Berghain and the Berlin Special Sauce
11:15AM on a Sunday:
“Act like you don’t care. But also, don’t smile….Or look at your phone…Or talk,” warned my friend Owen as we approached the line to enter the world-famous nightclub Berghain. He had been once before and was nervous about us getting in on my first and last weekend in the city.
Normally, red flags go up when someone tells me to act like someone I am not. Don’t smile!?! Anyone who knows me understands how difficult that is. But alas, there are times, especially in a foreign city, that you have to swallow your pride and play along. Surrender to the fact that you can’t understand everything in so short a time. And as it’s not hurting anyone, just go with it.
So in line, I tried to mark my face with an equal amount of ambivalence and respect for the place I was going, all the while trying not to lose my shit.
As we approached the door, the bouncer rejected about 6 of 8 people ahead of us with no explanation, including two cute blondes who seemed to be “dressed the part” wearing all black and Adidas shoes. Brutal.
I was wearing black sneakers, a black lacey top, black short-shorts, thigh-high tights, which I put runs in on purpose as a last-touch before I got in line, and on my head a little black hat.
When we finally got to the front, the doorman asked me my age. “Twenty-eight” I replied trying to imply somehow through that simple compound word that “I know what’s up.”
He waved us in.
“Danke,” I whispered through clenched teeth as I walked by. I didn’t know at that time what I would have missed if he had said “No”, but I’m so thankful I saw this place because it was more than I could have imagined.
The layout: built in an old heating factory with several floors. It had a beautiful outdoor area, which when I was there, had its own DJs (Honey Dijon was one). It kept the old-school factory look going with its muted colors. But there were also decorations in the form of paintings, hanging lights and other machine-like installations. The bathrooms, the smoothie and sandwich bar on the very top floor, all expertly planned.
And in the main room — the Berghain floor — Oh My God, the sound! My senses have never been so enveloped.
The music sounded like it was coming from inside my brain as opposed to from speakers.
My virgin ears brutally pounded in the best way, as soon as I climbed those stairs and entered the vortex. They will never be the same. The lights flashing exactly as they would in some 90’s warehouse rave you might see on TV but better because it’s 2017. I’ve never appreciated Berlin techno so much: dark, heavy, fast with soul-crushing bass in that huge room with ceilings so high they reach heaven.
Oh and “No photos.” Output in New York claims this rule as well, but here, everyone respects it, including the club itself. You’ll be hard-pressed to find pictures of the inside of Berghain anywhere online. When you’re there you have nothing to focus on but what’s around you.
But the most important thing that Berghain gets right that no other nightclub comes even close to (certainly not any on this list or this one) is the people. I’m not sure exactly how the bouncers at Berghain decide who gets in, but they do an outstanding job of keeping out assholes.
I’ve never been to a club with so many respectful, nice people. When I mentioned I was interested in visiting Leipzig to a new a friend I met outside, I was immediately offered a place to stay. I would have never expected this at one of the most renowned clubs in the world. At most clubs I go to, the people often ruin the experience, like at Pacha in Ibiza, filled with bros there for all the wrong reasons. As a woman, often I feel like prey. But at Berghain, the bouncers have an intuition that I’m sure is wrong many times but in the end, it works out for the club.
There is no bottle service. The cover charge is only 16 euros (like $20). Having a lot of money or being a model will not help you. This is very rare for a place of this caliber. And all this is a reflection of the city it exists in.
Before I came to Berlin, it was hard for me not to think: “How is this place different from New York?”
“It’s in Germany,” was the only thing that came to mind.
On the surface, New York and Berlin are very similar. Both are huge metropolitan cities, and people say Berlin “isn’t really Germany” in the same way that New York “isn’t really the USA”. It’s its own thing, set apart by a deep history of immigration and a blending of cultures. For example, in Berlin, there are about 5 times as many places selling Turkish doner kebab and vegan food than there are selling German curry-wurst (according to my own personal estimation).
But when I went to Berghain, I had my “aha!” moment; I figured out what makes Berlin special and different from New York. Being you, expressing yourself, doing what you want to do, letting your freak flag fly — here, it’s the mainstream. It’s a principle that the city was built and developed on.
And although in New York, there is a place for everyone, no matter who you are. Being weird is still…weird. It exists primarily in pockets of the city, in the underground. Here it’s the above ground.
Berghain was not built to make a profit. And that is unthinkable in NY with its looming skyscrapers and huge financial districts. It was built for techno and to embrace the weird. There are so many ways this incredible place could siphon money from its patrons or the community but it doesn’t even consider it.
Be yourself. Be weird. Go to Berghain.