We Infiltrated Madonna's Not-So-Secret 'Club Confessions'

This is PAPER Diaries, an unfiltered look into the thoughts and lives of creative people making it happen for themselves — in the real world, on the internet and in our wildest fantasies. Today, we're catching up with writer Taylor Lomax, who infiltrated Madonna's highly exclusive (and dramatic) Club Confessions in West Hollywood this weekend. Read on below for debauchery and magic and electronic bliss.

FRIDAY, APRIL 24

2:14PM

I’m on break at work when the worst-kept secret in Los Angeles comes to my attention — the queen is in town, and she’s appearing at The Abbey tomorrow.

The event, dubbed “Club Confessions,” was to function both as promotion for her forthcoming Confessions II and a birthday party for Tristan Schukraft, the entrepreneur with businesses including The Abbey, PrEP provider MISTR, and Tryst Hotels. Stuart Price, Romy, and Mez Monty are set to DJ; Madonna herself is mentioned nowhere on the flier, the word “Confessions” and the trademark Confessions II red and pink doing that work for her.

Professional that I am, I begin outreach immediately; this is an emergency situation and should be treated as such.

3:56PM

Confirmation from the event’s publicist comes through. The situation is handled. My coworker is in awe.

5:53PM

A friend who’s going has called me a few times at this point, and I’m finally able to call him back; we have something resembling a conversation which is mostly variations on words like “panic,” “frenzy,” “pandemonium,” and “jubilee.” Afterward, I listen to “I Feel So Free” for the remainder of my drive home. Safety in numbers. I watch this week’s Ladies of London, but I can only think of Donna. (This does not preclude me from detesting Margo.) I switch to the Confessions tour documentary.

Saturday, April 25

9:15AM

It dawns on me that I do not know what I am going to wear. I am working again today, so that is a problem for after my shift, but I send out a few asks.

5:57PM

I’m off work, and I run by the thrift store next door. I was hoping my friend would be working — I’d texted him earlier with a mysterious “fashion emergency” — but the normal neighbor discount is fine. Anything for Donna. I buy two pairs of shorts I pay too much for.

6:05PM

The same friend from yesterday has called me four times. I call him back and we have another one of our “conversations,” this one with an increased intensity. Mania is setting in. Safety in numbers!!! I listen to “I Feel So Free” on loop again.

7:31PM

I’ve opted for an all-black number and a leather jacket — thrilling! — with a few possible variations (which shorts? Tee or tank?). Everyone is in agreement on the tee with denim shorts. I put on the Confessions tour movie again. I forgot how insane her vocal affect is on “Let There Will Be.”

9:00PM

The publicist told me to be there by 10, so I time my Uber to get me there at a cool 9:40ish. The app upgrades me to a Black. I feel invincible.

9:40PM

I arrive at the Abbey, where there’s a line of hopeful gay guys spanning a few blocks. I walk past them because I am on the list and therefore better than everyone else. The publicist I’ve been in touch with comes and grabs me, and I notice he has a Google Image search of me on his phone. This is a relief because I was typing out the least helpful outfit indicator of all time. I’m the gay guy in all black.

Even this early in the night, the bar — mostly an outdoor space, if you’ve never been — is buzzing. A photo op recreating the primary Confessions II cover greets me on one side; on the other, Willam is conducting social interviews. The friends I’m meeting up with aren’t here yet, so I do a lap to try and get a feel for the space and see if I can spot any early arrivers. Harry Daniels is my one sighting during this attempt. This also doubles as a reorientation to the space (all love to those who participate, WeHo is generally not my truth) and makes me feel at least a little productive while I search for the bathroom.

Naturally, there are specialty Absolut cocktails for the occasion, a move that makes me feel like I’m in an early season of Drag Race. They include the Absolut Madonna (Tabasco vodka, lemon, triple sec), the Confessions Cosmo (ingredients self-evident), La Isla Picante (a lemon-based spicy marg riff with that same Tabasco), and the Espresso Yourself (ingredients self-evident). I spring for the Espresso Yourself; it is going to be a long night.

Mez Monty is DJing at this point — mostly house beats, setting the vibe for what is to come. On the dance floor, I run into a friend, also a journalist; we laugh about that worst-kept secret which the trades all went on to dub a “surprise” appearance.

10:06PM

My friend texts me that he’s arrived and to meet by the photo wall. He’s come with Symone, fresh off her appearance on Netflix’s Big Mistakes; she’s wearing a fab Jeremy Scott pop art number. She knocks out her Willam interview (“my friend is famous, I need to talk to her” being Willam’s everyone-out-of-my-shot line), while a few others join the group. I spot Kylie Sonique Love and Jessica Wild. Lola Young walks by, seemingly toward the exit.

10:25PM

The group heads to the dance floor, where I’m promptly whisked away to meet Schukraft. I wish him a happy birthday and he jokes that he’s turning 35 again. I make my first “Madonna is a toddler” joke of the evening, which thankfully lands.

10:30PM

I switch to the Confessions Cosmo and pee again. This, I would soon come to understand, is a luxury.

10:41PM

I find myself standing next to Jeremy Scott. We have a brief hello.

11:02PM

I remember that I was at work today and that I have work tomorrow. I can be whoever I wanna be. Create a new persona.

11:21PM

For my third drink, I attempt to branch out and order La Isla Picante because I am a good journalist. The bartender is confused by this, so I cave and end up with another Confessions Cosmo.

11:30PM

Romy takes the stage, opening her set with her own “She’s On My Mind,” a song I alone among the group know. I’m one of the younger people in the crowd (26), so this isn’t too surprising, I suppose. Fab, euphoric eleven o’clock number which I first heard when Romy DJ’d at Rhonda a while back. Apparently, Stuart Price was a producer on this song. Intertext! Her set lasts a bit over an hour, mostly dance-pop tracks, particularly those with a house bent. This includes Beyoncé’s “End of Time,” and thank god. She plays a couple of Jamie tracks, including “Loud Places” which is cute I guess, except for the fact that I used to cry to this song in high school and now I am hearing it at the Abbey when I am supposed to be dancing. Katy Perry’s “Lifetimes” is inexplicably another pick, and I cannot help but think of Julianne Nicholson’s Emmy award-winning work as Dance Mom. Someone asks where Symone went, to no answer.

11:49PM

The dance floor is packed at this point, so I try and sneak out for one last bathroom break before Donna. Security immediately thwarts my plan, informing me I won’t be able to get back into the dance floor area. I give my bladder a pep talk.

11:52PM

A friend confirms Donna is in the building; the buzz, at this point, is that she is going to perform for 45 minutes on the dance floor. It is a state of emergency.

Sunday, April 26

12:01AM

Romy plays a mashup of “She’s On My Mind” (again), “Into You,” and “Finally.” I am beside myself; all earlier sins are forgiven.

12:09AM

Jessica Wild appears onstage. I love this drag queen!!

12:24AM

Symone emerges behind the booth, dancing with Romy. All is right in the world.

12:35AM

A white man joins Romy onstage. The crowd gets tighter, antsier. I understand this to be Stuart Price.

12:38AM

Stuart takes over the decks, with strobe-y Confessionals II and “I Feel So Free” visuals in tow. I would be worried that my excitability was unbecoming were I not in an overall pack of rabid enthusiasm. Somehow, a latecoming friend manages to make his way to us.

12:46AM

Stuart plays a remix of Bedtime Stories cut “Secret;” mass hysteria ensues.

12:52AM

A voice cuts through the trance of house beats, determined and unmistakable: “it’s muthaaaaa.” I instantly recognize this as being from the Grindr ad copy, a realization I take a beat with. Obsessed with this husky sultry voice she is doing this era.

12:53AM

A sea of phones in front of me signal that the prophecy has been fulfilled.

“Hello, children. Mother is here to save you. Are you ready to dance for me? Come on, meet me on the dance floor…” M calls out over the mic. People are screaming louder than I thought humanly possible. I am screaming louder than I thought humanly possible. Madonna is famously diminutive, but you forget just how tiny she really is until you’re trying to catch a glimpse of her from the middle of a sartine tin. (Next time, perhaps consider a riser for mother? A stepstool, even?) I find my windows.

“Okay, let’s go gays, come on,” she continues. “Don’t let me down, gays!” That last one is said almost like a slur; it’s glorious. “Yay. For. Gays!” It is around this point I notice the platform behind us, with a fully-clothed cameraman and a barely-clothed gogo boy side by side. Hollywood!

Almost involuntarily, the crowd erupts in a rhythmic “Madonna! Madonna! Madonna!” chant. It is a primal sort of faggotry on display, the type that reminds you that we are all a community at the end of the day. This transitions into “I Feel So Free,” at which point I’m on my knees. Safety in numbers!!! She spends the bulk of the number underneath the veil from the album cover, which she also brings Stuart under, as children hiding under a bedsheet.

We will spend the remainder of the night debriefing the following thirty minutes and piecing them all together. I text my hag: “TODDLER.”

12:59AM

M jumps into a new track, which I believe is called “Freedom.” Symone is dancing out in front of her, and either she’s on an elevated platform or is just that much taller than M, but if you didn’t know better you really would think the Stop! That! Train! star is the center of attention. Julia Fox is behind the booth with Kylie Sonique Love and Eureka, the latter sporting a Divine look.

My friend elbows me, panicked — “ADDISON!!!!” — and lo and behold, Addison Rae is up there dancing right next to Symone, in a cheeky little eye mask recalling The Girlie Show.

A “Get Together” remix follows.

1:03AM

A shrill voice comes on the mic; this is, of course, Addison, who is trashed, and good for her. “MAKE SOME NOISE FOR MADONNAAAAA!!!” she squeals. This is both the best a kind of drunk to be (or be around) and extremely real and vulnerable of her. M attempts to wrench the mic back, to no avail, as Addison continues to hype up the crowd. She is all of us. When M finally regains control, she yells at everyone to put their phones down. I feel guilty about continuing to capture video, but I am a journalist after all.

1:08AM

Another new song, this one with a call-and-response bit: “nothing that we cannot do!” I think this one may be “Love Sensation.” Donna is really into chanting and repetition tonight. That, and the whole mother thing. As far as I can tell, all the new music is glorious, dancier and clubbier than the first Confessions in the way “I Feel So Free” is, but again, the room was collectively in fight or flight mode, so who can really say?

1:10AM

Another new song, this one with a call-and-response bit: “nothing that we cannot do!” I think this one may be “Love Sensation.” Donna is really into chanting and repetition tonight. That, and the whole mother thing. As far as I can tell, all the new music is glorious, dancier and clubbier than the first Confessions in the way “I Feel So Free” is, but again, the room was collectively in fight or flight mode, so who can really say?

1:10AM

A “Thief of Hearts” remix, centering on the “bitch!” part. Every ounce of bitterness I might have had at TikTok randomly blowing this song up (that’s my emotional support Erotica deep cut!) vanishes in this moment.

1:13AM

A cunty little house mix of the “it’s muthaa” bit. Again, she is very into this tonight. It is of course pandering, but this is also a sequel album to a gay fan favorite, and one must always consider that she is — and I cannot stress this enough — literally Madonna.

Her boyfriend Akeem Morris is behind the booth; he clearly adores her. My friends have their eyes on him.

1:17AM

“Hung Up.”

1:20AM

1:23AM

Donna exits the stage, challenging her gays to take their clothes off and dance. Given this is an invite-only party in Los Angeles, everyone scatters as “Up Down Suite” plays. Please know that I do consider dancing alone in light of the song choice. I think they are also talking about this one on TikTok.

1:25AM

We step into an outdoor area and attempt to make sense of what just transpired. No one is speaking in full sentences, or particularly words. Lily Allen is here; she had a show downtown earlier but was able to make it in time given her show’s brevity and Donna’s relationship with punctuality . Bebe Rexha is also, apparently, here. Meredith and Seth Marks as well, though I tragically don’t see them. (Other notables: Kali Uchis, Archie Madekwe, more Ru girls including Gottmik and Sasha Colby, and I keep seeing Tori Spelling highlighted in coverage for some reason.)

1:30AM

We head toward VIP, where there’s a mass exodus because M’s security has tightened things up. Kelly Mantle passes on the way. No one gets in. I probably could have made it into VIP if I actually tried, but then I run into Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg’s assistants, which is briefly baffling until I remember her plot-line on The Studio’s forthcoming season. Both straight guys to my knowledge, they are effusive about the Queen.

1:50AM

One of my friends is talking to Sky Ferreira; elsewhere, I see Lushious Massacr holding court (as she is prone to do). I remember that I have to pee from two hours ago, which feels like a prior existence at this point but quickly becomes current.

2:20AM

We all Confess, which is to say we put the veil on and take our little photos. I get embarrassed doing public photo ops like this, especially when people are waiting, but no one else is there and thank god I indulge because how else would I have this above photo.

2:25AM

We head to an afters, continuing to speak in half-sentences and vague queenisms. Everyone offers a variation on Donna being a toddler. Her chanty predisposition tonight comes up. Why are they letting children into the bars.

2:27AM (approx.)

Eureka, in Divine drag as a reminder, goes live on Instagram for fourteen minutes about her apparent ousting from VIP. I do not watch the broadcast at this time or know its contents, but I am aware of its existence.

2:45AM

The mood at the afters is appropriately shell-shocked, everyone collectively processing what was just Witnessed.

3:00AM

More people arrive. A few people arrive who weren’t at the function, and I feel bad because I am sure we are all being insufferable.

3:20AM

A Meghan Trainor song comes up on the YouTube algorithm; the situation is quickly remedied.

3:30AM

I’m outside and we see someone arrive, waving around the veil from the photo op. Kylie Minogue’s “Dancing” is blaring.

3:35AM

The above photo of Donna becomes the topic of conversation.

​3:50AM

I feel myself starting to fade, along with the fact that I have to work in the morning beginning to rear its ugly head. I call my car. This time, I am not upgraded to a Black, because my luck has now run out. “Brittany Murphy” by Slayyyter is playing as I exit.

4:00AM

Eureka has posted the live to her feed; in it, she describes being “physically yoked up” and removed from a VIP booth. I screen-record all fourteen minutes in the back of the car in case she deletes it. (As of yet, she has not.) She claims to be wrapping up the rant no less than three times, and I am also from the South, so I get it.

4:32AM

I get home, eat a Pop-Tart, and fall asleep in my contacts and clothes with all the lights on.

9:13AM

Miraculously, I wake up despite not having set an alarm. My cup runneth over!

10:57AM

I am early for work.

Photography: BFA, JasonSeanWeiss & LinneaStephan, Abdi Nazemian, Tyler Matthew Oyer