For those of us who move to Berlin with artistic (or party-loving) aspirations, we often find ourselves experiencing a similar story. It usually starts like this: you visit the city with friends to explore its vibrant nightlife, get lost in the countless club options, and at some point during that weekend, you feel like the universe is aligning in your favor. You start to believe that Berlin is calling you to stay. For some, it’s a fulfilling decision; for others, it turns into a bittersweet chapter in their lives. And for a few, it’s just a temporary rush, fueled by the wild freedom of a weekend in this liberal oasis. Some return home on Monday, their excitement fading and its turn blue, while others take the leap and move to the German capital. What unites them all is this: Berlin isn’t easy, but losing yourself in it sure is.
This is how the project of Sabrina Jeblaoui was born, a photographer who has been reflecting the reality of those living here through her photos and interviews for years. Initially taking pictures outside Berghain as an experiment, today her project NachtClubsBerlin has become an essential guide for those deciding to move to the techno capital. At Peachz, we tell you about her beginnings, motivations, and future projects.
Sabrina, like many, arrived in the city with more doubts than certainties. And when you combine that with a desire to explore Berlin’s nightlife, the overall outcome is often not very hopeful. Falling into that routine can be quite easy: excesses on the weekend, returning to a work you don’t like, and waiting for the next weekend. Some people spend years in that vicious circle, but Sabrina managed to break it in just a few months. She chose to slow down from that lifestyle, which allowed her to finally pursue what she had always wanted: photography.
Here is where Sabrina stands out. Not only did she manage to distance herself from excesses, but she also found a more meaningful way to remain in a place she still held dear—the Berlin nightlife scene. And so, she decisively set off on a Sunday morning to Berghain, camera hanging from her neck and a friend by her side. Sabrina was of course nervous about the first time, so it made sense to have the support of someone close to her.
She began to talk to the people she wanted to photograph, and things started to take shape. Her technique is both effective and sincere. She allows herself to be vulnerable so that those she photographs can also be vulnerable, because at the end of the day, and in her own words, it is all about energies.
Sabrina observes that, in club culture, many people strive to break free from stereotypes and express their individuality. Yet, in doing so, they often end up embracing certain trends and behaviors that create a sense of uniformity. In contrast, the NachtClubsBerlin project highlights the rich diversity and uniqueness of each person within this vibrant scene. Full of diversity, characters, stories, and colors, it speaks to all of us who have lived through the excesses of the German capital. For Sabrina, this project reflects her emotions and thoughts, but they come to life in the reality of others. The camera connects her with those she interviews and/or photographs.
While one could spend hours browsing the NachtClubsBerlin Instagram, some stories stand out or simply resonate deeper than others. One of them is the story of Nicholas, who shares how he managed to overcome his GHB addiction (also known as G), a drug that works as a sedative, anxiolytic, and sexual stimulant. This substance is becoming increasingly common in Berlin's kinky scene, and little is known about its deadly long-term consequences. Nicholas recounts that the turning point for him was the tragic death of his brother due to fentanyl overdose, news he received just seconds before he relapsed into using G. Since that day, his habits completely shifted.
Tragic stories like Nicholas’s are abundant in Berlin and NachtClubsBerlin reflects moments of excess and difficult decisions that can not easily be judged. But her Instagram serves as a reminder for those of us who’ve experienced similar challenges, offering a thoughtful guide to self-care for those considering to move to Berlin.
Frequencies with: Sabrina Jeblaoui
Here’s what we discussed with Sabrina Jeblaoui about her project NachtClubsBerlin:
C: What was the moment that you decided to change your nightlife style?
S: I had a rough start in life. My parents were drug addicts and dealers, so I grew up with them until I was four. After that, I went to an institution for a year and a half and then moved to a foster family. By 13, I started drinking alcohol and then smoking cigarettes. I was overdoing everything, trying to escape my emotions due to trauma. When I was partying a lot, I started realizing I was making the same mistakes my parents made. I’d see them at the club while I was high, and it was a moment of self-realization—I thought, "Oh my God, you’re doing exactly the same thing." Over time, though, it just became normal. People using drugs, getting caught in the same cycles—it becomes routine. This experience shaped my life, and it's why this topic of drug prevention is so important to me.
C: Did you stop consuming drugs, or did you stop partying altogether?
S: It was a progressive change so I started going to fewer parties. I also realized that I came to Berlin to be an artist, to become a photographer—not to party and do drugs every weekend. So I decided to step away from the club scene. I still connected with it by taking photos outside the clubs, but I didn’t participate in the same way.
C: You mention that the search for freedom through drug use can lead to an illusion of freedom. How has this affected you personally and as a photographer?
S: The role of drugs in Berlin’s club culture is complicated. When I first came to Berlin, it felt like an escape—both in a positive and negative way. Drugs seemed to offer a form of freedom, but in reality, they only created an illusion of freedom. Personally, I struggled with this, especially because I was using substances to escape my emotions. As a photographer, I’ve wanted to capture not just the euphoria, but also the vulnerability and the aftermath of this lifestyle.
C: Can you separate the drugs from the nightlife in a city like Berlin?
S: I’ve gone to parties sober, and you can really feel the difference in the energy. People are on a completely different vibration when they’re sober. But I also have to acknowledge that I learned a lot through my experiences with drugs. I’m actually grateful for that exploration because it helped me connect with my spirit and understand the world on a deeper level. I learned many valuable lessons.
However, the downside is that you don’t realize how fast time passes. You get stuck in a cycle—working a job you don’t enjoy just to pay the bills, then spending every weekend partying. Time moves faster and faster, and you start feeling more anxious. Eventually, I was panicking, stuck in this loop, constantly waiting for the next party. It becomes overwhelming, and you can lose sight of yourself.
C: Do you have any upcoming projects focused on drug awareness?
S: I don’t really plan too much in advance. One idea I’ve been thinking about is creating a sober community where people can connect with others who are on the same journey. The problem is that many people want to stop using drugs, but all their friends are still using, so they feel pressured to fit in. A sober community would help people meet others who want to stay sober, whether they want to go to clubs together or simply connect in ways that support their recovery. It’s about creating spaces where people don’t feel isolated.
C: What was the motivation behind transforming this project from a photographic one into videos and interviews?
S: After taking over 400 photos outside the clubs, I started feeling frustrated and during COVID, the strict vaccine rules really bothered me. The club scene, which had always felt like a place of freedom, suddenly seemed hypocritical and fake. It felt wrong to continue in the same way, so I decided to step back. Luckily I started focusing more on personal growth and therapy, and I got into coaching. Through this process, I realized I wanted to help people share their deeper stories. I didn’t want to just keep photographing people leaving the clubs—I wanted to capture more meaningful, personal conversations. So I transitioned to making videos and doing interviews.
C: How did you approach these video interviews and what were some challenges you faced?
S: I wanted to dig deeper, so I began scheduling interviews with people I knew—those I felt could offer a more meaningful conversation, since sometimes people are reluctant to be interviewed on camera. But I have this intuition—I know when someone is open to talk. If they say they don’t like being on camera, I assure them that it’s gonna be okay. I know how to make people feel comfortable. Once they’re at ease, the interview feels more natural, and I can get the depth I’m looking for. For me, the key is connection. Because of my own trauma, I’ve always felt lonely, and this project is my way of deeply connecting with people, even if it’s just for a few minutes.
C: How have people reacted to the interviews you’ve done about drug abuse and the club scene?
S: The reactions are mixed. On Instagram, people are very open to discussing these topics. Some are grateful that someone is talking about it, while others might feel uncomfortable or defensive. I think it’s important to create a space where people can express their stories without judgment. It’s a way to open up the conversation about issues that are often swept under the rug.
C: You’ve captured both the euphoria of people entering the clubs and the exhaustion they experience when leaving. What are your thoughts on this contrast?
S: When I take photos of people leaving the clubs, sometimes they seem more relaxed and joyful. There’s a sense of playfulness, but at other times, they’re more vulnerable or tired. I like to play with these contrasting emotions in my photos. Sometimes I’ll make a joke or try to connect with them, and it reflects in the photos.
C: It seems like you’re creating an environment where people can be open. Do you think we’re in an era where it’s harder to lie or hide things anymore?
S: Yes, absolutely. We’re in a time where lying or hiding things has become much harder. It’s all about energies now. People are more open nowadays to be authentic and share their stories. They reflect that energy back to me and want to be part of my project. I also want to include stories about people who have been sexually abused. We’re all human, and we all have traumas—some of them really hard to carry. That’s what I think people connect with in my work. It’s not about gaining followers—it’s about sharing truth and connection.
C: Your project has already become a survival guide for many young people in this tough city. What’s the advice or the reflections people share with you that stand out, whether good or bad?
S: Coming to a city like Berlin isn’t an easy decision. Sometimes it’s really hard, because it forces you to face yourself and confront your darkness. You’ll dive deep into yourself, deal with your trauma, and start the healing process. But in the end, it’s worth it. Berlin isn’t the mainstream life. If you’re looking for that, maybe you should not come here. You’re going to confront the abyss of your soul, and that’s not easy. But it will make you stronger.
Berlin is a city that allows you to discover yourself, open your mind, and become more aware. But it can also swallow you up if you're not careful. I’ve seen people lose themselves
here and never come back. I’m proud of myself for getting out of that cycle.
