Berghain: An Attempt
Challenging one the most exclusive nightclubs in the world.
Berghain.
Equal parts myth and institution, its notorious yet obscure door policy cemented its status as one of the most exclusive nightclubs in the world. Hopefuls queue for hours to face the selector at the door — most famously, Sven Marquardt — who reportedly turns away anywhere from half to 80% of those in line.
I first learned about Berghain from the podcast Search Engine in 2024. Two episodes followed the misadventures of two Americans rejected at the door — twice — alongside deep dives into Berlin techno and theories about club rejection.
“Huh, interesting.” I thought. But with Germany half a world away, I forgot about it.
After participating in ETHGlobal Prague, I improvised a four-day detour to Berlin with no particular agenda in mind. When I arrived, I recalled the podcast episodes and became inexplicably fixated on the idea of trying to breach the walls myself — a singular mission that soon defined the trip.
June 5th. Thursday, scouting day.
Berghain was an hour walk from my hostel. Once an East Berlin power plant, now a cathedral of bass, Berghain is industrial both in origin and attitude. An imposing piece of architecture three floors in height that used to generate electrical energy, repurposed into the home base of Berlin techno and uninhibited hedonism.
According to online sources, entry hinges strictly on your vibes. The definition of a ‘club’, after all, implies belonging to a particular community. It is rumored that the selectors at the door screen for signs of belonging, making sure outsiders won’t undermine the freedom and self expression of the people already admitted. In other words, are you a participant, or an observer? Do you seem to understand — and enjoy — techno culture?
Unfortunately, it is difficult to become a techno aficionado on a whim. The German language likewise requires hours of practice.
The comparatively easier form of preparation, therefore, is dressing for the occasion. It is time to get some clothes.
Berghain dress code is one that is deliberately curated. Pinterest and TikTok suggests the ideal Berghain outfit is a paradox: look edgy but not flashy, alternative but not costumed, expressive but mostly black, cool but not like you’re trying.
With origins in hardcore techno and fetish parties, Berghain inspires a certain look, so I went to a specialty shop in Schöneberg to try on mesh tank tops, leatherwear, and harnesses. Discouraged by prices of leather suits, I settled on a simpler latex rubber shirt and similarly textured athletic shorts.
June 6th. Friday, judgment day.
An hour-long pilgrimage brought me to Berghain’s gates: a brutalist slab of stone and steel already surrounded by the faithful. The existing line wrapped around the side of the building, past the front, and snaked down the gravel sidewalk. I inserted myself to the end of the queue. More people were coming and the line behind me grew fast.
I felt like a traveler lining up for inspection at the city gates in a fantasy world — either be welcomed to the safe walls of the kingdom, or be cast out to face the perils of the cold night. To calm my nerves, I nibbled on a pretzel I bought from a nearby Aldi supermarket.
Before the entrance, everyone puts on two huge stickers on their phone, covering both the front and back camera lenses. Berghain maintains a strict no-photo policy, which protects the privacy of all who venture into the depths of its techno dungeons, and also contributes to its lack of an online presence in photos. My bag was checked for weapons, drugs, and other illegal objects, and then I was waved in.
Weird. That seemed too easy.
Little did I know then the main event of Berghain, Klubnacht (club night), runs without intermission from Saturday evening well into Monday morning. It is said people stayed for 12 hours, 24 hours, or even 36 hours without leaving the venue.
But Friday evening? Closed.
You heard right. Berghain isn’t even open on Friday. That’s it. An anticlimactic end to the sad story for an earnest traveler who failed to confirm the business hours.
But wait. What was the line I had queued for?
And then I realized where I actually was.
That’s the second part to this story: how I unassumingly stumbled into Lab.oratory, or just Lab for short, a venue known for pushing boundaries, and often described as the biggest sex club in Berlin. In retrospect, I should have noticed the signs. In particular, I think my anxiety about being in line blinded me to the obvious fact that the entire line thoroughly lacks female representation.
So, I found myself in the Lab, which takes places on the basement level of the same venue as Berghain. It turns out that the first Friday of every month is an event called Lab.Dance, where DJs blast music under a strobe light while shadows writhe on the floor. Techno was still on the menu — just served in a setting where clothing was more optional than functional.
At first I found myself simply existing in a blur of sensual overload until, inevitably, surrendering to the repeating booms of rhythmic techno. The space unfolds around me.
What happens in the Lab stays in the Lab — I won’t be going into too much detail here. Hours later, the space reeks of sweat, smoke, alcohol, and urine. The ground feels both sticky and slippery, from what, I elect not to know.
To my own surprise though, I felt safe — safer than I had any right to be as a solo traveler in a space where adults let their animalistic instincts take over. People were respectful of boundaries and understood nonverbal consent. Where Berghain engages its guests in a shared musical rite with permissive indulgence, Lab.Dance reverses the dynamic — techno remains present, but as background to explicit corporeality.
Unprepared as I was, I’m still glad I got to experience it. Though hopefully if there were to be a next time, I’d be armed with more context, confidence, maybe even company.
By the way, I returned Saturday, scouted the actual Berghain line, and snapped a few discreet photos. Next time, I’ll be dressed right, queued right, and maybe even let in. Berlin, I’m not done with you yet.
Good story! “ What happens in the Lab stays in the Lab” This does intrigue me!!haha