As we entered the 1980s, hiNRG music provided the soundtrack to the clone scene that had taken over Earl’s Court and the cellar bar at Heaven. The clone look, imported from the Castro area of San Francisco, saw gay men wearing a hyper-sexualised and macho uniform of denim and leather, accessorised with a Muir cap and handlebar moustache. In complete contrast, gender-bending fashionistas were adding camp creativity to the Tuesday night events at Blitz in Covent Garden. Amongst these Blitz Kids credited with kick starting the New Romanic Movement were the likes of Boy George, Marilyn and Princess Julia, creating their own androgynous fashions. 

And then the party abruptly stopped when gay men in London began to start being affected by a mysterious disease which was first reported in the US. Originally dubbed the “4H disease,” as it seemed to only affect “homosexuals, heroin users, haemophiliacs and Haitians,” it was then called GRID (Gay-Related Immune Deficiency) and finally Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome or AIDS. It was a devastating disease and a devastating time, as anyone who lived through the period and lost friends or lovers will attest. 

Not only did the disease rip through the community, but gay people were also demonised and shamed like never before. It’s something that Russell T Davies’ masterpiece It’s a Sin captured in such a moving and visceral way. The disease was also to claim the lives of some of our greatest entertainers and performers including Freddie Mercury, Kenny Everett, Leigh Bowery, Derek Jarman, Sylvester and Keith Haring. Almost four decades since AIDS was first identified, 33 million people have died as a result of the disease across the planet.  

If we can find a positive in so much tragedy, it was the creation of HIV and AIDS charities, who not only worked to educate and support people, but also took a lead when it came to health care provision and ground-breaking research. It also galvanised the gay community to become more political than ever before, which was especially important when the Conservative government introduced Clause 28, a nasty piece of bigoted legislation that decreed that “a local authority shall not (a) intentionally promote homosexuality or publish material with the intension of promoting homosexuality; (b) promote the teaching in any maintained school of the acceptability of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship.’” There are disturbing echoes in Florida’s recent “Don’t Say Gay Bill.” 

Clause 28 seemed to legitimise homophobia and made it ever more difficult for young LGBT+ people to access information in a pre-internet age. The law certainly triggered a new momentum in activism, with the charity Stonewall formed by Sir Ian McKellen, Lisa Power MBE and Lord Cashman CBE to fight for equality in response to the law. Whilst the purpose of Section 28 had been to silence homosexuals, it actually led to us becoming a more vocal, politicised and visible community than ever before.  

In 1987, Westminster Council decided to clamp down on the sex shops and brothels of London’s red-light district in Soho. This attempt to clean up the sleaze saw much of the sex industry moving elsewhere, leaving a number of empty premises. The Swiss Tavern, which was a popular haunt for gay men, became an openly queer venue under the name Comptons. The move was to kick start an LGBT+ nightlife revolution that saw Soho become the gay centre of the UK and the envy of the rest of the world.