Coolhunting in CDMX
Despite the mucho amounts of mezcal I had imbibed the night before, I awoke feeling refreshed and ready for whatever Mexico City had in store. As fate would have it, Habitas had released a guide to Mexico City just a few weeks prior to my visit. MASA Galleria caught my eye most notably amongst the listings. I had made an appointment that afternoon to view the gallery, but first lunch.
I popped in into Enrique Olvera’s natural/local joint, Eno, for some chicken enchiladas and a tamal de cochinita. The enchilada was swimming decadently in a pool of verde salsa. The tamale was wrapped in a banana leaf and loaded with cilantro and pickled red onion. Both were perfectly executed traditional renditions. It’s quite nice that one can enjoy Olvera’s food quite easily outside of his infamous fine dining institution, Pujol.
Two years prior I had been lucky enough to score a last minute dinner reservation at Pujol. It was an absolute miracle. At the time I was not familiar with Pujol. A few friends had recommended I check it out on my last minute trip to CDMX. I had booked my flight the night before, and so all of my research was rather hurried. With no reservation I decided to pop into Pujol on my second night in town. I figured maybe I could score a last minute spot at the bar. Little did I know that there was no bar, and that it was the toughest reservation in the city.
I did my best to sweet talk the lovely hostess, but as charmed as she may have been, she could not accommodate my request. Apparently, one does not simply show up at Pujol for a last minute meal.
Just as I was about to throw in the towel, a debonair man with perfectly quaffed hair strolled in with his modelesque date.
“I have a reservation on Saturday that he can have,” he said casually to the hostess.
The hostess stood there in disbelief for a moment, as did I.
But it was true. He did have a reservation for that Saturday night, my last night in town. Later that week I showed up at Pujol only to be informed there was something wrong with my reservation. The hostess told me the reservation was for a different restaurant.
I nearly freaked as I suddenly grew hangry. I had fasted most of the day in anticipation of a multi-course meal. Thankfully I caught myself and after a few deep breaths, and an extended pause, the hostess informed me that the reservation was at the new Pujol. That magical debonair man had given me his Friends and Family reservation for the newly minted Pujol which would not be opening to the public for a few more weeks.
Needless to say, the meal was epic.
At one point I commented to a server that I loved another diner’s red sequined jacket.
“Sir,” he said. “Do you know who that is?”
I had no clue.
“That’s Metallica,” he informed me demurely.
Oh. Cool.
Anyway, this story is not about Pujol, so back to the matter at hand. After a delicious lunch at Eno I made way back to my Airbnb to meet up with my new friend, Jaclyn, whom I had befriend in a the hall of the Airbnb guesthouse earlier that day. It was Jaclyn’s last day in CDMX. She mentioned she was a graphic designer, and so I invited for her to join me at MASA.
Andy and Alia were also supposed to meet me at the gallery, but they had misremembered our appointment time and ended up going an hour earlier. They messaged me that they had breezed through the entire experience in just 15 minutes. I was kinda shocked. That seemed awful fast. I wondered if it was worth it to trek the 30 minutes west of Condesa to check it out, but I decided to carry on with my plan.
I am ever so thankful that I did. MASA was absolutely the art highlight of my entire visit to CDMX. Located in an glorious abandoned Art Deco mansion in the Lomas district, it was situated amongst many other fancy homes, all which had very tall walls surrounding them. Built in the 70s, the mansion’s red painted walls contained a variety of local Mexican designers and artists. It was the kind of magical place I often read about in The Cool Hunter, but never have a chance to see in person.
Jaclyn and I were greeted by Eric. He meticulously explained the backstories for nearly every piece of art within the home. He had been working the gallery for months. They had extended the show twice already, and it so happened that it was the very last day of the exhibit. Wow. How amazing to have barely caught such a fleeting transcendent glimpse into Mexico City’s art scene.
Eric was quite friendly and soon he asked if we would some mezcal. Not one to say no to mezcal, of course I accepted his generous offer. We retired to the garden where we lounged in giant marble chairs that resembled ruins from an alien civilization.
We sat there enjoying the beautiful afternoon shooting the shit as butterflies fluttered by and the trees gently swayed above us.
By the time we left the gallery a few hours later I had made a new friend. I invited Eric to come visit Los Angeles. I also told him of my goal to host an art show in CDMX within the coming year. The synchronicities were kicking in again. The magic of Mexico City was unrelenting.
The exhibit was incredible. If you’re interested in learning more about MASA you can see and read more about it here.
