Chloe Philips, the producer behind Chlomosexual Presents, earned that title when they came out just three years ago and threw themself a coming out party. Previously in tech sales, Philips’ self discovery wasn’t just about their queerness but their love for producing, too, which you could argue often go hand-in-hand, at least in Brooklyn.
Philips is also the Head of Sales and Partnerships at queer-owned cannabis company Flamer and last year was tasked with producing a party at Brooklyn’s 3 Dollar Bill (as in, as queer as one). New to both the queer scene and event producing, Philips didn’t know many queer DJs. They had a specific vision to book a queer femme DJ. Enter: Von, a musician, performance artist, and, indeed, femme DJ.
After concocting a last-minute Brat rave together, Philips and Von became coconspirators in immersive, experimental raves, and the next event opportunity to collaborate would be Halloween. The inaugural DEAD2ME took place in 2024 at Terminal 5 — an ambitious debut into Halloween event production for the pair — which proved to be a success with 3,000 attendees. But they saw an opportunity to improve the event by bringing it to Bushwick, where they could make it even gayer, bringing in For Them to collaborate to that end.
The specific venue in Bushwick? Xanadu Roller Arts off the Jefferson L, a retro roller rink named after the 1980 musical fantasy film starring Olivia Newton-John and Gene Kelly. When Xanadu first opened in June 2024, it became the hotspot for adult birthday parties in a let’s drink Long Island Iced Teas at Dave & Buster’s kind of way. Anything but a non-reservable cash-only dive bar.
The 7,000 square-foot roller rink isn’t the typical choice for a rave, but absolutely nothing about DEAD2ME is typical. As soon as I walk in, I’m greeted by a femme sparsely wrapped in mummy gauze holding a metal tray with 3 dildo-shaped sex toys standing at attention, surrounded by lube packets and condoms.
I graciously decline the party favors and turn the corner to find myself beside a chain-link cage match with even more half-naked queer people performing a choreographed fight sequence. People gather around watching in awe, while others direct their attention to the DJ booth placed right smack in the middle of the roller rink, facing an elevated stage with a stripper pole. In front of the stage are deconstructed cars (think: Titane), which serve as additional elevated platforms for the performance artists.
I make my way around the curve of the rink and end up entranced The Ring-style by an installation of box TVs situated between two Harley Davidson motorcycles. Do I know what it means? No. Does it look really cool? Yes. Continuing my way around the rink, I’m met with a tattoo station where folks can sign up via mobile Google Form to get “branded” with Von’s logomark.
I figure the tour ends there. After all, there’s performance fighting, DJing, pole dancing, multiple vehicles, both two- and four-wheeled, and a pile of televisions. But I’m wrong, duped even, because there’s an entire other venue inside this one.
Club Flush is Xanadu’s large bathroom with a 70-person capacity and designated DJ. At one point, later in the evening, I’m in a line outside Club Flush when someone approaches me from behind to ask: “Are you in line for a stall or for the DJ?” I was, in fact, waiting for a stall, but just at the other end of this long, fluorescent pink stretch of sinks are none other than one of my favorite t4t indie rock bands Um, Jennifer? on the decks. It’s a rave-ception.
Back at the rink dance floor, the main-stage performance art is in full swing. You’re not allowed to stop dancing there. This is where Von really gets to freak it, which also happens to be Philips’ favorite part of their collaboration, even though they don’t know what’s up her sleeve until showtime. In preparation for the event, Von runs around in the venue with her Bloody Mary crew to see what physically can be done in the space, and then in her apartment throwing things at the wall, figuratively.
The performance narrative, as she calls it, starts as soon as you arrive. “How many different ways can I have someone walk through a door?”
One specific performance that stood out to me was artist Sexorcist chained atop a wooden cross, styled in custom chainmail, freeing herself from her shackles using an electric circle saw and sending sparks into the crowd while a million other things were going on around them. Another was artist Mars Hobrecker, who threaded needles through the crown of his forehead until he dripped blood down his face on stage. Artists Bunny and Dylan performed a Titane sex scene atop the deconstructed car installations.
In a city where most events, even the queer ones, cost an entry fee with little to nothing in return, it stands out when two young queer people offer something different. More than that, they’re employing lots of queer and trans people, collaborating with small businesses, and paying sex workers.
Von and Philips sell an experience. On Halloween, they sold sex and violence and experiment. Two thousand people bought tickets based on vibes alone. After all, Von and Philips say the rave is “never explained, only experienced.”
Whether people came to be horny or see a show or dance with their friends — or all three — they got what they wanted. I know I did.
