Do You Believe in Life After Lunchbox Candy?
- Mar 25
- 4 min read
Updated: Mar 26
Sometimes a party ends.
Not with a final track, but with an email.
After four years of shaping one of Berlin’s most beloved queer dance floors, Lunchbox Candy suddenly came to an end, leaving behind a community, a language and a feeling that couldn’t simply disappear overnight.
For Adam Munnings, one of the creative forces behind the project, the moment was both surreal and deeply emotional.
“Lunchbox Candy meant so much to so many people,” he says. “It wasn’t just a party. It was a place of belonging, a sacred meeting spot for the freaks and an artistic social experiment with no limits.”
Shortly after the final event in November last year, Munnings received an email that closely resembled the public statement that would later appear online announcing that Lunchbox Candy would not continue.
“I wasn’t involved in that decision-making process,” he says. “So experiencing it in that way was definitely painful.”
What followed was not a clean break, but something more complicated. A pause. A shift. And the question that hung in the air for months across Berlin’s queer nightlife scene.
What happens now?
For Munnings, the answer slowly began to take shape.
“I felt a huge responsibility to the community,” he explains. “So many people had poured themselves into that project. DJs, performers, artists, the dancers on the floor. When something like that ends, it leaves a lot of energy behind. The question became what to do with it.”
Enter tracey.
“I would say it’s a reaction,” Munnings says.
“tracey is a revolution. An evolution, if you will.”
"Queerness can’t be owned, periodt!"
Built by many of the same artists, performers and collaborators who helped shape the previous era, tracey isn’t presented as a replacement but as something new that grew out of the same creative ecosystem.
“A framework ended,” he says. “But spirit can’t be owned. Creativity can’t be owned. Queerness can’t be owned, periodt!”
If you’ve ever been to a party built by Munnings and his extended creative family, you already know the energy.
Nothing is accidental.
Every corner of the space carries intention. Sexuality seeps through every crevice of the club.
The experience is immersive, visceral, sometimes chaotic, sometimes tender.
"A little more grown-up, but still servicing the inner child"
For many dancers, those nights were transformative.
And from the look of tracey’s launch, that spirit hasn’t gone anywhere.
“A little more grown-up,” Munnings says. “But still servicing the inner child.” “You know we’re coming in hot and there will only ever be one tracey debut so you gotta be there to believe it!”
A party with memory
tracey carries the DNA of what came before, but it also reflects lessons learned.
“This moment gave us an opportunity to go back to the drawing board,” he explains. “To rethink structure, communication and how we build something together.”
Behind the scenes, that means clearer frameworks, stronger foundations and a more intentional approach to collaboration.
But on the dance floor, the goal remains the same.
Celebration.
“The biggest lesson from the past four years is trusting your gut,” Munnings says. “Doing something that feels authentic. Sometimes that means just f-cking sh-t up a little.”
Who is tracey?
If tracey were a person, Munnings already knows her personality.
“She’s spiritually grounded and chaotically cunty.”
tracey’s “birthday” lands symbolically on Easter Sunday, something Munnings laughs about when the symbolism of rebirth is mentioned.
“She shows up. She shakes her booty. She takes up space without apology. But she’s also the one sitting outside at 10am having the deep conversations when you need it.”
And if tracey walked into the club?
“You never know what you’re going to get,” he says.
“Maybe a cunty little skirt. Maybe a clown. Maybe a punk. Maybe a monster. Maybe nothing at all.”
But one thing is certain.
“She wears the look. The look never wears her."
"tracey is spiritually grounded and chaotically cunty"
The first night
tracey’s debut promises a dense sensory experience.
Three floors of music.
Performers and hosts drawn from Berlin’s queer nightlife ecosystem.
Cruising spaces, ambient zones and moments designed for rest as well as chaos.
“Honestly, I’ll probably have tears streaming down my face all night.”
DJ Petite has curated a music lineup filled with queer icons and rising stars. Nancy Nutter has assembled an ensemble of hosts and performers who have helped shape the city’s nightlife culture for years.
“It’s going to be a sensory, delicious night of sexuality, passion, dance and celebration,” Munnings says.
For him, the emotional weight of the launch is impossible to ignore.
“Honestly, I’ll probably have tears streaming down my face all night.”
More than a party
At its core, tracey continues the ethos that defined the nights before it. A belief that nightlife is participatory culture, not just entertainment.
“Nightlife isn’t something you consume”, Munnings says.
“It’s something you co-create.”
Losing your mind on the dance floor, falling in love, exploring sexuality or simply turning a sickening look
That means dancers, performers, DJs, hosts and guests all shaping the energy together.
Which leads to the final question.
Should people come for the music, the chaos or the possibility of falling in love at 4am?
Munnings smiles.
“They should come for themselves.”
Whether that means losing your mind on the dance floor, falling in love, exploring sexuality or simply turning a sickening look.
“Whatever works for you works for tracey.”
Photos from BTS of GAGGY musical set for tracey – shot by Claudia Hampton
