SubRosaDictum's
Der Geheime Garten
As the year draws to a close (21st December round here with the Burning of the Clocks!) our contributor & latex fashionista fetishist extraordinaire picks her hot highlight of 2015. Get ready for wild reportage from SpikeyO
Munich, Germany
Less cucumber sandwiches sans crusts and lashings of tea served in Royal Daulton bone china cups, SubRosaDictum's secret fetish garden party is much more firmly based on style and seduction, hedonism and happiness, gratification and gusto; plus carnality and comfort.
I first made the acquaintance of the SubRosaDictum's Der Geheime Garten (Secret Garden Party) in August last year (2014) and was captivated and intoxicated by what I found. Some uncharitable types might say it was the overindulgence of "special Munich cocktails" which contributed to my intoxication. Not so this year with the organisers congratulating me on walking out on my own two feet – 6" heels cast aside. Heck, this time round I was even spotted with a bottle of water in my rubbered hand. However, fear not dear friends – a plethora and profusion of Prosecco refills were forever on standby.
For any self-respecting female fetishist (or male for that matter) attending a public event on the scale and quality of Der Geheime Garten, hobbling around in 6" heels (or higher) is the industry norm. However, given the fact that a large proportion of the event occurs outdoors in the opulent grounds of a very special, undisclosed location (as a condition of purchasing the ticket, the guests are forbidden to reveal the name of venue on pain of punishment and torture) negotiating grass, gravel and uneven paving stones can be tricky for the uninitiated.
Some clever fellow latex lovers might have the foresight to come prepared with their rubber Converse or Hunters so they can intrepidly explore the labyrinthine proportions of the efflorescent setting of Der Geheime Garten. I, on the other hand, peel off my stupidly gargantuan heels and set off with my partner Rubberdude to probe the inner sanctum of the party, my bare tootsies relishing the soft, cool lawn underfoot.
As I meandered around the rest of Der Geheime Garten the maze-like proportions of the luminous surroundings soon become apparent to me. To set the scene for the otherworldly surroundings we discovered that the al fresco foyer area was furnished with Grecian sculpture ornamentation illuminated with supernatural lighting.
We sat on extraordinary sofas upholstered with lush green pasture (yes real grass folks). Further exploration led to an internal boulevard shimmering with a thousand flickering candle lit Moroccan lanterns. This was the central play area where translucent voile curtains served to create numerous individual private spaces for those intent on diabolism or just hardcore sex… oh go on then, you've talked me into it.
The scopophiliacs* in our midst may have been thwarted by the wafting portieres shielding their stares so they consoled themselves with the abundant comfy couches in the main space to lounge and consider their next lustful move. Off to the sides were alleyways of abandonment and inlets of iniquity where lewdness, licentiousness, sinfulness and wickedness were all the order of the day. After an unspecified duration of fun and fornication (whilst trying not to crush the laminated spikes of my Dayne Henderson custom made catsuit) we strolled back to the main party.
A brief detour led us to yet another clandestine area where fetishists frolicked in front of a fire pit furnace shaped like a giant red mouth, reminiscent of the scene from Videodrome where Debbie Harry's lips fill the screen as she murmurs "Come to me…"
Less cucumber sandwiches sans crusts and lashings of tea served in Royal Daulton bone china cups, SubRosaDictum's secret fetish garden party is much more firmly based on style and seduction, hedonism and happiness, gratification and gusto; plus carnality and comfort.
I first made the acquaintance of the SubRosaDictum's Der Geheime Garten (Secret Garden Party) in August last year (2014) and was captivated and intoxicated by what I found. Some uncharitable types might say it was the overindulgence of "special Munich cocktails" which contributed to my intoxication. Not so this year with the organisers congratulating me on walking out on my own two feet – 6" heels cast aside. Heck, this time round I was even spotted with a bottle of water in my rubbered hand. However, fear not dear friends – a plethora and profusion of Prosecco refills were forever on standby.
For any self-respecting female fetishist (or male for that matter) attending a public event on the scale and quality of Der Geheime Garten, hobbling around in 6" heels (or higher) is the industry norm. However, given the fact that a large proportion of the event occurs outdoors in the opulent grounds of a very special, undisclosed location (as a condition of purchasing the ticket, the guests are forbidden to reveal the name of venue on pain of punishment and torture) negotiating grass, gravel and uneven paving stones can be tricky for the uninitiated.
Some clever fellow latex lovers might have the foresight to come prepared with their rubber Converse or Hunters so they can intrepidly explore the labyrinthine proportions of the efflorescent setting of Der Geheime Garten. I, on the other hand, peel off my stupidly gargantuan heels and set off with my partner Rubberdude to probe the inner sanctum of the party, my bare tootsies relishing the soft, cool lawn underfoot.
As I meandered around the rest of Der Geheime Garten the maze-like proportions of the luminous surroundings soon become apparent to me. To set the scene for the otherworldly surroundings we discovered that the al fresco foyer area was furnished with Grecian sculpture ornamentation illuminated with supernatural lighting.
We sat on extraordinary sofas upholstered with lush green pasture (yes real grass folks). Further exploration led to an internal boulevard shimmering with a thousand flickering candle lit Moroccan lanterns. This was the central play area where translucent voile curtains served to create numerous individual private spaces for those intent on diabolism or just hardcore sex… oh go on then, you've talked me into it.
The scopophiliacs* in our midst may have been thwarted by the wafting portieres shielding their stares so they consoled themselves with the abundant comfy couches in the main space to lounge and consider their next lustful move. Off to the sides were alleyways of abandonment and inlets of iniquity where lewdness, licentiousness, sinfulness and wickedness were all the order of the day. After an unspecified duration of fun and fornication (whilst trying not to crush the laminated spikes of my Dayne Henderson custom made catsuit) we strolled back to the main party.
A brief detour led us to yet another clandestine area where fetishists frolicked in front of a fire pit furnace shaped like a giant red mouth, reminiscent of the scene from Videodrome where Debbie Harry's lips fill the screen as she murmurs "Come to me…"
Most parties, even the very best ones, usually revolve around a venue procured exclusively for club nights. The beauty of SubRosaDictum is that each party is built from scratch around a locale which does not normally host club nights let alone those charged with such dynamic debauchery.
In fact, in most cases (the exception being the Kesselhaus Munich) the owners of the selected venue prefer to disassociate themselves from any affiliation with fetish or BDSM. This gives SubRosaDictum exclusivity to run parties in locations which usually refuse to entertain fetish events. All this intrigue serves to ensure the pervilicious patrons and punters feel like they belong to an elite coterie ready to be enraptured and enthralled when they cross the threshold of this enigmatic haunt.
SpikeyO
*those who need to openly observe nudity and sex acts, while voyeurs are more about being secret
In fact, in most cases (the exception being the Kesselhaus Munich) the owners of the selected venue prefer to disassociate themselves from any affiliation with fetish or BDSM. This gives SubRosaDictum exclusivity to run parties in locations which usually refuse to entertain fetish events. All this intrigue serves to ensure the pervilicious patrons and punters feel like they belong to an elite coterie ready to be enraptured and enthralled when they cross the threshold of this enigmatic haunt.
SpikeyO
*those who need to openly observe nudity and sex acts, while voyeurs are more about being secret
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