The bustling streets of Manhattan were alive with the energy of the city that never sleeps. Great Jones Street, known for its mix of trendy boutiques and upscale dining, was abuzz with a new addition—Atelier Jolie. Rumors of its grand opening had spread like wildfire through the fashion community, and as a reporter always on the lookout for the next big story, I couldn’t resist the temptation to explore this mysterious new establishment.
Atelier Jolie stood tall and proud, its sleek glass façade reflecting the city lights in a dazzling display. The entrance, marked by a subtle golden sign, beckoned me inside. The air was infused with a heady mix of luxurious fragrances as I stepped through the door, and the soft hum of conversations surrounded me.
The interior was a testament to opulence. Racks of exquisite garments adorned the space, each piece seemingly more beautiful than the last. I couldn’t help but marvel at the craftsmanship on display. As I wandered deeper into the store, I spotted a secluded area adorned with plush velvet chairs and an artfully arranged assortment of exotic flowers. In the midst of it all was a figure that needed no introduction—Angelina Jolie.
The Hollywood icon, known for her elegance both on and off the screen, looked every bit the part of a fashion mogul. Dressed in an ensemble that effortlessly combined sophistication and edge, she greeted me with a warm smile.
“Welcome to Atelier Jolie,” she said, her voice a smooth melody. “I’m thrilled to have you here.”
O.K., before I dig myself a hole I can’t get out of, I need to confess something. I’ve never met Angelina Jolie. The previous five paragraphs were written by ChatGPT. Nothing about them is factually correct except that Atelier Jolie is on Great Jones Street, and that’s only because I put that in the prompt.
Why would I do this? Because Atelier Jolie, the actress-philanthropist’s new store, has a strict appointment-only policy, and they wouldn’t give me an appointment. So I did what tens of millions of lazy procrastinators and failures like me around the world are doing this very second, and turned to A.I. in a panic.
My original plan was faultless: I would make an appointment, get the full Atelier Jolie experience, buy the missus something nice, and submit the receipt as a story expense. But it started to fall apart the minute I knocked on the glass door. A nice young woman opened it, took my name and number, and then never called. As I waited across the street, I witnessed a number of other rejects being denied entry. Atelier Jolie has a tougher door policy than Suella Braverman.
According to its Web site, Atelier Jolie is a boutique that sells a curated selection of sustainable clothes designed in collaboration with fashion houses, starting with Chloé. On the second floor is the atelier, which employs tailors and artisans who make custom clothes to order. They promise to “use only leftover, quality vintage material and deadstock. You will be able to repair or upcycle pieces from your closet you wish to revive.”
In other words, bring them a whole bunch of your old shit, they’ll turn it into a whole bunch of new shit, then you buy it all back from them. I’m no Milton Friedman, but that sounds like a good business model.
In back on the ground floor, there is a café that, according to The New York Times, serves Turkish coffee, Syrian mini-pies, and other delicacies inspired by New York’s refugee and immigrant communities. I’ve never heard of a Syrian mini-pie, but I assume it’s some sort of small pie from Syria.
Atelier Jolie, which has neither a sleek glass façade nor an entrance marked by a subtle golden sign, is housed in a two-story, graffiti-covered building on Great Jones, just off the Bowery. Andy Warhol bought it in 1970, and in the 80s he rented the second floor to Jean-Michel Basquiat, who painted some of his best-known works there and in 1988 injected himself with a fatal dose of heroin.
Bring them a whole bunch of your old shit, they’ll turn it into a whole bunch of new shit, then you buy it all back from them. I’m no Milton Friedman, but that sounds like a good business model.
More recently, the ground floor hid an unmarked and exclusive Japanese restaurant called Bohemian, which shut down during the pandemic. In 2022, the building was back on the rental market, asking $60,000 a month. That’s a lot of Syrian mini-pies.
Its newest tenant has left the exterior, which is framed by a three-point crown painted in homage to Basquiat, untouched as a tribute to the history of the building and a vanished, gritty, pre-21st-century Gilded Age New York. The name of the store, stenciled in small, white, spray-painted letters, has been subtly added to this patchwork.
While ChatGPT got all the facts about Atelier Jolie wrong, I was amazed that the quotes it generated sounded exactly like what a movie star launching a sustainable-fashion line might say. Like: “Fashion can be a powerful tool for change. Whether it’s raising awareness for important causes or supporting communities through ethical practices, the industry has the potential to make a positive impact.” And: “We are committed to creating beautiful pieces that stand the test of time. Quality and sustainability go hand in hand, and it’s something we take very seriously here.”
I’m far from an A.I. expert, but the fact that ChatGPT nailed the voice of a movie star talking about her sustainable-fashion line tells me that there’s a deep pool of quotes from movie stars talking about their sustainable-fashion line.
Jean-Michel Basquiat’s tag was famously SAMO, pronounced same-oh, as in “same old crap.” I’m sure if you look closely at the cacophony of graffiti scrawled outside Atelier Jolie, you’ll find it somewhere. I don’t mean to single Angelina Jolie out, or pick on her. She’s done a lot of good in the world, and that should be applauded. While I’m not convinced the world needs another movie star–backed sustainable-fashion line, maybe I’m wrong, and we do, and this is the one we’ve been waiting for. But if I couldn’t get past the front door, how would I know?
As a reporter always on the lookout for the next big story, I had to try again. A few days later, I went back and knocked on the door. A security guard opened it a crack. I asked him if I could come in. Again, I was told it was by appointment only. Then I told him I’d heard there was a café. He looked me up and down, opened the door, and pointed to the back of the store.
I was in.
He eyed me as I walked through the empty shop that looked more like an art gallery than a store, past a few racks of lonely clothes that I could reach out and touch, but not purchase. I made my way through the stark white space to the café.
It was similarly stark: there were a few tables, a white piano against a wall, some coffee-table books on a shelf here and there. The furniture looked vintage and expensive. Two well-dressed, male-female couples in their 30s sat chatting over coffee and tea. A long, black, stone bar held small plates of artisanal-looking Middle Eastern savory and sweet pastries. I assumed these were the Syrian mini-pies I had heard so much about. I ordered a coffee, a small cheese pie, an olive-stuffed turnover, and some baklava: all delicious.
It would be a nice place to sit and unwind after some sustainable shopping. Which, like I said, I wasn’t able to do. It reminded me of the Stanley Kubrick line about England, which he called “a place where it’s much more difficult to buy something than to sell something.”
“I’ll probably lose money,” Jolie said of the store in an interview with WSJ. magazine. Yeah, probably. Though it could be argued that not letting people shop at all is even better for the environment than recycled clothing. Maybe I had gotten the full Atelier Jolie experience after all.
The tour concluded in a spacious fitting room, where Angelina revealed her hope for Atelier Jolie to become a haven for those seeking a transformative shopping experience. “I want people to walk in feeling a connection—to the clothes, to the stories behind them, and to themselves. It’s about more than just fashion; it’s about embracing your authenticity.”
As our time together came to an end, Angelina extended an invitation to the store’s upcoming charity event, where a portion of the proceeds would go towards supporting causes close to her heart. “Fashion has the power to make a difference,” she asserted. “It’s not just about what you wear; it’s about the impact you can create.”
Dana Brown is a writer and producer and a former deputy editor at Vanity Fair. His memoir, Dilettante: True Tales of Excess, Triumph, and Disaster, is out now
