This interview was originally reported in October 2024 for a journalism course at the Fashion Institute of Technology.
I first heard about Kevin Carpet at a 2019 New School dorm party. I learned that he was carpeting at Lola’s, a now-closed bar. During my two semesters, I kept hearing stories about college girls stomping on an old man wrapped in carpet during their underaged escapades to Lower East Side bars.
My first time at Singers, I saw Kevin. My friends & I had walked into the backyard for their third annual Halloween party, when I sensed the ground felt oddly cylindrical. I whispered, “I think that’s Kevin Carpet,” and delicately stepped on the unusual obstacle. “He says it’s not a fetish, but I’m not so sure,” I joked, unaware he’d heard me. I made my way into the dark, damp yard, to see Singers’ social media coordinator performing analingus on a makeshift stage.
Later, Kevin, sans carpet, pulled me aside to apologize if he’d made me uncomfortable. I reassured him there were no worries—after all, we had been mutuals on Instagram for a while!
If you aren’t familiar, Kevin Carpet, a self-described performance artist, has spent four decades inviting partiers to step on him—wrapped in carpet or otherwise. He’s a legend amongst partygoers in NYC. Meeting Kevin—keeping both his last name & age anonymous—felt like encountering a slice of New York’s oddball, dwindling energy. When we met at Singers this past Sunday, he brought a binder stuffed with Kevin Carpet memorabilia: Village Voice comic strips inspired by him, party guest lists from his door work, and four decades of photos.
In 2023, Kevin revealed his semi-retirement via Instagram, with the exception of Singers’ Halloween party & their Twinks vs. Dolls pride event. It makes sense why someone old enough to collect social security would step back from such a strenuous role. Kevin often mentions his recovery routine, mostly entailing mall massage chairs—not nearly enough after being crushed by hundreds.
When asked about retiring, Kevin said it wasn’t the physical toll, but the post-pandemic party culture. “I had like, three different people say, ‘I’m having my birthday, I want you to carpet.’” He explained, “Then, few hours later, ‘I’m sorry, my friends aren’t comfortable.’ That was new. I thought, ‘maybe it’s run its course.’” Despite this, Kevin has remained a fixture, still being recognized by celebrities ranging from Madonna to Jeffree Star, while sending me videos of himself getting trampled in various places—whether at a Qdoba in New Jersey, or Le Bain for one of the seven NYFW events he attended this fall. “My favorite things are carpeting, music, and gambling. I go to Atlantic City like once a week.”
As classic New York nightlife figures like Kevin fade away due to gentrification & time, will the city lose the vibrant vitality it’s known for? With rising costs and growing yuppie culture pushing out those who nurture its artistic spirit, can New York continue to support the outlandishness that created icons like Kevin Carpet?
Kevin lives off a trust set up by his father, a lawyer at Universal, and has never had to work a traditional job. In the ‘80s, he was hired as a doorman at The Peppermint Lounge after being mistaken for security. His height helped. Guests began asking him for directions to the bathroom, and by night’s end, the manager offered him a job.
While attending NYU Tisch, an acting assignment required him to act as an object. Naturally, Kevin chose the floor at Trash & Vaudeville, a St. Marks clothing store. “I thought it was interesting, lying there while people walked back & forth like I wasn’t there.” This is where Kevin’s two worlds—nightlife & theater—began to coalesce. On his nights off, he would visit clubs asking to carpet. Thanks to his door work connections, they reluctantly obliged. “Then other places wanted me,” he explained. Now, most nightlife employees know him, so he carpets wherever he likes. Kevin shared, “These kids in their twenties tell their parents they saw me. Their parents say, ‘Oh my god! I know Kevin Carpet, I stepped on him at the Limelight!’”
Another human carpeter, Georgio, is open about his forniphilia (human furniture fetish) and foot affinity. “I like him, It’s not a bad thing, but Georgio likes feet & heels.” When I asked him what the appeal of carpeting was, if not kink, he reiterated that he doesn’t get off to it. “I hate pain… I don’t jerk off… But after six or seven hours [carpeting], whew, I feel relaxed for days.” Kevin insists that his human carpeting isn’t a kink. Additionally, one could say this calm state resembles subspace—a “trancelike state some submissives experience during BDSM,” as defined by sex-author Gabrielle Smith at Healthline. For some, this headspace is more important than achieving orgasm. Kevin asserts his work is performance art, not kink. He clearly enjoys the recognition. Carpeting grants him access to exclusive events without the pressure of small talk. And, although his reserved demeanor may imply otherwise—he often shows me a photo of his most recent ex from thirty years ago—I take him at his word. Kevin says, “If you get any notoriety, you’ll get haters.”
Whether Kevin’s carpeting is performance art or something deeper, his impact on New York’s nightlife is undeniable. For over four decades, he has been an underground icon, embodying the city’s eccentric energy. While younger generations may question his reasons, Kevin is satisfied in his role & doesn’t foresee human carpeting continuing in nightlife: “The way the world is now, I don’t think anyone could really do this like I did…I set everything up perfectly, [with someone else] the owner could say it’s a liability.” One thing is clear: there will always be a place for Kevin Carpet in New York, even lying underfoot.
Leave a Reply