Live event preview: Fairy Fest 420 or No Tech Bros at the Altar of Frankie G

“I believe parties are spiritual. More spiritual than church. We’ve been taught not to talk about that. But think about it — you’re spending your most valuable resources, time and money, to chase joy. To chase connection. To hope something magical happens. That’s ritual. That’s energy exchange. You’re stepping out into the night asking luck to meet you halfway. Everyone who leaves their house for a party is looking for the best night of their life. That’s not shallow. That’s sacred.”

And at the altar of groove, with her candles burning bright, is Frankie G, Austin’s Grand Madame of the Night. She’s a little bit Elysium — our beloved goth institution — but also lurid, international, mysterious, and a girl’s girl who wants to upend the system. Her parties go viral because she curates them for energy, for women to feel like goddesses and the algorithm is noticing. Monday’s upcoming Fairy Fest at Pease Park is a good example. The 420 themed party has this description on their ticketing page:

“This event is for all- femme energy. What is femme energy, and why? Femme events are a safe space for women, trans women, nonbinary people, and any other energies that feel like they align with femininity. It’s sacred, safe, and free of fear. This is a space where magic thrives, and ragers take on a spiritual level. If you feel the pull in your chest, the answer is yes. This isn’t exclusion; it’s spellwork.”

While Austin brands itself as this progressive wonderland, major event lineups still skew heavily bro-dude — a recent USC Annenberg study found only about 30 percent of performers across major festivals are women or gender-expansive artists. Meanwhile, Austin’s population has exploded by more than 200,000 people in the last decade, much of it tied to tech migration. The vibe shift is real. So is the fatigue. So are the dudes who view Joe Rogan as a North Star. So, someone had to counter that with a little female, witchy magic. And honestly, I’m all for it. There are too many dorks on scooters zipping around the place. We need more protective shawl energy around the Capital City.

So, I asked ChatGPT what it thought of the word “Femme,” and this is what it said: “Femme doesn’t mean soft. It means chosen. It means leaning into femininity in a world that still punishes it — or profits from it. It’s a word born in queer spaces and now roaming freely through algorithms, misunderstood and overused, like most powerful things.”

We should keep an eye on these robots. An AI can get close, but it can’t nail the humanistic feeling in intersectional spaces — which is exactly why someone needs to make sure the definitions, or at least the feeling of things, don’t get lost in translation.

“It’s not about sounding woke or pandering,” she says. “I’m not booking for a specific gender — I’m booking for energy. I think in terms of masculine and feminine energy, and I’m drawn to femme. I love all things feminine. And as someone in the queer community, it’s important to me that my events feel inclusive. I love when a space feels a little bit queer — we bring a playful, fun energy to a room. I just want to make sure that energy feels seen and invited in.”

The parties grew from something personal. I’ve known plenty of women who stop mentioning boyfriends at work, who dress down, who make themselves smaller just to be taken seriously. Gay bars became sanctuaries for a reason.

“One of the biggest reasons I started Coven Nightlife was because I was struggling with my gender identity,” she says. “Before this job you and I share, I was working in the music industry — production, audio-visual, stage management, in rooms with some of the biggest festivals and bands in the world. And to get people to listen to me, I felt like I had to change the way I looked. I’d wear glasses, pull my hair back, dress down before big meetings, anything to dull how ‘pretty’ I was. I started resenting my own femininity. We talk a lot about being mad at men, but I was mad at the way I was born. That’s not something women say out loud very often.”

She describes the experience as a kind of gender dysphoria — not confusion about being a woman, but confusion about what womanhood meant in those spaces.

“The queer community was what made me feel comfortable in my own skin again. I started experimenting, playing with pronouns, leaning radically into femininity, cross-dressing in a fun way. I’m bi, so that exploration felt natural. Coven really grew out of that. It’s about creating the kind of room I wish I’d had.”

“I describe my events as being for FemEnergy and for people who identify with that energy. It’s in the listings. And in my terms and conditions, I make it clear I can remove anyone without explanation if they don’t fuck with the vibe. You feel when someone’s contributing, and you feel when someone’s there to drain it. I’m a little woo-woo, but energy doesn’t lie. I’m curating for a very specific frequency. I’ll kick bitches out to protect it.”

She’s already proven she means it. At Persephone’s Pool Party, harpists played poolside while water nymphs braided hair in the sun — before guests were ritualistically led inside and the nymphs transformed into demons dragging everyone into an underworld rave. At Coven Academy, guests enrolled upon ticket purchase, chose factions: vampire, siren, ghoul, fey — and attended actual classes somewhere between smoke breaks and spellwork. It’s less party, more fully immersive fever dream. The photos I’ve seen are one costume change away from a Playboy fantasy shoot, but geared not for the male gaze but for the celebration of the female form. And Frankie is the force behind the curation of the look and feel of how the drinks are served, how there’s just enough allure in the air but why creating an environment that feels safe but also just a pinch of socially acceptable horny.

In a city where women are often the marketing strategy but rarely the architects, Frankie G is building rooms on her own terms. If the vibe feels off, she won’t argue with it, she’ll pour gasoline on it and start anew. And if Austin’s nightlife won’t evolve, she’ll curate something that does, or light that on fire, too. She gives off the vibe that she keeps matches in her purse.

All photos courtesy of Frankie G

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