First Class Fuckfest Roman — Todd Devy Down

If you weren’t downtown on Saturday, you missed a seismic shift in how we gather, groove, and grow. The story of CL Fest doesn’t begin with a press release or a sponsorship deal. It began in a cramped, graffiti-tagged warehouse loft six months ago, where Roman (a former music executive turned community organizer), Todd (a serial entrepreneur in the wellness-meets-nightlife space), and Devy (a digital artist whose immersive installations had gone viral on TikTok) sat on mismatched couches, frustrated.

“We didn’t want a field or a fairground,” Todd explains. “We wanted alleys, staircases, loading docks — places that already have stories. The grit is part of the glamour.” first class fuckfest roman todd devy down

“Tomorrow,” Todd counters, “Continuous Learning.” If you weren’t downtown on Saturday, you missed

Roman, Todd, and Devy stand at the center of the emptied festival grounds, picking up glitter (biodegradable) and hugging cleanup crew members. They look exhausted but electric. When asked what “CL” really stands for, the three exchange glances and laugh. “We didn’t want a field or a fairground,”

“Today?” Roman says. “Chaotic Love.”

“Every festival felt the same,” Roman recalls, sipping a cold brew on the now-festival grounds the morning after. “You pay $400, you stand in the sun, you watch a DJ you’ve seen three times, and you go home exhausted. We wanted to build something that actually lived — where lifestyle wasn’t a hashtag but the actual architecture of the event.”

The entertainment lineup itself was a manifesto: no headliners played longer than 75 minutes. No overlapping sets on adjacent stages. And every performance had to include a moment of “collective silence” — 30 seconds where the music dropped and you could only hear wind, footsteps, and breathing.