Madelene Kadziela is an intimacy curator and the founder of Bruxa, a sensual wellness brand. She also created Nocturnal, an initiative for connection and erotic events. Through her work, she fosters open conversations around sensuality, the erotic and self-care.
I grew up in a small country town with a Catholic family and a heavy silence around sex. Fantasy was shameful. Pleasure, unspeakable. Desire wasn’t just a secret, it was something I didn’t even know I was allowed to feel, let alone talk about over duck confit and champagne.
Hosting an erotic dinner in one of Melbourne’s most refined restaurants – where we explored those very things – felt like a luxurious middle finger to the shame I once swallowed. A love letter to the wide-eyed, curious girl I once was, who was taught to hide it all.
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The dinner
The candlelit room at Entrecôte glowed low and golden, as guests dressed in slip dresses and tailored blazers took their seat. A three-course meal of French cuisine unfolded slowly as drinks flowed and conversations that began with flirtation ended with confession. It wasn’t just another evening, it was a slow-burning act of seduction. A soft, defiant rebellion with a very good wine list.
Our guests were as diverse as the fantasies they shared, including members of Nocturnal (a members only society of the erotic), students from the shibari community, Mecca perfume girls, swooned couples and a woman in her 50s who writes erotic literature under a pseudonym. She told us she relishes the opportunity to defy society’s expectations, to be seen not as a “middle-aged woman,” but as a sensual being, unapologetically sexy. Icon behaviour! If I could’ve handed her a tiny golden statuette for lifetime erotic achievement, I would have.
Our guest speaker, sexologist Laura Miano, guided us into the seductive terrain of fantasy. She covered where it comes from, why it matters, and why it so often defies our moral scripts, speaking about fantasy as a mirror and how desire is shaped by memory, media, power, taboo. How some fantasies emerge not to be fulfilled but to be felt, understood and explored.
Throughout the night, we used conversation cards to pair up with new partners and explore questions designed to provoke not just arousal, but honesty. We shared our earliest sexual fantasies and our sexual awakening films (some named Legend – yes, the Tom Cruise and Tim Curry ’80s abstract fever dream – others James Bond or childhood musicals). Some answers were playful. Some were confronting. All were valid.
Men shared thoughts they’d never spoken aloud, some they feared might sound silly. But as I reminded the room, there are no silly answers. Just stories we haven’t given air. And if your sexual awakening was stirred by a cartoon fox or a badly choreographed dance number, congratulations – you’re in excellent company.
Why it matters
I was raised in a world where sex was either sin or silence. There was no in-between. I internalised that shame until it etched itself into my skin, guiding how I moved, who I trusted, what I believed I deserved. My entire life, I’ve felt like an outsider for knowing, deep down, that sex wasn’t bad.
Even as an adult, I’ve been told that building a brand around sexuality isn’t ‘good wife material’. (Spoiler: I’ve never been great wife material, I own more rope than Tupperware). The journey back to the erotic has been constant. I’ve had to accept the solitude that sometimes comes with choosing liberation. That resistance to being boxed in has been my fuel.
Through my sensual care brand, Bruxa, and my private society for play and connection, Nocturnal, I’ve created spaces that celebrate the erotic as something intelligent, sacred and deeply human. Hosting dinners like The Erotic Table may now seem trendy, but this isn’t about trend. It’s about belief in what I’ve always stood for. I’m here to proudly keep pushing the needle forward, preferably while wearing lipstick and quoting Anaïs Nin.
These nights matter because they remind us that fantasy doesn’t need to be rational. Pleasure doesn’t need permission. And intimacy, when held with care, becomes its own kind of rebellion.
I didn’t host the dinner to heal my younger self but she showed up anyway. And I think somewhere between the candlelight, the honesty, and the slow unfurling of stories, she finally felt seen. This was never just about sex. It was about permission. About power. About presence. And that, to me, is the most erotic thing of all.
And yes, more of these dinners are coming. If you missed out, don’t worry. There’ll be more events like this to come. Think of it as group therapy but sexier, and with better lighting.
Keep up with Bruxa’s events here.
This article Hosting erotic dinners is my rebellious love letter to my younger self appeared first on Fashion Journal.
2025-05-08 11:59:00
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