How Do People Get To Be This Cool?
Reading the NY Times today in the mid April sunlight, I learned about a guy who sounds like the coolest man who ever roamed the earth. His name is Andre...and he holds hip after-parties for artists and other 'in' people. He was profiled by a fawning Julia Chapin.
"Mr. Saraiva, who is soft-spoken and flirtatious, seems to know almost everyone in the international fashion-art orbit. New acquaintances instantly become confidants. If he sees artists standing awkwardly on the sidelines of one of his clubs or at an art opening, he’ll swoop in, bestow them with a drink and lead them by the wrist to the safety of a V.I.P. room or a clutch of interesting people. A bond is formed.
“André has a MySpace quality,” said Olivier Zahm, the editor of the magazine Purple Fashion. “He makes friends instantly and then his new friends become your friends. It’s a big magic.”
All of which seems to serve him well in a world based on social alliances, the bartering of cool and a plumped-up contact list. “I don’t have to buy art,” Mr. Saraiva said. “My friends just give me work.”
In return — he says he has pieces by Dash Snow, Dan Colen and Sophie Calle — he lets the artists stay at the Hôtel Amour and drink free at his clubs. “So it works out,” he said. Part of his charm is that he avoids many of the tackier tricks of the club trade. “We have no bankers backing us,” Mr. Saraiva said. “We don’t use p.r.” His places have a certain punk glamour, with worn red carpets and upholstery that is covered with beer stains and cigarette burns, as if to ward off those with platinum credit cards and collagen lips.
At Le Baron in Paris, a former strip club, artists are employed as doormen and D.J.’s. Fashion models are turned away, as are soccer stars and bankers.
“Mostly, models are cheesy and stupid,” Mr. Saraiva said. “They show up with tacky men who think they are kings of the world because they have a driver and expensive clothes. A guy that looks like a bum is more likely to get into one of my places.”
But there must have been models in his clubs during Fashion Week? Mr. Saraiva smiled mischievously. “Yes, but those ones are our friends.”
"Mr. Saraiva, who is soft-spoken and flirtatious, seems to know almost everyone in the international fashion-art orbit. New acquaintances instantly become confidants. If he sees artists standing awkwardly on the sidelines of one of his clubs or at an art opening, he’ll swoop in, bestow them with a drink and lead them by the wrist to the safety of a V.I.P. room or a clutch of interesting people. A bond is formed.
“André has a MySpace quality,” said Olivier Zahm, the editor of the magazine Purple Fashion. “He makes friends instantly and then his new friends become your friends. It’s a big magic.”
All of which seems to serve him well in a world based on social alliances, the bartering of cool and a plumped-up contact list. “I don’t have to buy art,” Mr. Saraiva said. “My friends just give me work.”
In return — he says he has pieces by Dash Snow, Dan Colen and Sophie Calle — he lets the artists stay at the Hôtel Amour and drink free at his clubs. “So it works out,” he said. Part of his charm is that he avoids many of the tackier tricks of the club trade. “We have no bankers backing us,” Mr. Saraiva said. “We don’t use p.r.” His places have a certain punk glamour, with worn red carpets and upholstery that is covered with beer stains and cigarette burns, as if to ward off those with platinum credit cards and collagen lips.
At Le Baron in Paris, a former strip club, artists are employed as doormen and D.J.’s. Fashion models are turned away, as are soccer stars and bankers.
“Mostly, models are cheesy and stupid,” Mr. Saraiva said. “They show up with tacky men who think they are kings of the world because they have a driver and expensive clothes. A guy that looks like a bum is more likely to get into one of my places.”
But there must have been models in his clubs during Fashion Week? Mr. Saraiva smiled mischievously. “Yes, but those ones are our friends.”
Labels: Andre Saraiva
posted by Max Hartshorne at 6:12 PM
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