My memory of the moment we entered the sauna is of stepping into a dimly lit space and, through a cloud of steam rising from an oven in the centre of the room, slowly making out a sea of naked bodies of all shapes, sizes and, to my surprise, genders.
To get in, there are two choices: dress up or dress down.
The club is hidden discreetly down a back alley in Darlinghurst, in inner-city Sydney, and looks like any other narrow terrace house, with a few modifications of course.
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