The area encompassing upper bucks Bucks County, PA and Hunterdon County, NJ, all bucolic farmland and rolling hills spilling into lush forests, separated by the Delaware River and dotted by well-preserved Revolutionary-era structures on each side, is enjoying a moment. You could, if you were a jackass, refer to it as the stealth Upstate New York, if of course by “stealth” you meant that you had a nearly terminal case of myopia. But it’s got the hallmarks of a budding second-home hub. The trend pieces have come, touting high-profile relocations such as Bradley Cooper, the Hadids, and, per the failing New York Times, “other famous people.” Cal Peternell, formerly the chef of Chez Panise, has opened a restaurant in downtown Frenchtown called Finnbar, whose farm-fresh dishes and natural wines fund his wife’s arts program across the street. Sean Gay, formerly of Momofuku, has set up shop in an historic inn. There’s a fucking field of rocks out in Upper Black Eddy that’s gone viral on TikTok. I’ve been, you hit the rocks with a hammer and it kinda sounds like a bell.
At the spiritual center of it all is New Hope, PA, a historical arts enclave known at times for arts, antiques, and its historic playhouse. Its downtown, connected by a bridge over the Delaware River to its spiritual sibling Lambertville, NJ, consists of a few streets featuring the typical mix of oddball shops (Pet Photos Plus! The New Hope House of Jerky! Fred Eisen Leather & Art Knives!) and world-class dining in either historic or shockingly modern buildings, plus side streets with experimental-looking houses that seem cozily lived-in and an unfathomably cute canal. The area hasn’t experienced a shark-jumping moment of absurdity akin to Justin Timberlake’s 2024 DUI in Sag Harbor, in which the arresting officer had no idea who he was, but it’s not hard to imagine a future in which Keanu Reeves’s jangle-grunge band gets booed offstage at MOMs over in Doylestown.
Perhaps no establishment in the town represents the tension of outside money falling in love with an area’s charm and, as the affair deepens, inadvertently threatening to price out all which once made it charming than God Save the Qweens, a little vintage shop dedicated to both all things punk rock and all things Ween, tucked up a hill off the main drag, steps from the canal. If you’re in the neighborhood, you’ll recognize it because it’s got a lot of stuff with the word “FUCK” printed on it displayed outside, as well as a few items prominently displaying the Boognish, Ween’s logo that surely is up there in the pantheon of ‘90s band logos along with Wu-Tang, Oasis, and maybe Sublime.
God Save the Qweens’s proprietor, who goes publicly by Punk Rock Michelle, opened it nearly 20 years ago after defecting from Love Saves the Day, an outpost of the now-defunct East Village vintage store of the same name. She’s spent her entire life in the area, growing up in nearby Buckingham and attending Bucks County Community college for art, settling into a concentration in glassblowing, because “all the cute boys were blowing glass.” At 55, Michelle scans as a Gen X lifer. She dresses like a member of Lydia Lunch’s entourage, her hair a shock of Manic Panic pink. Despite the fact that the store is her life — she’s the owner, proprietor, and sole employee — she seems uninterested in making money unless it’s on her terms, which means making sales in-person or, if it’s a t-shirt, over Facebook. She loves The Cure, the Dead Kennedys, the Sex Pistols, and Elvis, and refers to Billy Idol as “my future ex-husband” multiple times during our conversation. Her store is a reflection of all of these things. “This is my 15-year-old self’s dream,” she says.
God Save the Qweens also has the distinction of being able to call itself Ween’s officially sanctioned headquarters. Michelle is longtime friends with the group’s principals — they met in high school — and they’ve at times used the store as a clearinghouse for their unsold merch or bootleg shirts sent to them in tribute, as well as a hangout space for when they’re in town. At this point, it’s the only place where a Ween fan can go and hear about the band and its history from someone who knows them firsthand.