I was beginning to think the art crowd was slipping, losing something, maybe drying up. Hardly. The huge crowd that turned out for the opening night of David LaChapelle’s and Elaine Reichek’s show at 56, Bleecker Gallery wasn’t on bit dull, insipid or shriveled up. Everyone looked just the opposite: fluffy, ripe and in blossom. The place ablaze with personalized radical chic, but these weren’t hollow hipsters, these were people with actual substance inside their decorative shells. People were bandying their imaginations about and their art observations as well. No vapid spine-chilling trendies here, these were good-looking art-worlders. It struck me that here truly was the young avant-garde. So the crowd was here, and the art? That was here too.