For the past decade, underground nightlife in Cape Town has been shaped by pioneering queer tastemakers and collectives largely responsible for the current direction of the city’s counterculture. The indisputable epicentre of this scene is the infamous, iconic nightclub EVOL. Ever since The Death Of Glitter reclaimed the venue from trendy (cis white) hipsters, 69 Hope Street has birthed events like Reverence and Chaos!, establishing itself as the de facto base camp for the city’s queer subculture. Joining this lineage is Bathhouse.
Since launching in March last year, the party has amassed a fevered following of new-gen queerdos and club kids, hitting exactly the right niche for this audience. Like the most influential parties before it, Bathhouse is a response to the current state of the scene — taking what works and challenging what doesn’t by rethinking how nightlife itself can operate. The collective positions itself less as a conventional party brand and more as a queer-led cultural platform rooted in community care, accessibility, collaboration, and harm reduction (check out their manifesto here).
Following a hiatus and rebrand, Bathhouse expanded beyond the dance floor into workshops, screenings, and interdisciplinary creative projects, reframing nightlife as both a social and political space. In a radical departure from the for-profit model standard across Cape Town nightlife, Bathhouse flips that practice arse-up, functioning as a shared entity built around collective contribution and long-term sustainability.
That ethos set the tone for the collective’s much anticipated return to the dance floor last Saturday night.
While the first editions of Bathhouse leaned into scuzzy, hedonistic energy, this one’s curation felt more considered. There was little excess. From the minimalist staging — featuring a perspex shower where the DJs played — to a pole dancing stage bathed in glowing fuchsia in the corner of EVOL’s usually limboesque foyer, everything felt intentional and refined. EVOL’s interior remained barebones, with strategic lighting transforming the venue into a wonderland of electric blue and cherry red.
The precision of the party’s design extended to the crowd too. By selling tickets exclusively at the door, Bathhouse was able to curate its audience, ensuring everyone on the dance floor knew exactly why they were there. It was a refreshingly diverse mix of EVOL furniture (me — sigh), curious music heads, and beautiful young femme queers who came to serve. I’m delighted to say there was a good amount of melanin in the room, too.
Entering the party, however, was not the smoothest experience. Queues stretched up Hope Street as crowds were let in 10 to 20 people at a time. Attendees received a briefing on the rules and regulations of the space before entering, shouted from the EVOL staircase by a seriously badass volunteer. Total icon. While the strategy makes sense in theory, in practice it was less effective. Many people either couldn’t hear what was being said or simply stopped paying attention, growing frustrated by the slow progress at the door. Once inside though, the whole saga felt worth it.
I haven’t seen EVOL buzz like that in a long time. Sure, over the past few months I’ve attended some genuinely incredible parties there, but the crowd at Bathhouse felt unified in a way that has, unfortunately, become rare. People arrived with (good) intention, and it showed. The crowd was respectful of each other’s space and, for the most part, pretty well behaved. Sure, okay – we got wrecked. But we didn’t get messy. It was fabulously fun, liberating to be silly and feel safe doing it.
Nowhere was this feeling stronger than on the dance floor. Bathhouse deserves serious credit for managing a floor that felt synchronous, aware, and absolutely full of joy. Phones were rarely visible and bodies moved together consciously. People came to dance, and Bathhouse delivered top-tier music. Selections ranged from techno to electroclash, bounce, and a barrage of booty-shaking bass. This was sophisticated listening. Not the most accessible for casual listeners, but it wasn’t meant for them. This was music for heads and disciples of dance, who kept the floor heaving until its inevitable 04:00 close.
Deylin Universe, in a rare opening slot, set the tone with a bass-heavy selection that reworked heady techno classics into buoyant, booty-shaking bangers. A standout moment came toward the end of his set. The undeniable euphoria of “Born Slippy” locked the crowd in instantly, but rather than dropping into the original’s quickened techno pulse, the track slipped into the bouncy bloghouse chaos of the Enzo Is Burning edit, setting the floor on fire. Ale, the greenest on the lineup, delivered a confident and thoughtful set that picked up exactly where Deylin left off, carrying the energy further with propulsive, percussion-forward selections studded with swarthy guaracha and rhythmic dembow gems.
But this night belonged to Hypoestes. Mandy Alexander is an astounding talent who remains far too underrated, and it’s been exhilarating watching her break onto more lineups and finally receive the flowers she deserves. A thorough student of dance music, her near encyclopaedic knowledge and sharp technical skills make her a formidable force behind the decks.
Alexander’s extended three-hour set was impeccably curated and stunningly realised. Alexander crafted the sort of sonic journey rarely seen in Cape Town. The extended duration gave her space to properly feel the room and take control of it, carrying us on a wave that began with groove-focused house before crescendoing into a dizzying blend of bass, breaks, and gqom. The moment she dropped “Superstylin’”, it was obvious that we were witnessing one of the best sets the EVOL floor has seen in years. Truly world-class DJing.
The Bathhouse team worked like a well-oiled machine to keep the night running seamlessly, and there’s little to fault about the execution itself. Improvements could definitely be made to the door and access control. Perhaps a second entry point through Stags Head for guest list, crew, and artists to avoid bottlenecking EVOL’s obnoxiously narrow hallway, or a revised briefing strategy that doesn’t leave people queuing outside on a street that has, unfortunately, become a hotspot for criminal activity. Still, their numbers were exceptionally controlled, with capacity always peaking without ever feeling overcrowded.
While it was an absolute pleasure experiencing a party this meticulous, I couldn’t help but feel that a certain element of chaos was missing from the night. Not chaos in the sense of disarray, but rather that feral, thrilling possibility that something radical could happen at any moment. It’s the electricity I remember surging through Bathhouse’s debut edition — the spark that established it as one of Cape Town’s favourite nightlife happenings almost instantly.
It’s important for queer dance floors to be conscious, considered social spaces, and Bathhouse is doing inspiring work in committing itself to this. But it’s equally important for queer dance floors to remain spaces of radical, subversive mayhem — spaces that dismantle order rather than establish it. I have no doubt Bathhouse will eventually strike that balance, continuing to create exactly what Cape Town’s new generation of queerdos need right now. This is a collective dedicated to the scene, with the passion and ambition necessary to make impactful change, and audacious ideas work. That’s rare, and it’s going to take them far. A new vanguard has arrived, and the city is theirs for the taking.
Photos by Erin Sweeney and Michael Claude.
