As a kid growing up in Upstate New York I was, from as early as I can remember, besotted with with the idea of fashion and the idea of living in New York City, probably because I saw in both the inherent possibility for transformation and reinvention – of oneself and one’s life - although at the time, my pre-teen self wouldn’t have been able to articulate my yearnings as such, and I fixated instead on the surface trappings of the pretty clothes I saw in magazines and the exciting, glamorous life that I imagined awaited in that glittering city that lay south of our sleepy little town.
One of my fondest memories of that period was curling up in a wicker chair in my parents’ leafy backyard – or in front of our fireplace in winter – to read Mary Cantwell’s column, “Eat,” which ran for nearly a decade in the now-defunct Mademoiselle magazine. Though ostensibly a food column (each essay ended with a recipe), “Eat” was, in fact, a highly evocative monthly snapshot of Cantwell’s life in the big city, and I happily followed along as the peripatetic editor moved, with two small daughters in tow, to various sublets in the far West Village (this was back when the area was still a high-minded literary, not a high-end retail, mecca). And, for a few short but highly memorable months one year, Cantwell & co. decamped to the legendary Chelsea Hotel on 23rd Street while awaiting renovation on the West Village brownstone she would inhabit for much of her later life.
Cantwell’s life at the Chelsea Hotel struck me, at the time, as being impossibly romantic, bohemian, artistic and glamorous - an impression that has stayed with me to this day, despite having now lived in Manhattan myself (Cantwell’s own West Village, in fact) for some 20-odd years.
So it was with great pleasure that I paged through Linda Troeller’s book, “Atmosphere: An Artist’s Memoir of the Chelsea Hotel,” a collection of photo essays of stylish, artistic-minded individuals who seem to be as enamored of the possibilities afforded by life in New York City – and at the Chelsea Hotel, in particular - as I was so many years ago. After all, the Chelsea, which was originally built back in 1884, has been home, at one time or another, to Sarah Bernhardt, O. Henry, Mark Twain, Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, Patti Smith, Robert Mapplethorpe, William Burroughs, Arthur Miller, Thomas Wolfe, Dylan Thomas, Andy Warhol, Eugene O’Neill, Marianne Faithfull, Black Sabbath, Robert Rauschenberg, Milos Forman, Leonard Cohen, Dee Dee Ramone and Sid Vicious, to name a few of the more well-known residents.
Each of Troeller’s images is accompanied by a letter – a mash note, really – addressed “Dear Chelsea Hotel,” in which the photo’s subject(s) share with us what it is they love about the Chelsea; what drew them there in the first place and what has kept them there all these years (for it seems that most residents who inhabit the Chelsea have lived there a long, long time and see no reason to ever move.)
In addition to the more expected artistic types (actors, writers, musicians, painters, etc.), quite a few of the hotel’s residents are fashion industry insiders, drawn by the eclectic mix of creative people, and the energy and buzz that come from communal living – for the Chelsea is nothing if not communal – all under the watchful eye of the hotel’s beloved longtime manager, Stanley Bard.
So here you’ll find “2001: A Space Odyssey” screenwriter Arthur C. Clarke talking about writing that movie in the Chelsea Hotel, pianist Bruce Levingston on practicing his piano en suite at 2 a.m., or artists Christo and Jean Claude sharing their memories of staying at the hotel in the early 60s, alongside photos of designer Zaldy and fashion muse Rufus Wainwright (the latter of whom no longer lives in the Chelsea but returns often to visit friends and see his dentist, who’s also a resident). Ethan Hawke was a recent habitué. Vogue Fashion Features Director, Sally Singer, lives here with her husband, the writer Joseph O’Neill, and their three sons, as does style icon/nightclub impresario Suzanne Bartsch and her husband, David Barton, with their young son.
The images themselves range from cozy portraits of domestic family life to moody shots of the hotel's denizens of the night (there's a club in the basement) to artsy shots of the Chelsea's more famous residents performing onstage or stalking its storied gothic hallways to cinematic scenes shot outside on the street to countless shots of artists, writers, cross-dressers, transients and notables in their rooms, boasting decor that ranges from surprisingly luxe to, errr...not so much.
The overriding impression is of a soulful haven that encourages (or, at least, tolerates) eccentricity, nurtures creativity, and inspires individuality. Is it any wonder, then, that nearly everyone featured in this book is as captivated by the Chelsea Hotel as I was as a teenager in rural New York?
More than anything, though, “Atmosphere” is one woman’s moving paean to the place that ignites her passion and feeds her dreams on a daily basis. Given that the Chelsea Hotel is now under new, more bottom-line-driven management, Troeller's book may be a swan song, of sorts, to the institution so many artists have called home. Reading it offers a unique insider’s perspective on living in a legendary residence that, for now at least, still favors creativity over capitalism.
“Atmosphere: An Artist’s Memoir of the Chelsea Hotel” ($29.95) can be purchased at http://lindatroeller.com.
Photos © Linda Troeller
