Today it’s too late for church, but I’m still perfectly on time for Berghain. It’s Sunday afternoon, 2.20pm – prime time for the club. I've had some cereal, a cappuccino and some juice. Traditionally, you dress up for church, in heels and makeup, but this doesn’t work for Berghain. So I put on a tight, black cotton dress and an old but expensive bomber jacket. I’ve read through a few blogs that tell you what to wear and what not to wear if you go to Berghain these days. I try to stick to the creed: not too glamorous, not too queer, not too heterosexual, whatever that is supposed to mean. I am told to go by myself, not to speak English and to wear a lot of black. A memory flashes in my mind of these funny raver girls from Estonia who were standing in line in front of me a couple of years ago. They had glitter 'tramp stamps' on their jeans and Sven Marquardt, the famous bouncer with the pierced face, liked this so much that he invited them into the club in an uncharacteristically friendly manner. The door policy is unpredictable like that.