When you think of Munich, you picture beer halls, alpine views, and old-world charm. But behind the cobblestones and lager glasses, there’s another side of the city-one that pulses with neon lights, bass-heavy beats, and women who own their space. Kitty Core isn’t just another name in the scene. She’s the face of a new kind of nightlife in Munich, where confidence isn’t borrowed-it’s built.
How Kitty Core Got Here
Kitty Core didn’t wake up one day and decide to become a performer. It started in a tiny apartment in Nuremberg, where she was working retail and scrolling through Instagram. She saw other women-real women, not filtered illusions-owning their bodies on stage, in clubs, on camera. Not as props. Not as eye candy. As artists. That’s when she started posting her own photos. Just her. No makeup. No fake tan. Just natural, unapologetic, and loud.
By 2022, she moved to Munich. Not because it was glamorous. But because it was quiet. The city didn’t have the chaos of Berlin or the hype of Cologne. It had space. And space, she learned, was what she needed to grow.
Her Routine: More Than Just Shows
Most people think her life is all parties and photo shoots. It’s not. Her day starts at 11 a.m. with coffee, a 20-minute stretch, and a quick scan of her calendar. She’s got three bookings this week: one private session, one club night at Wunderbar, and a photoshoot for a German indie brand that actually lets her choose the clothing.
She doesn’t work every night. In fact, she’s strict about it. Two shows max per week. The rest? She reads. She cooks. She walks through the Englischer Garten with her dog, a black lab named Loki. She’s not chasing virality. She’s chasing control.
The Clubs That Made Her
Kitty doesn’t perform at the big tourist traps. No Chaos. No Starkenberger. She plays where the locals go. Wunderbar on the edge of Schwabing is her home base. The owner, a former jazz drummer in his 50s, lets her set the vibe. No set playlist. No dress code. Just good sound, dim lights, and a crowd that knows when to cheer and when to stay quiet.
Then there’s Le Petit Club, tucked under a railway arch in Haidhausen. It’s tiny. Barely 50 people. But it’s where she debuted her first live set. No costumes. Just her, a mic, and a loop pedal. She sang a cover of Björk’s “Hyperballad.” No one moved. No one took photos. They just listened. That night, she knew she wasn’t just a model. She was a performer.
Her Rules: No Exceptions
Kitty doesn’t do “just one more photo.” She doesn’t do “just one more drink.” She doesn’t do “just one more night out.” She has three hard rules:
- No touching without consent. Even at clubs. Even if you’re drunk. Even if you think it’s harmless. She’s filed three police reports.
- No photos without permission. She’ll ask you to delete it. If you refuse, she’ll ask the bouncer to remove you. No drama. No yelling. Just quiet, firm boundaries.
- No shame in being paid. She doesn’t pretend she’s “just doing it for fun.” She charges €300/hour for private sessions. €1,200 for a full shoot. She pays her taxes. She has a business license. She’s not hiding.
These rules aren’t about being difficult. They’re about survival. She’s seen too many girls get used up, then discarded.
What She’s Changing
Munich’s adult scene used to be about men. Men who filmed. Men who booked. Men who decided who was “hot enough.” Kitty flipped that. She started a collective called She’s the Scene-a group of seven women, all performers, all locals, all running their own businesses. They share clients, book venues together, and host monthly meetups in a rented studio near the Isar River.
They don’t call themselves “models.” They call themselves “creators.” They don’t sell sex. They sell presence. A look. A voice. A moment. And people are starting to pay for it.
Her Biggest Challenge
It’s not the work. It’s the silence.
Her parents still don’t talk to her. Her old friends from school unfollowed her after one post. She’s been called a “prostitute” by strangers on the street. A woman in a bakery once whispered to her child, “Don’t look at her.”
But here’s the thing: she doesn’t fight back. She doesn’t post rants. She just keeps showing up. At the club. At the studio. At the farmers market. She buys bread. She says hello. She smiles. And slowly, people start to see her-not as a label, but as a person.
What Comes Next
She’s working on a short film. Not a porn video. Not a documentary. A 12-minute narrative about a woman who walks home alone at 3 a.m. and isn’t afraid. She’s funding it herself. She’s casting other women from the scene. No actors. Just real voices.
She’s also opening a small studio space in the old industrial zone near Ostbahnhof. Just a room. With lights. A mirror. A sound system. And a sign that says: “This is not a stage. It’s a space.”
Kitty Core isn’t trying to be famous. She’s trying to be free. And in a city that’s still learning how to let women be more than just pretty faces, that’s the most radical thing she can do.
