Los Angeles. 10 years ago. 2014, November. Maybe it was 2015. Nelson Campbell, may be rest in peace, had a house on the canal in Venice Beach. In 2014 and 2015 I stayed a few weeks at Nelson’s home as his guest during the colder NYC winter months. Nelson liked to share. He shared his home. His time. His clothes. To those who knew him, Nelson was a magnet for people of all of life, and he welcomed everyone in. Some people took advantage of his generosity, sadly, but there were also a few who were in his orbit who I’ve found to be some of the best of the best out there.

Nelson would get hungry and book a table at a restaurant and somehow that table would grow from just a few to party taking up the whole restaurant. And that’s how I met Jon Gray. Some Italian restaurant in Santa Monica or Venice of some purgatory block in between, Nelson booked a table, and we rolled through the front door as a party of fifteen people (likely more).

I don’t remember anything else about that night. I know the food was good. I probably had too much wine. I remember than Nelson paid the bill, which made me feel uncomfortable. I don’t know how much I spoke with Jon, but I remember this person surprising me like very few people had before. And that’s it. I never really saw Jon again after that. But that’s how these things go, I guess.

Wait. Ok, so obviously I saw Jon again. I was just trying to build a bit of drama. It must have been in Paris or NYC. See, Jon is big. He can’t enter a place without you noticing him. He’s not just a tall dude, but he has a presence. The mass of his presence far exceeds his literal mass. I’m going to just say it was at a Rick Owens show, which is probably correct, but also very likely probably totally incorrect. But let’s say Jon walks into a Rick Owens show at Palais de Tokyo. A man whom I have not seen for the better part of a decade, and whom I very likely only met once. But I remember him better than people I’ve had numerous encounters with. We greet one another as though we are close, and somehow it is genuine.

As I compiled a list of people I wanted to tell story about for Context, I thought of Jon. Barely an acquaintance, it was a long shot, but I sent him a text.

“Count me in.” he replied.

A few weeks later we meet for lunch in Paris at a restaurant “Le Servan.” We didn’t eat there. We ate at Rives across the street. We walked in as a party of three, Jon was with his friend Harold. Another guy walked in after us and the host helped him first. We gave each other a look, wondering if we’d made a mistake. We didn’t. The meal was great, and we had a conversation on another level. Remember, I do not really KNOW this person, but this was not apparent at the time. If we walked into Rives as acquaintances, we left as friends.

During NYFW the stress for the best of me. I didn’t have much work, the trip is always expensive, and PRs were being less than favorable with access to the shows. I tried to link with Jon in his new office, but he spaced on the timing. He’s a busy guy. Everyone wants a piece. We reschedule to the last day of NYFW to try again at his office.

Jon Gray was my Valentine. 14 February and I roll up to the lobby of the building. I’m stressed. It’s a travel day for me and I have 101 things to do before I hit the airport back to Denmark. Jon shows me around the kitchen he’s building which is one of three spaces he has in the building (that I know of). The kitchen is just framing, pipes, and wires. There are a dozen guys working on-site, and let me tell you, the space is massive. It’s impressive, but Jon is only ever humble. Next, we head to Jon’s office and that’s where he saves me.

Jon Gray saved me. Remember, I’ve met this man likely less than five times in my life. Jon Gray imparts wisdom to me which I cannot summarize. He tells me about his struggles with stress and anxiety. He tells me how he finds his calm. He shares his tactics but does so not in the form of “do this” instructions.

No one cares. That’s what we establish at the end. Jon orders us tea, and we talk about how living in a city of millions can be the more isolating that being alone on an island. Keep a few close, but very close. Form a tribe. We don’t get into depth about anything. Every subject sends us to the next subject. We are both only children. Jon says this means that we are more prone to ADD. Is that true, I ask? He says he doesn’t know, but it seems right. I tend to agree.

Jon takes a call about some water damage at his home in the Bronx. He needs to go. Damn, I need to go! We only spent about 45 minutes together, but it was densely packed with quality. Form a tribe.

I just texted Jon to check some facts about our story. “Greetings from Venice”. Ironic. He means Italy, not Cali. He’s probably there for Rick.

I will probably continue to see Jon every 4-6 months at The Big Four. It’s also probable that we won’t have time to sit down together for some years to come. That’s ok with me. It’s quality over quantity. If I don’t see Jon for another decade, I know that when we do find a moment to share, it will have been worth the wait. Jon is one in a billion, and I can say without any doubt, that I want to be a part of his tribe.

Thank you, Jon.