When I get on the tube in Elephant & Castle on Saturday night, two heavily made-up cybergoths immediately draw stares from other passengers. But by the time we cross the river and exit at Angel, home to the sprawling club Electrowerkz, pretty much anything else would look out of place. At each crossing there are huddles of people sporting black capes and chunky boots waiting patiently for the lights to turn green. A little further round the corner, a long queue of people dressed in corsets, chains and leather has formed; punters touch up their makeup and adjust their ox horns in the reflection of their iPhones. We’re all here for Slimelight, the legacy goth night which has taken place at the north London club for four decades. Tonight is the first party of Slimelight’s flagship Halloween series – the biggest event in the calendar – but to everyone here, this is more than just a seasonal costume; it’s a lifestyle.
Slimelight prides itself on being the oldest goth night of its kind. It started back in 1987 when Electrowerkz was just a squatted warehouse with no electricity and no doors. Taking place every Saturday night, it became a base for goths and outsiders whose appearance meant they weren’t let in elsewhere: BYOB, £3 entry. 37 years on, things look a little different: Electrowerkz, now fully licensed, is one of the biggest venues in central London, with water-tight security; Slimelight tickets are £20 (£10 for members) and garish neon signs promoting deals on cans of Red Bull adorn the walls. With the exception of the Halloween season, Slimelight now takes place every six weeks. But its cult following remains strong. Many people here have been coming since those early days; others travel from overseas each month just for the party.
“There are a few other goth parties in London but Slimelight is the mothership,” says MiHa, the ultra-glam door host, smiling. He’s rocking a long, black wig which reaches down to a spike-studded corset, and a huge monochrome fur coat – all homemade, he says proudly. Of the 900 or so guests he welcomes over the course of tonight, many are regulars due to the long-standing membership system. “We are a huge fucking family!” he says, tucking his hair behind his ears. “I think when you’re a goth you’re a goth forever.”
Tonight, the goth spectrum is wide. You’ve got your trad goths, with angular XXL hair and all-black outfits (some wear latex, others wear 80s band merch). Then there’s the cybergoths, wearing cyberlox, peering through goggles and brandishing glow sticks (My friends and I spend a good while discussing whether cyberlox, like white dreads, constitute cultural appropriation. Jury’s out.) High-concept influencers wearing little clothing but lots of makeup are scattered among the crowd too – you’ll spot them by their novelty contact lenses. There’s also plenty of fetishwear, from harnesses to animal tails.
Dressing up and being seen is a big part of the Slimelight experience. The bathroom mirrors are crowded with partygoers hairspraying, backcombing and scrubbing black lipstick off their teeth. Throughout the warehouse, the corridors and stairwells become grungy backdrops for impromptu photo shoots (we count something like five club photographers across the night). The pageantry is impressive, which makes it all the more uncanny when the fourth wall breaks down, and you see a harlequin downing a Jägerbomb, or a full-body-tattooed skeleton taps you on the shoulder to ask for eye drops. By 2am, my friend says the courtyard begins to look a little like a scene from What We Do in the Shadows. Actually, that instinct was kind of spot-on: later one punter tells me he’s from the London Vampire Group, though when he tries to show me his custom-made fangs, our conversation is cut short by his increasingly uncooperative gurn.
The age range at Slimelight is just as vast as the sartorial subcategories: 20-something scene kids dance side by side with old school goths. “Gay or straight, 20 or 60, people can come here and no one will judge them,” says a straight-faced older guy in the corner of the greenroom. When I ask his age he seals his lips, but he does confirm that he was at the first ever event.
“Before it was very old school goth. I brought in more of the younger crowd,” says Ricardo Castro, the camp and extremely charming organiser of tonight’s party, who took over Slimelight in 2022 after co-founder Mayuan Mak died. Aged 47 and dressed in an all-PVC military outfit and blacked-out sunglasses, Castro is something of a kingpin here; mid-conversation, we’re interrupted by regulars wanting to ask if he likes their outfit or kiss him goodbye. “I brought the fashion, I brought this new blood of people,” he tells me, smiling. “I encourage people to dress up, and for people who dress up to come here and feel safe knowing they can wear whatever they want. Everyone is super welcome.”
Another of the changes Castro takes credit for is the programming. Now there’s three floors, each devoted to the different eras and subcultures associated with what he refers to as “the dark scene.” The ground floor honours Slimelight’s foundations, with classic 80s goth, synth pop and, towards the end of the night, EBM and industrial, including classics from the Neon Judgement and Nitzer Ebb (who performed here in 2006). The ground floor recalls that club scene in Robocop, but upstairs is a little more Tomorrowland, hard trance and big-room techno punctured by doom metal growls. Here the crowd is a little younger and a lot more glow-in-the-dark; one guy two-steps with a plastic crow in hand. There’s also now live performances, including a strip tease to Depeche Mode’s “Personal Jesus” by a latex-clad nun and, at 3am, a blood ritual. Much to the delight of the photographers crowded round the front, the ritual turns out to be a blood-soaked make out session.
Although a few people mourn the old days of Slimelight, they still consider it home. One guy, now 51, has driven up from High Wycombe tonight just like he did in the 90s. In Castro’s eyes, things are only getting better: “We’ve still kept what we had before, so now we’re like the past, present and the future of the dark scene.”
As I make my way home at 5am, I ponder what the future of the dark scene may look like. I decide that only time will tell — hardly a problem, I guess, for all the vampires in attendance.
Text: Safi Bugel
Photography: Tom Porter
