Don't Visit the Basement Or You Might Wet Your Pants

I love articles that start out by telling you that they're not going to be any good (The Independent).  That gives me an excuse to not read them.  But I soldiered on through Tracey Emin's hang-over noodlings because I wanted to see what she said about the Chelsea.  And boy am I glad I did. Turns out that after a party at the Chelsea, she and her friends decided to explore the basement.  God  knows what they did down there, but now it's permanently locked at night, with signs posted saying that's the new policy. We were wondering what brought that about.  Thanks for the info Tracey.  But really, what the hell went on down there?
On Saturday night, my New York gallery, Lehmann Maupin, held a dinner for me. I sat next to two of my favourite men - Hamish McAlpine and Julian Schnabel. It was a really cool dinner and I stayed sober. Well, sober enough to go to Phil Collins' party. (That' s Phil Collins the artist, not Phil Collins the musician). Mad nutty party in a suite in the Chelsea Hotel. Dancing until 4.30am. The grand finale, finding ourselves lost in the basement of the hotel. It was really scary. Like a scene out of Most Haunted. But I managed to stay calm and serene among the pipes and the ghosts - that's because I was reasonably sober. Any other time, I think I would have wet myself. That's what people do when they are really afraid. They wet themselves. (Source: The Independent, March 17, 2006, Tracy Emin)