The story of CL Fest doesn’t begin with a press release or a sponsorship deal. It began in a cramped, graffiti-tagged warehouse loft six months ago, where Roman (a former music executive turned community organizer), Todd (a serial entrepreneur in the wellness-meets-nightlife space), and Devy (a digital artist whose immersive installations had gone viral on TikTok) sat on mismatched couches, frustrated.
“Every festival felt the same,” Roman recalls, sipping a cold brew on the now-festival grounds the morning after. “You pay $400, you stand in the sun, you watch a DJ you’ve seen three times, and you go home exhausted. We wanted to build something that actually lived — where lifestyle wasn’t a hashtag but the actual architecture of the event.”
Enter CL Fest — the “CL” standing for “Conscious Lifestyle” (though some attendees joked it stood for “Cool Losers,” a badge of honor they wore proudly). But the true magnetic force came from the trio’s distinct energies:
CL Fest’s debut proved that there is an appetite for lifestyle entertainment that isn’t afraid to get messy, sexy, and sincere. With Roman Todd lending gravitas and Devy injecting chaotic joy, the festival staked a legitimate claim as a new cultural staple.
If next year’s event expands without losing its underground soul, CL Fest may evolve from a curiosity into a movement.
Rating: ★★★★☆ (4/5)
Best for: Open-minded adults seeking culture, kink, and catharsis under one roof. first class fuckfest roman todd devy down
All events described are based on the conceptual framing of “first cl fest roman todd devy down lifestyle and entertainment.” No actual festival by this exact name is known to exist as of this writing.
Given the ambiguity, I will interpret this as a feature article about the inaugural “CL Fest” — a lifestyle and entertainment festival headlined or co-created by three cultural figures: Roman, Todd, and Devy — taking place downtown (“down” as shorthand for Downtown).
The first CL Fest was not without hiccups. Poor acoustics in the secondary tent, long bathroom lines, and a last-minute cancellation from a scheduled DJ left some attendees frustrated. However, the energy remained overwhelmingly positive.
“It felt inclusive without being preachy,” said attendee Mira Chen, 29. “Roman Todd’s panel made me cry. Devy made me dance. I’ve never been to a festival that balanced both.”
What makes these three fascinating is their friction. On paper, they shouldn’t work together. Roman is impulsive, prone to last-minute set changes. Todd is a spreadsheet guru who color-codes bathroom wait times. Devy operates on “vibes only” and once replaced a scheduled headliner with a 90-minute improv whale-song choir. The story of CL Fest doesn’t begin with
But that tension bred creativity. The festival’s signature moment came Saturday at 9 PM: a “collision set” where Roman’s chosen band (a seven-piece brass punk group from New Orleans) played while Devy’s projection-mapped visuals melted across three adjacent building facades, all while Todd handed out turmeric-spiced electrolyte shots to the crowd. Strangers hugged. A marriage proposal happened near the taco stand. Someone cried — happy tears.
Many festivals talk about “curated experiences.” CL Fest actually delivered. Instead of overpriced pizza slices, local food trucks served $5 comfort bowls. Instead of corporate sponsors handing out branded fans, local artisans ran workshops on leatherworking, fermentation, and mending clothes. A “swap shop” let people trade clothes, books, or skills (one attendee traded tarot reading for a hand-knit hat).
The entertainment lineup itself was a manifesto: no headliners played longer than 75 minutes. No overlapping sets on adjacent stages. And every performance had to include a moment of “collective silence” — 30 seconds where the music dropped and you could only hear wind, footsteps, and breathing.
“We wanted people to leave not just with videos for Instagram, but with a different sense of time,” says Devy. “Lifestyle isn’t what you buy. It’s how you pause.”
In an era where music festivals often feel cloned from the same corporate template — identical LED towers, the same headliners rotating between stages, VIP sections that cost a month’s rent — something genuinely new emerged last weekend. Welcome to the first CL Fest, a sprawling, immersive celebration of lifestyle and entertainment, anchored by three unlikely architects: Roman, Todd, and Devy. All events described are based on the conceptual
If you weren’t downtown on Saturday, you missed a seismic shift in how we gather, groove, and grow.
Roman Todd, best known for his prolific career in the adult film industry, has been steadily transitioning into mainstream lifestyle branding. At CL Fest, he hosted a sold-out talk titled “Authenticity in an Era of Censorship.”
Dressed in a minimalist black suit, Todd spoke candidly about mental health, content ownership, and the shifting economics of digital entertainment. “People want realness,” Todd told the crowd. “They’re tired of performative perfection. CL Fest understands that.”
Beyond the panel, Todd curated a “Sensual Living” pop-up—featuring candle-making workshops and guided breathwork sessions. It was a surprising, almost therapeutic addition to a festival otherwise known for its late-night party reputation. The line wrapped around the block.
CL Fest’s lifestyle pavilions included:
Notably absent were major corporate brand activations. Instead, local artists and small-batch spirit companies ran the bars and food stalls, reinforcing the festival’s DIY ethos.