Ninze Chen

For Ninze Chen, amidst a wild leap of faith, design and growth were at the center
of it all.

summer 2024

A woman sitting in a vet clinic examining a dog. The dog is lying on the table wearing a medical harness, and the woman is holding its paw. There are cat and dog toys, office supplies, and a large window in the background letting in natural light.

WORDS Ashley Rubell
PHOTOGRAPHY Anna Wolf

It was 2014 in Brooklyn when Ninze Chen made her first real splurge on a piece of furniture. A pair of dining chairs, to be exact, made by Danish designer Hans Wegner. The lines, simplicity and quality of how well-made they were left her swooning. Chen was a book and graphic designer who had just bought her first place in Ridgewood, Queens and she was searching for interesting pieces to put in her new home. She still remembers the first time she walked into a vintage shop called Other Times in Bushwick and thought to herself,  Where did they find all these things? How were they able to do this? In awe and admiration, Chen began talking to the shop owners who shared a website with her for estate sales where they sourced much of their furniture. “It was like discovering a new country,” Chen tells me. “I went down a rabbit hole. [Each piece] has a rich history. There’s so much love, thought, and culture that goes into creating these beautiful, functional objects.”

A person in a teal smock getting a tattoo on their upper arm from a tattoo artist, with petal sketches on paper on a table in the foreground.
People walking and standing outside a brick building with large windows, snow falling, pumpkins and hay bales outdoors, and the store number 67 on the front door.

In 2019, Ninze Chen opened Long Weekend, a storefront of vintage furniture and home goods. Her shop is one of a handful of new businesses that have recently popped up in the small town alongside the migration of former citydwellers, breathing new life into the community and attracting a larger influx of weekend tourism. “So many of us moved up here thinking, I’m going to try this out for a few years and see if the lifestyle feels right,” Chen says. The long-term vision for many creative entrepreneurs, as Chen exemplifies, may be less about solidifying a five year plan and more about learning on the fly, and understanding what’s possible. 

While living through the pandemic, many folks began leaving the city grind for rural, country life and the radical idea of starting over, or trying something new. Becoming a shop owner in a small town has its charm, and the images flooding social media contribute to the on-brand fantasy of it all, but small town or not, the delusion of working for oneself, let alone operating a storefront, is a hustle much like the city that never sleeps. 

A woman with black hair wearing a dark green jacket stands behind a table with a plant in a pot. She is looking at the plant, or possibly at something in her hand. In the background, there is a quilted fabric wall hanging with geometric patterns in beige, brown, and black.
A woman in gray pajamas sitting on a yellow couch with a brown and white dog, sunlight casting shadows on the wall.

Anything and everything about owning a physical storefront goes largely unseen, she tells me. “Maintaining the warehouse of furniture inventory, coordinating repairs and fixes, researching materials for repair, moving pieces around the store for one perfect photo, merchandising, finding new vendors, driving…” Chen sources her goods from all over the northeast and beyond. While the idea of having a flagship store may appear to be a very grounding reality, much of her time is spent driving around to source new pieces for the shop. “My whole life is a road trip,” she jokes.  It’s those long drives mid-week that inspire her and end up fueling some of her best ideas. 

Nuts and bolts aside, antiquing has its skeptics. “[I think] the assumption is that [these types of] businesses are swimming in cash because we’re putting these margins on vintage, but that’s not the reality,” she tells me. Sure, someone may find something at an antique shop somewhere, Chen explains, but it isn’t as likely as it sounds. Sourcing items, the skill that Chen’s been developing now for nearly a decade, is merely one facet of her profession. “I don’t have a team of people packing and shipping stuff. I don’t have a team of people taking and editing photos. It’s just me.”

A person with dark hair wearing a brown leather jacket waving at a window, seen from behind.

One of the trickiest parts in Chen’s journey of operating a storefront business during the pandemic years has been dealing with the rising cost of goods. “It impacted a lot,” Chen says, “it wasn’t just furniture.” Dealing with the curveball in real time meant seeing some unpredictably high highs and low lows in her inconsistent sales, but it also presented her with a unique opportunity to keep learning and cultivating her craft. When it became too difficult or costly to seek out refurbishing for a piece of furniture, Chen – in true entrepreneurial fashion– began to teach herself how to do whatever needed to be done. She can now confidently switch out fabrics, stitch on leather, fill gaps and refinish wood. She now has a separate studio to do it out of it, too – right down the road from her shop.

Having a knack for this kind of thing doesn’t come naturally – it takes time. As Chen points out, “It’s an art, not a science.” And while Chen may not have had any formal training in these areas, it didn’t stop her from trying. When you’re a newbie at anything, Chen says, “you have to know it’s going to take time.” And in that time, Chen has found creative fulfillment in a variety of ways – from designing a tissue paper to reupholstering a chair. But the most rewarding part of her journey so far, has been getting to know her customers. The relationships she’s built have almost inevitably opened up new doorways for growth. “It’s how I began doing interior design for private clients,” Chen says. 

A woman standing on a wooden step stool, placing her head and arms on a small table, in a cozy living room with wall decorations, shelves with books and decor, and a patterned rug and blanket on the floor.
A collage of various household items and scenes, including a person holding a potted plant near a door, a sewing machine with fabric, a bowl of fruit on a table, and a cluttered craft or art supplies area.

Last year, Chen attended a vintage goods show in Texas, and as many new places and experiences have a tendency to do, it ignited another gust of inspiration for her.  When it comes to what’s next, Chen dreams of owning the building she operates out of instead of renting it, largely in an effort to diversify her assets. Having the real estate aspect of her own warehouse, studio, and shop feels like the smart next step, she tells me. “Antiques are great, but it’s not going to be the only thing I’m making money from,” she says. Her rental property, Camp Long Weekend, in Parksville is proof of the first step toward exactly that. 

A woman working in a workshop or craft room, with tools hanging on a pegboard and shelves filled with various supplies, including bottles, paper towels, and a small machine, seen through a side window.
A woman with dark hair, wearing a dark blue jacket, is sitting comfortably on an orange leather sofa in a cozy living room. A smiling expression, she is enjoying her time with two dogs, one lying on the sofa and the other standing nearby. The room features a wooden sideboard with decorative vases, a large leafy houseplant, and modern lighting. A coffee table with a bowl of eggs and some eggs is in the foreground.

Being outside of the city has been a way for Chen to reconnect with her interests and find community. It’s also taught her that even with the stark contrast of living and working in a small seasonal town, you can still suffer from the grind. “It’s good to be evolving and changing and staying open to the next thing,” she says, “but not at the expense of not knowing what’s really happening around you. Not at the expense of not spending time with your family.” She doesn’t know with certainty where the next five years will take her, but she’s able to think about that unknown with excitement, not anxiety. Because for Ninze Chen, it’s not a location, but the answers unknown, that offer her the space to explore what’s possible. ❤

A woman standing indoors near a large window, with plants on the windowsill and a wooden dresser behind her. She is wearing a dark shirt and smiling slightly.
A woman standing outside a storefront in winter, holding a leash attached to a dog. There are pumpkins and hay bales decorated around the entrance, with snow falling.

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