Feeling Fruity

So there I was sharing the Wild Fruit love on Facebook when it dawned on me what Sunday’s event was all about. Not my Vampire costume or Queen Jo’s impending dog collar drama’s. Nope. It’s about a birthday. Wild Fruit’s 18th Birthday. Eighteen glorious years. Camp yet credible, stylish yet fun, Wild Fruit has been part of my clubbing life for 18 years. OMFG! That’s a lot of parties, a lot of outfits, a lot of hands in the air and lot of “what the fuck is that amazing tune?’

Learning it’s all about house music courtesy of Dave, Pete, Craig and Andy and meeting Duffie and deciding he’s the dearest. Loving the swearbox that is a decor delivering Sean and the eye popping delight that is Dolly Rocket. The urban’s unable to eat cake at the Madhatters Tea Party, me playing old skool with Mr Jones or debuting on the main room one Xmas and bloody loving it. Eating pop and kinda liking it courtesy of the ladies that are Bex, Tim and Dusty and getting the r’n’b cos Jeffery and Freddie make it so. The guest DJ’s who have been anything but diva’s as they gain respect and mates thanx to their attitude free sessions in the Fruity box. Vic running the night just so, aided and abetted by the sweeties on the door. Gary and Chrissy delivering more cheek than is decent, Chris standing fast and cool no matter what the weather and pap-tastic Sam catching that moment you rather not see published in the morning.

Residents debuting in the main room and confirming their quality status and that walk of wobble to the seafront as you hunt out the Rebel. Packed in and grinning at Pride, feeling the Fruity family love at Xmas. Those PA’s, those diva’s, those catwalk shows. Dolly getting Physical and putting Newton John to shame, fireworks and sparks on the stage and snow on your head as Boxing Day night draws to a close. That tent- yes that tent – and Mr Kemp and his enduring energy and attention to detail that makes it all possible. (Someone buy the boy some bubbly!) And those outfits. Oh those outfits. Be they Red, ridiculous or rude.

Brighton wouldn’t be the same without Wild Fruit. Past or present each Fruit is an event. A memory waiting to be made, a moment to log and love. Every beat, every clubber, every DJ, every Fruity one. Wild Fruit. The only one of my five a day I couldn’t do without.