Kate Ahlborn—Harvard '07, Upper East Sider, Vanity Fair writer—ventured into Brooklyn, where dirty people live, for a weird Brooklyny art show, and wrote about it. May she never fucking return.

Somehow it happened that in all the years I've lived in New York City, I'd never been to Brooklyn. But when I heard that choreographer Noémie Lafrance had a new show opening in Williamsburg, I decided it was as good an occasion as any to venture beyond Manhattan for the first time.

Kate simply loved Noemie's video for Feist and the piece she did at Bard College, so she assumed this would be a safe excursion, right? Wrong:

So on Tuesday night, I boarded the L train (heading away from the West Village) and made my way to hipsterville.

Good one.

Perhaps my tweed J. Crew jacket and Tory Burch ballet flats weren't the best wardrobe choice for that day, but I overcame the fact that I was a total Williamsburg misfit and hoped my foreigner status wouldn't be glaringly obvious to the natives. (It was.) After narrowly escaping death by skateboard on the Bedford subway platform, I made my way to a rickety building in what felt to me like Brooklyn's outer banks. (It wasn't.)

I feel like I can almost see, nay, smell this strange and dangerous land. But Kate was in for a surprise! When she got in the weird and dirty Williamsburg building, the artist was practically nekkid! Then she did weird things like wrapping her body in papier mache, and "even touched our faces." What is this, some weird Brooklyn art show? Anyhow needless to say it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience for Kate but not really her cup of tea, if you know what she's saying:

I left the rickety building slightly shaken up and eager to get back to Manhattan. After this experience, I'm fairly certain that's exactly where I belong.

No shit.

[VF. Pic: Nick McGlynn. Josh Stein has a somewhat pithier dissection of Kate's work.]