Before 2020

Carry it On

From a Suitcase to an Office

No.1200 Middle Huaihai Rd.

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In early 2019, after months of traveling through Indonesia, I returned to Shanghai with nothing more than a carry-on suitcase and 500 RMB in my pocket. I stayed temporarily at a friend’s place, unsure how to rebuild my life with only that small suitcase. By chance, the same friend still had the studio in the center of Shanghai that we used for a workspace together. I sublet it, at first as a shelter.
Soon, the space became my workspace. Its central location and my tendency to keep the door open meant that friends often stopped by after work for a drink and a conversation. Before long, the studio turned into a small hotspot in the city center—unpretentious, always welcoming, a rare pause in the restless energy of Shanghai.
The studio stood at No.1200 Middle Huaihai Road, in the heart of the former French Concession. Built in 1926, the building carried traces of a layered history: in the Republican era, the progressive youth leader Deng Yanda once lived there and hosted the Kuomintang “Provisional Action Committee”; and it is said a private Western restaurant once operated in the lane, famous for its onion soup. A century later, it remained international in spirit, as a new generation once again gathered there—this time for political action of their own - to figure out how to live, work, and position themselves in the city and the world today.

The friends who came to drink and linger formed a new kind of “party”: editors, journalists, writers, creative directors, designers, stylists, artists, and many who had just returned from studying abroad. They were old friends, friends of friends, and online acquaintances who finally met in person. Out of these encounters, I formed a new creative team. We worked on art and advertising projects by day, and by night the studio transformed into something else: a co-working hub turned gathering place, where more friends arrived with bottles, conversations, and ideas—celebrating the in-between, that fragile space between day and night, work and play, survival and dream.

At a certain point, it felt like the space needed a name. It was, after all, a place about reciprocity, about the ties between individuals and the wider world. And so Mutual Office was born. My friends and I renovated the space and threw an opening party. That night, the tiny studio overflowed with nearly eighty people—mutual friends who filled the garden, the rooms, and the air with possibility.
These stories carried on long after I left Shanghai. Wherever I go in the world, I still run into friends who once visited, gathered, or even lived at Mutual Office. Some found love at those parties, others started working together, and many—like me—eventually left Shanghai.One night in the Netherlands, I was chatting with two friends from Shanghai. They asked if I knew a certain girl. I said I didn’t. They both exclaimed at the same time: “How could you not? We met her at a Mutual Office party!” And just like that, the conversation drifted back to those nights years ago.

Mutual Office has always been more than an office. It began in Shanghai in 2019, With little more than a suitcase, a borrowed studio, and a garden with friends. In 2020, Mutual Office moved to the Netherlands.

Mutual Office has always been more than an office.
It began in Shanghai in 2019,
With little more than a suitcase,
a borrowed studio, and a garden with friends.
In 2020, Mutual Office moved to the Netherlands.