Behind the Velvet Curtain: Inside The Sublime Society
- 20 hours ago
- 8 min read
The Sublime Society exists in the space between looking and being seen. A place where performance becomes encounter, and where intimacy is something to be explored rather than consumed—slower, more intentional, and just close enough to feel slightly dangerous.
What began as a spontaneous idea has evolved into something far more layered—an ongoing exploration of connection, sensation, and self-expression, shaped as much by its audience as its artists. It was founded almost by accident (and somewhere mid-flight between Los Angeles and London), the part cabaret, part erotic salon, has grown into a multi-city platform for artists working with desire and self-expression.
We spoke to founder, Charlie Bouquett, about creating a world where “attention doesn’t equal obligation,” and where the audience is invited in—but never in control.
The Sublime Society is, at its heart, an invitation into the world of kink and exploration for anyone who is curious and open to new experiences in a relaxed and romantic environment
What did founding The Sublime Society come from and look like?
It actually began by a happy accident. Early in 2024, the shibari artist Marie Sauvage reached out to me personally to ask if I’d like to produce their next show in London. At the time, I was in LA performing for Torture Garden when I received the message and I instantly knew this was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. It meant collaborating with an artist I had admired for so long.
Attention doesn’t equal obligation
The only catch was that I didn’t yet have a brand or an established company of my own, as I’d been working as a Creative Producer for another company. So somewhere between boarding my flight from Los Angeles to London, The Sublime Society was born (quite literally in the clouds) as I began dreaming up the concept for my inaugural event, Spring Awakening, which featured Marie Sauvage and Parisian model Cléa de Velours.
What did you see missing in London that made you start it?
To me, London felt like a shell of its former self post-COVID. The few events that managed to survive often felt repetitive and uninspired, lacking the sense of creativity and risk that once defined the scene.
What stood out to me even more was that many of these events were still predominantly produced by men. As a burlesque and fetish artist of 16 years, that’s something I’ve long found limiting and, at times, out of step with the kind of progressive, self-directed expression that erotic cabaret should embody. There’s something inherently uncomfortable about older male producers dictating how women should present their bodies on stage and unfortunately, it’s a pattern that still persists in parts of London’s scene today.
Of course, there are exceptions, particularly within some of the newer kink-focused events, but overall I felt there was space and a real need for something more intentional, more artist-led, and more reflective of the performers themselves.
It’s an invitation
How has the concept evolved from the start until today? And what are the 3 foundational pillars, would you say?
For something that was never planned from the outset, I’ve intentionally allowed it to evolve organically. What began as a spontaneous idea has grown into something far more expansive, after a run of sold-out shows in London, the launch of Berlin and Paris, and now Switzerland on the horizon, it’s clear the concept has taken on a life of its own.
At its core, though, the evolution has remained true to its spirit. If I had to define the three foundational pillars of The Sublime Society, they would be the “three E’s”: explore, express, engage.
Explore—pushing boundaries and discovering new forms of artistic and sensual expression.
Express—creating space for performers to present themselves authentically, on their own terms.
Engage—fostering a connection between artist and audience that feels intimate, immersive, and alive.
Adreena Angela & Miriam Veil shot by Pauline Di Silvesto
You call it a “multi-dimensional exploration of intimacy”—what does that mean in practice?
What I mean by that is it’s more than just a show. It’s an invitation. Guests are encouraged to engage with the artists, should the artists choose to open that door. Our events blend immersive and interactive performance, creating moments where the audience becomes part of the experience.
The work is not for the audience, it’s for themselves
At times, this might mean being invited into a moment, assisting an artist as they undress, sharing a sensory experience like tasting something from their hand, or something as intimate as champagne offered from their lips. It’s about creating encounters that feel personal, unexpected, and alive.
For our Berlin launch, we are curating an interactive, multi sensory dessert experience for our guests and artists to indulge in.
The experience doesn’t end when the show does. We actively encourage connection between guests as well. I have also designed a series of intimacy cards and games to spark curiosity and ignite imagination, giving people a way to engage beyond small talk. We also have rope practitioners and BDSM facilitators present, creating a safe and considered environment for those who feel curious to explore.
We’re not exclusively a play party. It’s more about opening a door and offering a taste of something different, so people leave feeling inspired, whether that means trying something new or simply reconnecting with their own sense of pleasure and expression.
You’re dealing with desire, attention, power dynamics—how conscious are you of that when curating performances?
Incredibly conscious. It’s at the core of how I curate and direct performances. When I perform, or when I guide other performers, I always emphasise that “the work is not for the audience, it’s for themselves.” The audience are simply voyeurs, observers, almost like flies on the wall.
“The power sits entirely with the performer.” Their desire may be to be seen, to be witnessed, but never to cater to the audience’s expectations or projections. It’s about reclaiming that space, where attention doesn’t equal obligation, and where the performer remains fully in control of how they are experienced.
It takes away opportunities from real professionals, the ones who are actually trained to play safely, consensually, and consciously
Is it important for you to include sex workers as performers and experts in their fields?
Absolutely. I have been a professional dominatrix myself for over 10 years, and in recent years I’ve seen a surge in popularity around this “domme-style” persona, where suddenly many people felt they had what it takes to be a dominatrix or engage in findom from behind the comfort of a keyboard.
I started seeing go-go dancers booked into shows with non-consensual audience interaction who couldn’t even hold a whip the right way up, or tell latex apart from PVC (which deserves the death penalty sentence in my opinion).
While at times it could be amusing, I also found it quite upsetting, because it takes away opportunities from real professionals, the ones who are actually trained to play safely, consensually, and consciously.
For me, it’s essential to prioritise sex workers in my shows. They bring lived experience, technical skill, and a deep understanding of consent, power, and safety that cannot be replicated superficially by just dressing the part.
We are so lucky to already have a rotating cast of world-renowned dominatrices, including Adreena Angela in London and Miss May, who will be joining us for our Berlin launch with her submissive on the 13th of May.
You may notice an absence of men on stage
What’s something you’ve deliberately chosen not to include, even though it might seem obvious for a concept like this?
Our production is a FLINTA-led production, and we only work with predominantly FLINTA and queer artists in our shows. Because of that, you may notice an absence of men on stage. We do, however, occasionally use them in supporting roles or as “furniture” and for service elements throughout the evening. But the showcase itself is a celebration of queer and femme expression, with a particular focus on highlighting queer femme artists.
Something else I’ve deliberately chosen to regulate quite strictly is traditional burlesque presentation (I almost feel like a traitor saying it since I am a burlesque dancer), but in my shows I don’t encourage performance that is driven by audience applause or validation. Instead, I encourage artists to perform for themselves and to allow the audience to peek into their world, rather than perform at them.
It’s about returning to something more fundamental, before the kink clubs and erotic parties, when desire felt a little more innocent and unconstructed
Striptease does feature in our work, but it’s reframed. It isn’t about stripping for approval or reaction, it’s about personal expression and pleasure. The audience are observers in that space, more like voyeurs witnessing something intimate unfold, rather than the reason for it existing.
Berlin, especially, seems to have “seen it all”—how do you bring something new without competing with what’s already here?
Berlin really does have it all. But as someone who feels like they’ve also experienced a lot of it, I think there’s an art in slowing down and finding pleasure in the most understated sensations. For me, it’s about returning to something more fundamental, before the kink clubs and erotic parties, when desire felt a little more innocent and unconstructed.
I can find something as simple as running my fingers through a bundle of flowers, feeling their texture and inhaling their scent, to be just as erotically charged as being at the centre of an orgy.
That’s something I try to encourage in others as well: to stop constantly seeking what’s next, and instead take pleasure in what is already present.
The biggest misconception is that it’s a sex party
Do guests tend to stay in observer mode, or do they get involved?
After the showcase part of the evening, guests are encouraged to stay, relax, and lounge on our carpets and pillows, and engage with rope play if they feel drawn to it. We always have a few shibari professionals present in the space to facilitate and guide rope exploration after the show, although it is entirely optional.
Many guests do choose to take part, often feeling inspired by the rope installation within the performance itself. I really enjoy introducing people to things they may not have explored before in a safe and supported way.
The Sublime Society is, at its heart, an invitation into the world of kink and exploration for anyone who is curious and open to new experiences in a relaxed and romantic environment.
What’s the biggest misconception people have before they walk in?
The biggest misconception is that it’s a sex party. While there are certainly erotic and kink performances throughout the evening, and a sense of play is encouraged, we are not hosting sex parties… (yet!).
That said, it’s not something I rule out for the future. But for now, my focus is on curating something softer and more romantic for our FLINTA audience.
Has building The Sublime Society changed your own relationship to intimacy?
Yes, it has made me much more intentional with what I do, and in that I’ve found a real sense of power. Slowing down, holding space, and understanding the weight of presence has completely shifted my relationship to intimacy.
The Sublime Society has allowed me to share deeply intimate experiences with people from all over the world who come to our events. Sometimes that’s through them opening up to me about vulnerabilities or personal experiences, and sometimes it’s in more tangible, shared moments—like helping someone tie their partner for the first time after a show.
It has given me access to so many cherished, beautiful exchanges with our audience that most hosts wouldn’t experience unless they truly take the time to sit with people beyond the performance itself. I love the society I’ve built, and the kind of connection it continues to create.
