. La Camionera for being a victim of its own success.
As one of the last two bars aimed at queer women left in London, La Camionera is usually rammed by 7pm on a regular Saturday night. So it’s no surprise that the Hackney lesbian bar’s end-of-summer bash has attracted more punters than can reasonably be served by its one bathroom. By the time I arrive at ‘Club Camionera: summer break’ at 9pm, on my quest for the perfect lesbian night out, a steady trickle of desperate-to-pee revellers is already making its way to a nearby bar in the hope of a shorter queue.
The first essential for a good sapphic soirée is, it seems, ample bathroom provision.
The party has been going since 3pm and is set to continue until the early hours, catering to the full spectrum of daytime chill-seekers to late night party animals. Even with staggered entry tickets, it’s heaving: the early birds have apparently decided to stay on for the night. A sign of a good time, surely.
Inside, it’s an awkward squeeze to get to the bar, but the lure of ‘Wet Pussy Shots’, tonight’s special, is too much to resist. They’re sweeter than I expect and also bizarrely glittery, but mercifully without the knock-you-sideways burn of a spirit.
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Fortified, we make for the dancefloor beyond, which is the perfect level of busy-ness – full enough that you don’t get embarrassed getting your groove on, but not so full you can’t move your feet.
A wide range of outfits is on display around us. The official theme was so broad – “spring breakers, 2000s Ibiza, indie sleeze, 2014 Tumblr, summer thirst trap, beach trash, gay tourist, or whatever feels right” – that you could basically pick whichever fit your wardrobe and go with it.
But if I had to sum up what I saw? Most people have come in the standard uniform I’d describe as “east London queer”: cowboy boots, crochet, oversized shirts, and of course tattoos and mullets to match. I feel completely at home.
After a couple of songs (the DJs change every hour or so; when we arrive ,it’s perfectly chosen gay summer pop, segueing into dancier beats as the night goes on,) we’re sweaty enough to want a breather in the smoking area. The back corner is a great vantage point for people-watching.
As anyone who’s been in a FLINTA* space knows, a lesbian night isn’t just for lesbians. The event listing says to expect “a hot, inclusive crowd of lesbians, bisexual, trans, non-binary, and queer people”, and that’s a pretty accurate description of what I see.
Indeed, the first person I ask about why they came tonight isn’t a lesbian.
Nina is bisexual and currently in a relationship with a man. For her, tonight is all about connecting with her community.
“All my friends are lesbians, so where else would I be?” she says, gesturing to her group. Though she’s off the market tonight, she agrees that everyone is gorgeous.
“Honestly, I wasn’t worried about not looking gay enough tonight,” Nina confesses. “I was worried about not looking hot enough!”
An outsider might assume that a lesbian club night is just a chance for queer women to get it on without the distraction of men they’re not interested in. After all, if all that binds us together is our mutual attraction to women, what more could this be than a mass pairing-off session?
Another partygoer I spoke to, a non-binary bisexual, agrees with Nina that these spaces are about so much more than sex and dating.
“In a gay bar, I often feel like the third priority. It’s like it goes, cis gay men, cis straight women, then me, in terms of who they’re serving commercially,” they explain. “At a lesbian night, I don’t feel that way.”
They’re not interested in finding love tonight either, but there are the singles in the crowd who appreciate the fact that everyone here is an option, and with a few more introductions, I come across lesbian singleton Amy.
Apart from the dating prospects, she says she finds it more “calming” than a regular night out.
“I just don’t feel stressed. You’re not looking around like, ‘where are the gay people?”, Amy says.
When I ask her if a romance might be on the cards tonight, she gives me a coy smile.
“I just want to tell someone they’re hot, then I’ll be happy,” she says. Nevertheless, I spot her later dancing animatedly with a tall blonde. The next time I look over, they’re kissing.
Harriet, another hopeful single, is more direct. “I came here to get with someone. Everyone is hot, so when I see someone I like, I just go up and join the group. It feels like you can do that here.”
And you can – while most people have come in groups, there is plenty of chatting and mingling. Lighters with pink flames are passed around to everyone’s delight, illuminating smokers’ faces with a rosy glow.
Punters eagerly exchange compliments on outfits and tips for navigating queer Hinge, and by the time we drag ourselves away, I’ve given at least three people the name of my hairdresser. This, I realise, is what it really takes to make a great lesbian night out: lesbians (and all those who identify with that label enough to come along).
On our way out, we pass the girl we saw on her way for a pee, heading back in. Though it’s almost midnight, the party shows no sign of stopping, and I envy her energy to carry on.
Music, drinks and a fun theme all help, but we’re really here just to hang out with each other, romantically and platonically, in a space we know everyone will be welcoming, supportive and, and probably really hot.
Nonchalant x
Guest writer: Flora is a freelance journalist based In London, with a particular interest in Gen Z, theatre and queer culture. She has written about student protest movements, Edinburgh Fringe shows, and (of course) brat summer. She is currently studying for an MA in Newspaper Journalism at City, University of London.
