Many of you may have been sad to hear that The Pink Cow was closing. Even though it only closed to relocate, the original Harajuku space had a quirky, living-room feeling that many will miss.

The good news, however, is that the new place (opposite the Aoyama Park Tower between Shibuya and Omotesando) gives Traci Consoli -- The Pink Cow's vivacious owner and creator -- much more space in which she and her customers can strut their stuff.

Traci agreed to let me check out the premises before they officially opened. We found somewhere to sit among a mountain of boxes and upended furniture. Everything was covered in the sawdust of work-in-progress. Traci opened a chilled bottle of white wine and apologized that we'd have to use paper cups as she hadn't, as yet, been able to find the wineglasses.

"If I'd known what was involved in running a restaurant and bar I probably never would have started," she said, shaking her head in disbelief at the mess.

Opening The Pink Cow three years ago was her initiation by fire. She worked long and hard, often without paying herself a salary. For the first two years, she even did all the cooking.

A year ago she hired a chef, Andrew Warden, who is relishing the idea of having a real six-ring kitchen to work in at the new Pink Cow. In addition to existing dishes, like chicken burritos and quesadillas, Andy has been busying himself creating new items for the menu, like filet of kangaroo with potato gratin and fresh blueberry and port wine sauce and seared swordfish steak served on a warm nicoise salad with aioli.

Two bartenders will be mixing the drinks, Yoko and Mitlo, Japanese and Nepalese, female and male respectively. Both are very cute -- and into tattoos.

But beyond being a place to eat and drink, The Pink Cow's real attraction is its clientele. Traci may still have doubts about her managerial skills, but her networking ability is unrivaled. Having grown up in California, where art equaled community, she was disappointed to find no such scene in Japan. The Pink Cow became her personal mission to establish a place where art- and community-oriented people could interact and relax.

The Cow quickly gained an enthusiastic following, not only among artists but also among bankers, English teachers and computer whiz-kids. It's a free-thinking space where artists can display their work, DJs spin, bands perform and writers wax poetical. All these artistic services are provided for free, but The Pink Cow affords that all-important first chance for many creative wannabees. And those who come to look or listen enjoy the benefit.

It was difficult, during that first visit, to imagine the interior without the general mayhem of the move. Even Traci had trouble coming up with a figure for the capacity of the space, but finally settled on around 200 standing or 150 seated. In addition to a spacious dining and lounge area -- both of which are non-smoking -- the new Cow has a large bar and small cubbyhole (near the entrance), both of which are smoker-friendly.

The walls are white, the floor terra cotta throughout and the bar is made from rough-hewn wood -- all courtesy of the previous occupants, who ran an Italian restaurant. Another legacy of the previous tenants are decorative bowls mounted in rows along the walls. These struck me as more flowery than arty. Traci must have read my thoughts.

"Don't worry -- the Cow will still be weird!" she quickly said.

Like many, my only concern was that the new Cow should have the same vibe as the old Cow -- a certain kind of unidentifiable art funk. But come opening night, Traci was right.

With the addition of mad swatches of fabric here and there, the space had taken on an arty edge. And though the party had started at 6 p.m., I found it impossible to leave before 2 a.m. as one old friend after another kept walking through the door.

And I so very nearly did get the Nepalese bartender to take his shirt off . . .