“And China Chalet is not cool, which is why it’s great.”
On a balmy Thursday last month, it held an issue release party for The Journal, a glossy art quarterly based in Williamsburg. In the main dining room, which was covered in chintzy floral carpet and pagoda paintings, young women with bright red lipstick and high-waisted pants squeezed seven or eight to a table. Artists like Ari Marcopoulos, Aurel Schmidt and Rita Ackermann milled about. In the back room, disco balls were hung next to gaudy chandeliers, and D.J.’s played a mix of Rihanna, New Order and Prodigy.
It was as if New York’s art world had been transported to a Holiday Inn in the Midwest. “I’m so tired of places that are cool,” said Michael Nevin, The Journal’s lanky editor, who was clad head-to-toe in white. “And China Chalet is not cool, which is why it’s great.”
“For what it’s worth: it’s never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There’s no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you’re proud of. If you find that you’re not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again.”—F. Scott Fitzgerald (via uhhleeese)