Hedonism. Indulgence. Immoderation. Such was my experience of Fluffy Festival.

The ‘Stonewall Riots’ of 1969 have paved the way for a laissez-faire attitude that resonates in the modern world of today The violent conflicts between New York Police officers and gay and transgender people forcibly resisting the police harassment remains an eternal echo of a time that once was. Indeed, the Stonewall Riots would eventually reshape the political and global attitudes towards the homosexual community. Sydney’s Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras – now one of the country’s most festive events – also traces its origins to 1978 from a protest march in commemoration of Stonewall that ended up with police arresting marchers and the Sydney Morning Herald publishing the full names of the arrested. Those resounding waves of Stonewall have circulated the entire world so that almost four decades later, the words ‘homosexual gathering’ no longer necessarily equates to persecution. In 2007, Brisbane’s Fluffy Festival proved that it was not about sexuality; nor about victimisation, accountability or exclusivity. Fluffy Festival proved to be about parity and the familiar, balanced by tolerance and acceptance among love and respect for your fellow man and woman.

On a cool Sunday afternoon where the sky was scattered with threatening clouds, I entered the amphitheater that was Fluffy Festival. I had never been to the RNA Showgrounds except for the purpose of The EKKA, so it was a wonderful surprise to see the oval so brightly decorated and festooned with many – though not overly crowded – striking inhabitants. The Festival was wonderfully arranged. Upon entrance, one was immediately overwhelmed with the goodness of old skool and disco at the Red Bull ‘Cabaret Stage’; the smoking pens gave way to the all important Bar where noxious Smirnoff Mojito cocktails and other giddy alcoholic beverages were on offer; the ‘Fluffy Main Stage’ stood in the middle of the oval with plenty of space promising to be filled with bodies for the evening ahead; markets, stalls and another huge bar area flanked the main stage area; the customary Red Bull Chillout Tent sat centre of the festival providing an excellent viewing spot overseeing the entire oval; oversized lady beetles clambered through the branches of a massive green tree where people elegantly reposed around its seating, and a tunnel mysteriously lead to the indoor cavern of the harem-decorated ‘Glam Stage’.

The Glam Stage had been decorated into a satin sheeted bordello, complete with a massive disco ball and fabric butterflies. One could even sniff the air and smell the spices and scents of the orient. The later illumination as evening fell would brighten up the sights into a glorious glowing world. Indeed, the layout was clear and accessible, ensuring few problems if one were to overindulge and ‘accidentally’ become blind. For Fluffy Festival, the Fluffy urbanites posed as the most arresting phenomena’s of all.

Indeed, to turn one’s head in any direction was to be well entertained, for these occupants were their own walking cabaret shows. Throughout the course of the event, I was privvy to the glorious sights of naughty nurses, immense platform heels, faeries and angels complete with wings, gumboots, wonderwoman, ‘Top Chick’ stilt walkers, a barrage of skulls, bikepants, polkadots, harlequins, rhinestone cowboys and cowgirls, cheerleaders, a myriad of varying tattoos, authoritarian-disciplinarian characters, tulle tutus, corsets, rainbow socks, butterflies on pink trucker hats, leather suspenders, gravity-defying afros, air flight pilots and urbane commandos, fluro knits, bunny ears, fishnet stockings, american indian chiefs and squaws, headbands, raver ‘legwarmers’, bikie inspired guardian angels, french maids, bouffants, leotards to ‘get physical’, a bunch of Lieutenant Debbie Callahan-inspired police officers, and strange as it sounds, tasteful fluro. Unlike other festivals where the colonists look as though they had been vomited in fluro, Fluffy people knew how to make the eye catching colour work. Doubtlessly, the chipper side of the community knew how to dress.

Highly commended goes to the locals for putting on such an array of talent and proving that ‘outside’ is not necessarily best – for what we have in our own backyard remains quite special too. Such talents included Habebe and Baby Gee playing back to back on the Fluffy Main Stage (a position one may consider as auspicious for such an event). Their combined beats and rhythms were solid and impenetrable where popular melodies like Wild Thing tore at our souls as the bass lines lay thick with substance. DJ Mr Sparkle unleashed the usual Sparkle goodness of poignant sex-drenched disco tunes with waves of arousing melodies entwining around the body. The wet string patches of We Are Family resounded towards the entrance that greeted newcomers to the event, compounding the message of togetherness and accord. Later joined by the artistry of Mr Hands on a beautiful Selmer Mark VI alto saxophone, the immense talents of two remarkable musicians was definitely apparent as flagrant horn sounds penetrated a convoluted mix. Truly, Blame It On the Boogie has long been a tune of odiousness, but under the combined applications of Mr Hands and DJ Mr Sparkle, this tune recaptured the pure joy I once remember reserving for it.

On the Glam Stage, Chris Wilson’s determined beats undulated across the silken walls, as his headstrong rhythms and prominent basslines from the familiar melodies penetrated the body with ease. One notable climax for the event comes with especial thanks from Fluffy’s parents, Neroli and Harry K; their noxious rhythms and familiar modern arias proving bewitching and exhilarating. With the grass beneath one’s feet and the moon and stars above, one could count oneself as truly alive when caught up in the moment of dancing and (badly) singing or lipsyncing.

‘Glam Points’ were most certainly deserved by Sydney’s Divine DJs, Dan Murphy, Sveta and Kate Monroe. Dan Murphy sent out revolving basslines that firmly undulated across the fields. With masterful buildups in anticipation, his climaxes were artfully released into a throbbing mass of pure energy. Sveta produced an infiltration of jangling distortion with throbbing beats. Her mix sounded all the more powerful with thanks to the copious subs and speakers surrounding her lithe form, while Kate Monroe devastated all within range; redeeming bountiful bass heavy grooves and deep rhythms that enthralled one’s body and enticed maximum movement. While the Slinkee Minx trio looked pretty – their garb reminiscent to 1960s print and twinsets – they may have also been experiencing unfortunate onstage problems with limited feedback, since their harmonies often came across the speakers as out of tune. An especial favourable mention must be granted to the many endearing hosts: Divas Alexei Paige, Miss Synthetique, Vanessa Wagner, Maxi Shield and Simone Simons, who’s repartee celebrated diversity and chesty bonds. Their bouffant hairstyles and enchanting accouterment (including artful makeup) proved the envy of the female population, their accent profoundly Australian and their wit beautifully caustic with their deep sonorous voices an allure to the homoerotic. Praise most certainly must also be extended towards the dance acts, including the Ikin Dance Troupe – particularly its director, Anthony Ikin, who’s beautifully toned and taut body cavorted beneath many an adoring gaze (and as five times aerobic champion may also be seen cavorting in the Top 100 on television sets in upcoming popular dance competition series “So You think You Can Dance”); the Allure Dance Troupe who’s Pussy Cat Dolls- inspired outfits of burlesque boggled the imagination; and not to forget the beautiful magnetism of the Velvet Dolls nor the dynamism of ID Studio.

The Fluffy Medals of Praise would have to be extended to: Brielle Davis, dressed in a leather dress with a beguiling large metal zip up the front, her strong voice promising one be ‘Overstimulated’ over a layer of heavy programmed sequences. Her strong tuneful vocals carried clearly across the green grass while sexy dancers from the Ikin Dance Troupe flanked her every shimmying move. Minimal technicians comprising of the combined majesty of Andy Van and Kam Denny for Vandalism stoked the baleful Fluffy flames; their conjoined skills engulfing the system to explode upon our vulnerable bodies. Vandalism’s music was well soaked with vehemence and wrath as their annexed musical prowess came to the forefront. Fluffy beloved Mr Timothy featuring the supreme vocals of his latest songstress, local girl Natalie Dunn and their recent Ministry of Sound collaboration I Don’t Think That You Know came across beautifully on the immense system. The T-Funk’s beats wrecked havoc and inspired debauchery in the silken surroundings of Glam, while Fluffy favourite Alex Taylor, who’s beautifully buffed arms remained on excellent display, proved a musical monster. Taking to the decks, Alex let loose a riot of incredible melodies to sweep up the Glam inhabitants and transport them to nirvana. With the heat in the room reaching boiling point, Alex Taylor seemed to spread an undeniable poise upon the room, leaving the susceptible prone to his palpitating rhythms, and quivering with engorged textures that reverberated with bass heavy offerings.

Resounding applause would have to be gifted to the incredible performance of The Potbelleez for special moments which forever remain eternally suspended in time. With loud screams and clamours meeting with Dave Goode and Jonny Sonic’s entrance, The Potbelleez launched into an astonishing show of showmanship and musicality. Their beats were primeval; calling to each individual’s essential soul and spirit; their melodies were familiar, the strains appealing to the heart; their textures were plump with vigour and wet with heated sincerity. When MC Blu in skinny jeans and fabulous red shoes strode on stage to display her phenomenal MC skills in Junkyard, the crowd could only continue moving helplessly to the sublime rhythmic patter of her words. The exceptional vocal tones of Ilan ‘Ikki’ Kedron induced one towards an abundance in emotion as his clear voice sang the words to current canticle Don’t Hold Back. Ilan’s voice was pure and unsullied as his blonded locks glinted under the wonderful lighting in hypercolour fashion; the emotive lyrics belying the discotheque scene and capturing the climactic and representative moment of Fluffy Festival. “Engage me, let me breathe the courage of your actions … Don’t hold back, Is there anybody out there, feeling something.” All within bounds were captured mind, heart and soul; all dancing as one.

The immense performance abilities of Ricky Lee Coulter would likewise endure as illustrious. Beautifully draped in silver sequins with cleavage subtly on show, Ricky Lee took the audience on a divine journey from Beyonce’s Crazy In Love (including some fabulous ass-shaking moves) to her own releases of Hell No, Sunshine and Rainy Day and standards Proud Mary and I Wanna Dance With Somebody (displaying incredible vocal chops to perfection) to be finished off with current hit Can’t Touch This.

Finally, a Fluffy acclamation would have to go to the effervescent performance of luminaries Seany B and TV Rock’s Grant Smillie and Ian Gough. Grant and Ian’s mixing skills and musicality were undeniably secure and grooving; their rhythms mesmerising with bass lines heavy with the promise of what was to come. When Seany B appeared on stage, all hell broke lose as the crowd roared their love and appreciation. Seany B’s vocal tonality had balls. It was in fact, reminiscent to the legendary Brian Canham from Psuedo Echo – particularly the undeniable weighty prescence of profound bass heavy timbres. Seany B’s improvised rapping and speech song skills were wonderfully eloquent, his words well supported by the thick textures and endowed by the rhythmic offerings of the DJ duo. When crowd favourite Flaunt It finally came on, the joy of the crowd knew no bounds. The vibrant performance of this testosterone fuelled trio kept the plentiful though lingering crowd frantically moving in syncopation.

Indeed, Fluffy Festival 2007 remains as a most professionally run event and fun filled adventure. There was something to distract the cosmopolitan eye with sensual dancing acts, transgender comperes and superior live performances; plentiful quality music to divert the aural cavities and lighthearted wit from music selection to acerbic vernacular, to season the mind. The selection of the talent was excellent, the crowd numbers perfect and the venue location, ingenious. In all, this inaugural festival was outstanding. We of the tolerant, embracing, love-filled fraternity will lie in wait with hope, ever ready to unleash our rainbow colours and stand proudly before all who dare to object to the love generator that was the amazing Fluffy Festival. One can only ponder the limits of Fluffy’s promising future.