Nick Supreda on a kingdom of pulse and purpose

Time Out

19 hours ago

I'm sitting inside the bar that isn't quite finished. There's no sharp scent of fresh paint clinging to the air, but there're chairs – mid-century in ambition but scuffed just enough to feel like they've lived – scattered like punctuation marks. In the centre of it all is a transparent DJ booth, looking more like an art installation than a workspace, glowing faintly in the late afternoon light. I'm sitting with one camera man, opposite Nick Supreda with a list of questions folded in my palm and the sense that I've arrived mid-thought, not at the beginning of anything.
Raised in Southern California by aunts who taught him the value of taste and autonomy, Nick returned to Bangkok after college and built something between a movement and a myth. With music, nightlife and fashion as his language, he's turned subculture into infrastructure – founding Blaq Lyte and more recently, Bloq, a new bar in Thonglor that feels like a blueprint.
We're here, in the almost-finished glow of his latest creation, to talk about Thonglor – his kingdom of contradictions. The place where meetings dissolve into midnight sets, where hype meets heritage and where the future of Bangkok's creative class continues to quietly unfold.
All bright lights and quiet blueprints
'Thonglor has this unexplainable charge – it's like a magnet for ambition and chaos,' he says, lifting his glass without sipping it. 'It's the only place I've found where business meetings turn into afterparties and random nights turn into new ventures.'
It's not just noise, though. Beneath Thonglor's reputation – the gaudy storefronts, the thudding basslines – is a quieter code of intention.
If you're not real, people feel it fast. The creativity here is competitive – and that keeps me sharp.
'People see the nightlife, but they don't always catch the culture. There's an unspoken code here – creative minds moving quietly, businesses being built in the back corners of bars,' he explains. 'Beneath the chaos, there's craft.'
Nick doesn't just live in Thonglor, he studies it. Every street stall, every pop-up gallery, every late-night DJ set is a beat in a larger rhythm. 'It taught me how to blend street energy with sharp branding,' he says.
Blaq Lyte, balance and the art of the reset
At the core of Nick's empire is Blaq Lyte – more than a brand but something close to both. It began, as many things do, from a refusal to wait for permission.
'I saw a gap – before, not many people throwing events that mixed international flair with Thai soul, so I did it myself,' he shrugs. 'I was going to parties alone out here, seeing how music, energy and visuals could create a world people wanted to live in.'
Now, that world is tangible. A collective, a club, a bar, a digital playground. But even as it grows, the intention remains fixed.
'Balance is the game. We party with purpose. Every Blaq Lyte night looks like fun, but there's intention behind it – from the music to the design to the people we let through the door,' he says.
'If we ever lose the 'why' behind it all, we stop. Reset. That's how we stay grounded.'
It's not about being louder than the new spots popping up weekly. It's about being rooted.
Bangkok moves quick, and staying alive isn't about being louder – it's about staying true while adapting fast,' he adds. 'That takes time, and sometimes, sacrifice.'
Southern California, streetwear and the soul of Auntys Haus
Nick's earliest lessons in taste and tact didn't come from nightclubs or business meetings – they came from his aunts.
'They had style, they had opinions, and they ran things on their terms,' he smiles. 'That taught me to trust my eye, build things that look and feel like me, and not to play it safe.'
That spirit lives on in Auntys Haus – his streetwear label with a soul. Less brand, more philosophy, it's fashion as message: playful, resistant, unafraid.
'With Auntys Haus, we're creating pieces that say something about identity, care, resistance,' he says.
'It's wearable culture – and it ties into everything we do, from the music to the foundation. It all loops back to building community.'
There's no confusion about aesthetics here – just a quiet assertion of taste. The same one he inherited, honed and stitched into every corner of his creative output.
The 32 Foundation and giving shape to purpose
For all the light Blaq Lyte throws on Thonglor's nights, the 32 Foundation works quietly in the background, redirecting nightlife profits toward orphanages and youth empowerment projects.
'From the beginning, I knew if I had a platform, I had a responsibility,' Nick says. 'Giving back became real for me when I saw how nightlife can change lives – not just with music, but with action.'
He talks about impact with the same measured precision he brings to curating a lineup. It's clear this was never just about parties. The Foundation – paused briefly but now back in motion – is proof of that.
'Right now, I'm focused on building on what's in front of me – so my company's not just in nightlife, but in impact,' he says.
'We're building new ways to empower youth through creativity. The fire's still there – just burning smarter now.'
It's not about redemption. It's about responsibility.
Youth, nightlife and the future of a city
'Nightlife gives young people a space to experiment – with identity, with sound, with ideas,' he says. 'I see people expressing themselves – dressing how they want, acting without shame. I don't see that in most places in Bangkok.'
That spirit – fearless, erratic, unapologetic – is what Nick believes will push Bangkok forward. And it's already happening, in shadowy corners and packed basements.
'Creative spaces like Blaq Lyte venues give them the room to find their people and their purpose. That's culture in motion.'
The term 'subculture' doesn't sit quite right anymore. What Nick is cultivating feels bigger than that – more porous, less defined by edges.
'We don't follow trends – we study patterns. We know what our vision is, what creatives are playing with, and we flip it in our own way.'
he says. 'We're not for everyone – we'd rather mean everything to the right people.'
As Bangkok speeds forward, shedding trends as quickly as it picks them up, Nick Supreda holds the line between vision and velocity. His version of Thonglor isn't one of VIP tables or Instagram-ready drinks. It's the backroom conversations, the bootstrapped ideas, the quiet moments that build a scene from the inside out.
In a city where creative spaces are often devoured by real estate and routine, Nick's work is a reminder that purpose still has a place – and it can look like a party.