Susanne Bartsch on Drugs, Doubt, and Doing the Work

By Alexander Cheves

In gay New York nightlife, no name carries quite the weight that Susanne Bartsch does. 

Known for her extravagant parties, fashion-icon status, and role as a bridge between queer counterculture and the club mainstream, the Swiss-born, New York-based party organiser was a key figure of the “club kid” scene in the 80s and 90s. Bartsch has spent decades building a nightlife legacy that now includes the latest surprise: a Pride collaboration with Berlin-based collective BCCO. 

The collective’s ongoing mix series has, over the past few years, become a space for new and established voices in underground club culture to showcase their talent.

For Pride this year, lasting the full month of July, BCCO handed the reins over to queer collectives across the world. Starting the month, the first week of July was taken over by Bartsch and her New York City collective, ON TOP.

Every artist featured is someone she personally mentored and championed. 

The idea of speaking with such a legend was intimidating, but when you have the chance to talk to Susanne Bartsch, you take it. At events—and online—Bartsch serves avant-garde looks and bold makeup, but Hinterhaus wanted a peek behind the curtain.

What does a day off look like for Susanne Bartsch?

“I lie in my big bed and watch old movies!” she says, laughing. “I don’t watch TV, I like to just crash, be a bitch, stay in my PJs, and not do anything except play with my cats.”

Like many New Yorkers, she needs frequent breaks from the hustle of the city.

“I have a place upstate and sometimes go there. I like nature and just getting away from everything—I find that really rejuvenating.” 

Bartsch is also an avid city walker: “I love taking a stroll down the avenues.” 

I could confirm this. Back in my New York years, I sometimes saw her walking in Chelsea, close to her home at the iconic Chelsea Hotel—often wearing a David Barton Gym t-shirt (Barton, a gym impresario and fitness legend, is her husband). 

“I’ll sit in a café or hang out, go to a museum—very chill. I don’t go shopping in stores, I don’t find that rejuvenating. I like walking down the West Side Highway by the river.”

Finding a healthy work-life balance is hard, even when you’re a legend.

“I have an office here, but that space keeps getting smaller and smaller because everything’s moved to ‘the square’—what RuPaul calls the computer.” 

She does not need to clarify who she means: RuPaul Charles, arguably the world’s most famous drag queen and the multi-Emmy-winning host of RuPaul’s Drag Race. Susanne Bartsch discovered RuPaul in the 1980s and helped launch his career. 

Lamenting about technology, she says, “You don’t need fax machines or big equipment anymore. It’s all in the square: the computer, the phone, the iPad.”

What is your favourite part of New York City to walk in?

Nowhere specific, she says. “New York is best when you’re outside on a bench. You never know who’s going to be around the corner.”

When I tell her I used to live in New York, in Astoria, she lights up. “Astoria’s really hopping nowadays. It’s the place to be!”

This launches her into a little oral history of New York’s party scene, which she’s been at the centre of for decades.

How has NYC nightlife changed?

“Back in the old days, when we were doing events—like in the ’80s and the ’90s—there was this thing: you didn’t do a party on Friday or Saturday. That was the bridge-and-tunnel crowd’s time. ‘Bridge and tunnel’ means Brooklyn and New Jersey. The big nights were Sunday or Thursday. But now it’s completely flipped. Friday and Saturday are the big nights. And Brooklyn is cool now.” 

And Manhattan, where she still lives, has “shifted.” 

“Manhattan is full of real estate agents, lawyers, and accountants. The artists aren’t really here anymore, which is sad. I still love it, don’t get me wrong—I’m not complaining. But it’s a huge switch.” 

When I tell her the folks at BCCO described her as “extremely organised and professional,” she sounds surprised.

“Oh wow, that’s nice to hear! I was so busy because I was working on my exhibition that just opened in Zurich. That was a huge amount of work. I couldn’t do what I wanted to do right then and there. Look how long it took me just to get organized with you!”

Susanne Bartsch doesn’t seem to realise how good she is. The time between our first interview request and this conversation was about two weeks. For comparison, most artists and DJs do not respond for months—many never do at all.

And DJs have something to sell, a product that needs promotion. But Susanne Bartsch does not need press. In this, she proves the maxim that, unless you’re very lucky, you rise to the top by working harder than everyone else.

Why do you think people find you easy to work with?

And, she adds, “I’m a Virgo. An organised mess, you know? I care about things. I’m not just doing this for the sake of doing it. I care. Maybe that’s why I seem organised in a situation like this.”

I tell her that, in nightlife, her kind of reliability can feel rare. She laughs again.

“Well, one of my secrets is: no drugs, and not too much drinking. That’s really it. I can’t do drugs. I’m lucky that way—my body just doesn’t tolerate them. I’ve tried everything, but nothing really worked for me. I don’t enjoy it. If you offer me a line of coke, I’ll feel physically nauseous.” 

Do you like booze?

She’s not a big drinker, either. “I look at those espresso cocktails all the time and think, ‘Ooh, that looks delicious,’ but I know if I drink it, I’ll be sick. I can only really drink wine or champagne, and even then, that’s rare—I can do two or three glasses max. That’s a lot for me. When I drink more, I feel a bit off the next day.” 

Not having hangovers helps her stay consistent and available and follow through on things. “It’s made a big difference in how I work.”

I agree. In Berlin, discussions rage on drugs and safety in clubland—on the sometimes murky line between support and enabling, between care and responsibility. 

Speaking cautiously, she says Berlin still makes her a bit nervous.

“I’ve been a few times, and I know people love it, but I just can’t do the 24-hour club thing. The clock you have to follow there, being out for a whole day straight, I don’t think you can do it unless you’re on something.” 

But she agrees there is “magic” in it, too—the inherent joy of nightlife we all share.

“People letting their hair down, getting out of themselves, that can be beautiful. But to me, it feels like the drugs are even more common than they used to be. Like, it faded for a while and then came back stronger.” 

How do you feel about drugs at your parties?

Officially called “ON TOP by Susanne Bartsch,” her parties are held at LeBain at the very top of The Standard Hotel on New York’s High Line—a two-storey club with black tile walls, disco balls hung from the ceiling, and panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows.

While you’re dancing, you can look out on a bird’s eye view of Manhattan—a stone’s throw from iconic landmarks like the Chrysler Building and One World Trade Centre. (Even now, the memory of dancing there makes me want to cry.) The second floor is a sunny rooftop deck with astroturf and cafe tables. 

It was, without a doubt, my favourite party venue in the city when I lived there, and I tell her this. In fact, I went to a couple of her parties.

They were not without drugs, but they were not “druggy”—they were bohemian, places where young, working creatives (local jewellery designers, drag queens from RuPaul, fashion kids) rubbed shoulders and turned looks. 

“I’m sure people come to my parties high, but drugs are not really part of the culture,” she says. “If someone’s looking for that heavy, deep, all-night kind of scene, they’re not gonna come to one of my events. We’re not going until 7 a.m. That’s not the vibe.” 

She says her “core crowd” is not that energy. “Not better or worse. Just not as extreme. And I think that reflects me. I’m not against it at all, but it’s just not what I do.”

When I tell her that’s also the vibe I got from ON TOP—that it felt more like love than drugs—she heartily agrees.

“Yes, totally. I feel like there’s a lot of love in those rooms. There’s this sense of, ‘We’re together.’ You know what I mean? It’s a social vibe.” 

I remembered a lot of flirting at those parties, too.

Is ON TOP by Susanne Bartsch a sexy party?

There wasn’t a backroom or sex room, like in so many Berlin parties—but ON TOP is certainly cruisy. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I love flirting!” she said. “I think sex is great. People absolutely come to my parties to meet other people. And I want that to happen. But it’s not about sex in that kind of transactional way. It’s not a Grindr party, you know?” 

Then I asked her something we ask everyone we interview—something important to us.

What can club people do to make nightlife safer for women?

Bartsch pauses. “I’ll be honest, I’m a heterosexual woman, and I haven’t had anything happen to me in a nightclub. But maybe I’m lucky. And also, I love gay parties. I think that’s part of it. It’s safe. It’s all the gays, and they’re not trying to grab my ass, you know what I mean?” 

She mentions that she recently did an interview with Loverboy magazine on this very subject—about how she is so affiliated with the gay community, how much she loves and shares in gay culture. 

“Maybe I just subconsciously choose to be in those spaces because I feel safe in them,” she muses.

Why do you connect so profoundly with gay culture?

She’s an icon of the gay party scene—what about gay culture does she love? 

“I like the colour, the campiness. The gays have more fun than the straights—I’ve always thought that. They express themselves more. There’s more freedom. I love the art. I love the fun.”

She ties safety in nightlife to something systemic. “We should have health insurance. That’s part of it. But we’re essentially self-employed, you know? We get the short end of the stick. We don’t get paid if we’re sick—we don’t get benefits. There’s a lot about being self-employed that’s just not fair.” 

She adds, “Insurance doesn’t keep you physically safe, but it’s connected. There should be more laws. If someone does something harmful or offensive, they should be punished—not just a slap on the wrist. It shouldn’t be, ‘Oh, well, that’s just how it is.’ That old-school way of thinking—that ‘boys will be boys’ thing—it needs to go.” 

But she’s careful with her words and stresses that she can’t speak on this as a victim of assault.

“I don’t really have a smart thing to say about how to fix it, except we just have to keep going in the direction we’re going. We’re not where we need to be, but we’re on the way. It’s better now than it was. People know it’s not okay anymore. And there’s more support. Back in the day, if you went to the police and said someone assaulted you in a nightclub, they’d just look at you like, ‘So what? You’re in a club. You were asking for it.’ That was the attitude.” 

Then, her tone shifts. She says: “It was just like when they used to say AIDS was a ‘gay disease,’ and that gay people deserved it.” 

Can we talk about the AIDS years?

“I remember when it started. In ’81. They said the same thing. They said, ‘You asked for it.’” 

She has been so kind and open throughout our talk, but at this, the emotion in her voice thickens.

“It was very painful, losing all those friends. I still get tearful when I talk about it. It never leaves you. There was no support. I mean, AIDS was literally labelled a gay disease. And the heteros, the government—they weren’t helping. It was horrible. But I did my part. I marched, fought, and did events to raise money and celebrate life. To let people know we were here. That we were alive. That even if some people had this disease, we still cared about them. They were still human.” 

We talk more about it—about how modern antiretrovirals came, thanks in large part to the work of AIDS activists in the 80s. “It’s not a death sentence anymore,” she said. “That’s amazing. Hopefully, one day they can get rid of it for good.”

I decide to share something personal. “When I think about my own life,” I tell her, “if I had caught it ten years earlier, I’d be dead. I got lucky. By the time I caught it, the meds were great, and that’s because of those people you marched with. They saved my life.”

She says she remembered when the AIDS crisis seemed to shift. “The heteros started getting AIDS, too. And honestly, that helped. It’s a terrible thing to say, but it did help. It woke people up. It wasn’t just the gay community anymore—it started to spread to everyone. Suddenly, people cared.” 

How was living in NYC during COVID?

I ask her how the COVID pandemic was for her—if it seemed to emotionally echo the AIDS years, as it did for some of my friends in the city. 

“The pandemic was a piece of cake compared to AIDS,” she said. “As far as the emotional side, and how many people died, and the feeling of helplessness: with COVID, people had hope right away. There was help. Scientists were on it. But with AIDS, nobody did anything. It was hopeless. That’s just what it was.”

Sensing this talk is getting a little heavy, I change the subject. Thinking of all the interesting people she’s met in her life and career, I wonder which ones stood out to her.

Who is the most inspiring person you’ve met?

“Oh, that’s hard. There isn’t just one,” she says.

“Honestly, for me, it’s the kids. The people who make an effort to transform themselves. Who show up in looks. The ones who try to become who they really are, even if that’s scary. People who aren’t afraid to venture into something they weren’t born into. You know, we’re all born into this structure—this framework that says ‘you’re supposed to be this, and do that, and stay within these lines.’ And to me, the people who inspire me most are the ones who break that framework. Whether they fail or succeed doesn’t matter. It’s about the courage to try. That’s what inspires me.”

But, if she has to name a name, she can think of one person in particular.

“Of course, I loved Leigh Bowery. He was a friend. I brought him over to New York from London. He was incredible.”

Then she tells me about three men who shaped her life. “They weren’t the most famous. They were three lovers who helped me become who I am.” 

The first was named Paul, in London.

“He helped me see who I was. I left home because I had to grow—I had to figure out what I am, and I didn’t want to go back to Switzerland and do what I was raised to do. You know—get married, have a kid, buy a house, have a bank account. There’s nothing wrong with that, but I knew there was more for me. I knew I had to figure out who I really was. That boyfriend helped me through that, helped me face my doubts. I never went back home, and he was one of the reasons why.”

The second boyfriend—intentionally unnamed—was the one who brought her to New York.

“I had my education in London, but I did my life in New York,” she says. “That was a turning point. A whole new chapter. That guy made it happen.” 

The third: her husband, David Barton. “He brought me motherhood,” she said. “And he gets me. He’s supportive. We’re like two peas in a pod. We really understand each other—our talents, our needs, our dreams.” 

She stresses that the most inspiring people in her life were not celebrities—though she’s met quite a few.

“They’re not Diana Vreeland or Donna Summer,” she said, “Being inspired by someone is not about fame. It’s personal.”

I tell her it’s reassuring to hear that someone like her still has doubts.

Do you ever have moments of doubt with the ON TOP parties?

“There’s always that little voice, you know? Like, is anyone actually going to show up for this? I used to worry about that all the time. Like, ‘Oh my God, what if no one comes? What if the party is not packed?’” 

Susanne Bartsch does not worry about that stuff anymore. 

“I really don’t. Because even if it’s not packed, it’s still going to be good. That whole thing of it having to be busy—I’ve let that go.” 

Like every party organiser I know, Bartsch used to stress about the weather. Half of the space at ON TOP is outdoor.

“But you know what, we don’t need the outdoors—it’s big enough inside. Yeah, being outside is nice. The views, the air, the light. But if it rains, it rains. It’s still going to be great. I know that now.” 

She is emphatic: “ON TOP is a great party. I’m not taking it for granted—I don’t know what next year will look like—but this year? This season? It’s looking amazing. Sure, I still have doubts. But I don’t let them run the show. You can have doubts, but you still have to move.” 

She recalls a line her mother used to say: “Winning or losing doesn’t matter. What matters is playing the game.” That’s her motto now, too. 

What music is Susanne Bartsch listening to now?

When I ask about the music she loves now, she says she doesn’t know the names of any songs or artists—she’s “totally musically illiterate” with song titles. 

“That’s rare now,” she said. “The dance floor is one of the last places where the phones disappear and we’re just together. That’s what music means to me.”

But, after a beat, she mentions a specific artist: “I really love Chappel Roan. I have one of her tracks in my current playlist. I love her authenticity. It’s real.”

Do you still love New York?

“It’s still the same. I love it. Every time I come back, like when I’m coming in from the airport and see that skyline, it lifts me every time. I feel energized.” 

I confess something: she seems to me like part of a vanishing New York, from a time when the city was affordable for artists and creatives. One reason I left was that it was now unaffordable. 

“Yes, it’s changed a lot,” she says. “It’s expensive. A lot of artists have moved out. But I still love the energy of it. That hustle, that feeling that you can do anything. That’s still here.” 

She makes a final interesting observation about it: “New York is the city of PR, you know? Every Monday, there’s a million-dollar deal, and by Friday, it’s fallen apart. But there’s always another Monday. That’s New York.” 

Words: Alexander Cheves

Images: All photos provided by Susanne Bartsch unless otherwise noted.

Alexander Cheves writes widely on sex, culture, and nightlife, including two standing columns in Out Magazine. His debut book, My Love Is a Beast: Confessions, became a bestseller; a follow-up arrives in 2026. Find him on Instagram and X at @badalexcheves.

BCCO’s Pride 2025 Mix Series was produced by Glenn Elliott with Tom Peters as Executive Producer.