(PICTURED Camille Sojit Pejcha)
It would be an understatement to say that my prior exposure to bathhouses is limited: a couple of episodes of The Sopranos, some PG history lessons on ancient Rome, and some less PG stories from a gay friend about the West Village Equinox steam room. But even then, I shouldn’t have been surprised by the naturalness of the space. Transitioning from the social hubs of ancient Rome to shady New York mob deals, then to queer cruising, and now to an experimental literary salon feels like the most natural evolution—a culmination of a bathhouse's history and a reinvention of its taboos.
A place of great vulnerability but, at the same time, incredibly tranquil and ultimately human, the theme of the night could not have been more fitting for the setting. “Desire drives everything" Camille went on, "from what we want in bed to how we see ourselves, the clothes we buy, and the people we spend time with. It’s a cultural force in and of itself, and we should take it seriously—but not too seriously.”
Intermixed between tie dyed speedos and wet hair, was a night of boozing, smooshing, steaming, icing, swimming, laughing, and crying. I send my sincerest apologies to the 300 people on the waitlist—it was an unforgettable evening that can’t be captured in words, the best Tuesday night I've had in New York City, and without a doubt the hardest thing I've had to describe to the office the next morning.