The Chelsea Hotel is, for me, a truly magical place. Clement C. Moore, author of
"T'was the Night Before Christmas," developed the land it was built on,
countless famous nut-jobs lived there over the years (Sid and Nancy, Patti Smith, Andy Warhol) and in the summer of 2002, I actually attended an orgy in one of its ratty old suites. There were three other "adult-themed gatherings" on the third floor alone that night.
In this fantasy shoot, Bob Coulter captures and comments on the hotel's
legacy of over-the-top decadence. In reality, hookers may not look like
Keira Knightley's slutty older sister, but that is why we love a little creative license. For the next little while, let's imagine a
world where prostitutes-cum-supermodels await good-looking young johns while dressed only in stockings, garter belts and fur coats. They share a sweaty clinch in a bed festooned with cash. Then, after sex, they ruminate upon the evening's events in the brisk dawn air with a Gauloise, wearing only a leather jacket and a pair of fishnets. Coulter presents us with a glorious pictorial equivalent of a Penthouse Forum letter. And like Moore, he tells a super-saturated, larger-than-life story. — Grant Stoddard
