The Eye: How the World's Most Influential Creative Directors Develop Their Vision 9781579658878, 1579658873

Table of contents :
Editor's Note
Masthead
Fashion
Thom Browne
Vanessa Traina
Stefano Pilati
Clare Waight Keller
Dries Van Noten
Yohji Yamamoto
Bouchra Jarrar
Erdem Moralio-glu
Linda Rodin
Joe & Charlie Casely-Hayford
Kris Van Assche
Carol Lim & Humberto Leon
Margaret Howell
Telfar Clemens
Garance Doré
Jonathan Anderson
Lucas Ossendri-jver
Fashion Archive
Christian Dior
Pierre Cardin
Coco Chanel
Mary Quant
Hubert De Givenchy
Roy Halston Frowick
Azzedine Alaïa
Alexander McQueen
Yves Saint Laurent
Cristóbal Balenciaga
Publishing
Stefano Tonchi
Grace Coddington
Franck Durand
Veronica Ditting
Jefferson Hack
Imran Amed
Mirko Borsche
Ruba Abu-Nimah
Thomas Persson
Marie- Amélie Sauvé
Masoud Golsorkhi & Caroline Issa
Fabien Baron
Kuchar Swara
Camilla Nickerson
Karla Martinez De Salas
Publishing Archive
Franca Sozzani
Carmel Snow
Willy Fleckaus
Helen Gurley Brown
Alexander Liberman
Cipe Pineles
Babara “Babe” Paley
Alexey Brodovitch
Diana Vreeland
Entertainment
Wayne McGregor
Kris Moran
Devonté Hynes
Lernert Engelberts & Sander Plug
Aurélie Dupont
Todd Tourso
Alonzo King
Chris Dercon
Melina Matoukas
Alexandre de Betak
Andy Spade
Stefan Sagmeister & Jessica Walsh
Luca Guadagnino
Entertainment Archive
Alfred Hitchcock
George Balanchine
Gordon Parks
Rudolf Nureyev
John Ford
Michael Curtiz
Akira Kurosawa
Sylvia robinson
David Lean
Merce Cunningham
Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney
Ingmar Bergman
Orson Welles
Jean Cocteau
Frank Capra
Stanley Kubrick
Peter Brook
Mikhail Baryshnikov
Quincy Jones
Martha Graham
George Martin
Jean-Luc Godard
Edith Head
Peggy Guggenheim
Inventory
Credits
Acknowledgements
About the Author

Citation preview

HOW THE WORLD’S MOST INFLUENTIAL CREATIVE DIRECTORS DEVELOP THEIR VISION ______

Nathan Williams

EDITOR’S NOTE Creativity and curiosity are shared human constants. Looking to Silicon Valley, the runways of Paris Fashion Week and many places in between, we question what else is out there and how it makes us feel to pursue it. From our politics to portfolios, the ways we express our talent and artistic purpose today are ushering in an entirely new mode of communication and nomenclature—and creative directors are the vanguard, the cultural gatekeepers across industries and trades. But what defines a creative director? Who are these trailblazers and dilettantes and how do they develop their vision? The Eye explores these questions, acting both as a showcase and a primer. The future of creative direction is unknown, and its history is no less nebulous. Leonardo da Vinci was arguably the first creative director, the Renaissance providing a fertile ground for creative expression like never before. Fabien Baron, editorial director of Interview magazine and founder of his own design firm, even suggests some version has been around since the pyramids. “Minimalism has existed since the world has existed, from a single man putting his hand on a single stone. The Egyptian pyramids. What’s more minimal than that?” Baron explains. Of the Christian cross, he says: “The most famous logo ever.” Creative directors, whether building the pyramids or conceptualizing a logo, deciding on the look of a handbag or directing the music video of a pop star, are the heart of any project. They establish and develop a company’s personality, perspective and reason for being. They construct the DNA for a brand, using whatever means necessary, whether it’s their childlike instincts or their robust Rolodex, external or internal stimuli. As Kris Moran, set decorator for the likes of Wes Anderson and Noah Baumbach, puts it: “Everything relates to the project. It’s all I see, like an eagle eye looking for clues in people on the street, in cab rides, on my way home on the subway.” For Andy Spade, it’s intuitive: “I almost lose all sense of reality, and time disappears because I’m immersed in it so deeply and having so much fun.” Similarly, choreographer Alonzo King says dance requires you to be both in the moment and selfless. “You’re not imitating, cloning or knocking something off,” he explains. “You have to step into the embodiment of an idea.” Whether with captions, captchas, hashtags or memes, our social selves are creating a ping-pong existence with a new generational connectivity. Says Jefferson Hack, founder of Dazed and Confused: “There were no rules. We didn’t want to be prescriptive about the new generation that was coming through, which we were part of,” he explains. “It was about admitting to not being perfect, about saying: ‘I’m dazed and confused, and I don’t give a fuck that I haven’t got everything worked out.’” This connection culture is now not only an acceptable form of expression, but a welcome 360-degree pursuit, a new Enlightenment altogether. Todd Tourso shares this same reflective instinct: “You’re really only a mirror for what your subject is at the moment,” says Tourso, Beyoncé’s creative director, “and your goal is to dust away all the bullshit and put a magnifying glass on what makes them special.” Today, creative directors are also building entirely new industries. To witness a

runway show by Alexandre de Betak is to observe fashion at its most inter pret i ve, i ts mos t com muni cati ve—it s mos t gr oundbreaking. Produc i ng m or e than one thousand shows for clients like Givenchy, Céline, John Galliano, Michael Kors, Lanvin, Miu Miu and Rodarte, the designer reinvented the form with elements like real tornados and ice sculptures. Successful creative directors are also often networks unto themselves, pulling talent from around the globe. After working in video and production design for years, Grammy winner Melina Matsoukas tapped Solange to provide the music supervision for a new show on HBO. “Discovery, diversity and disruption,” says Stefano Tonchi, the creative director behind W and T magazines, are what drove his career. The editor, like so many in the pages that follow, is known for retaining a roster of creative talent that has loyally followed him over the years. Editors like Vogue’s Diana Vreeland transcended the role of editor in chief to famed personality and cultural arbiter, whereas graphic designers like Willy Fleckhaus created editorial work with cult appeal. Today, the founders of Opening Ceremony carry on that tradition. Despite no formal training, Carol Lim and Humberto Leon were named creative directors of Kenzo in 2011. The promotion surprised many, but the move proved wildly successful. In short, all of these individuals have created something unprecedented and influential in their respective fields. Across a mix of industries including fashion, publishing and entertainment, these creative directors possess that elusive asset, an eye for their niche and trade—and an eye for the zeitgeist before it arrives.*

They possess that elusive asset, an eye for their niche and trade—and an eye for the zeitgeist before it arrives.

MASTHEAD Editor in Chief & Creative Director Nathan Williams Editor & Art Director Molly Mandell Design Director Alex Hunting Copy Editor James Burke Copy Editor Jason Orlovich Editorial Assistant Lena Hunter Editorial Assistant Garett Nelson Publication Design Alex Hunting Studio Writers James Burke Alex Frank Natalya Frederick Colleen Kelsey Molly Mandell Frankie Mathieson David Michon Shonquis Moreno Sarah Moroz Tom Morris Billie Muraben Jason Orlovich David Plaisant Natalie Rigg Sarah Rowland Laura Rysman Trey Taylor

Photographers Christian Møller Anderson Pablo Arroyo Paul Barbera Fabien Baron Alessio Bolzoni James Bort Julien Boudet Claire Cottrell Lasse Fløde Gillian Garcia James Gardiner Nicolas Guerin Eric Guillemain Joakim Heltne Virginia Katheeb Billy Kidd Andreas Larsson Thomas Lohr Fernando Marroquin Craig McDean Jacopo Moschin Ward Ivan Rafik Philip Sinden Mario Sorrenti Daniel Stjerne Marsy Hild Thorsdottir Zoltan Tombor Dennis Weber Stylists, Hair & Makeup Jérôme André Louisa Copperwaite Sonia Duchaussoy Vernon François Aidan Keogh Mindy Le Brock Sabrina Lefebvre Tsipporah Liebman John Nollet Celina Rodriguez Cover Illustration Jack Davison

CONTENTS FASHION THOM BROWNE / VANESSA TRAINA / STEFANO PILATI / CLARE WAIGHT KELLER / DRIES VAN NOTEN / YOHJI YAMAMOTO / BOUCHRA JARRAR / ERDEM MORALIOGLU / LINDA RODIN / JOE & CHARLIE CASELYHAYFORD / KRIS VAN ASSCHE / CAROL LIM & HUMBERTO LEON / MARGARET HOWELL / TELFAR CLEMENS / GARANCE DORÉ / JONATHAN ANDERSON / LUCAS OSSENDRIJVER /

FASHION ARCHIVE CHRISTIAN DIOR / PIERRE CARDIN / COCO CHANEL / MARY QUANT / HUBERT DE GIVENCHY / ROY HALSTON FROWICK / AZZEDINE ALAÏA / ALEXANDER MCQUEEN / YVES SAINT LAURENT / CRISTÓBAL BALENCIAGA /

Reading List

PUBLISHING STEFANO TONCHI / GRACE CODDINGTON / FRANCK DURAND/ VERONICA DITTING / JEFFERSON HACK / IMRAN AMED / MIRKO BORSCHE / RUBA ABU-NIMAH / THOMAS PERSSON / MARIE- AMÉLIE SAUVÉ / MASOUD GOLSORKHI & CAROLINE ISSA / FABIEN BARON / KUCHAR SWARA / CAMILLA NICKERSON / KARLA MARTINEZ DE SALAS /

PUBLISHING ARCHIVE FRANCA SOZZANI / CARMEL SNOW / WILLY FLECKHAUS / HELEN GURLEY BROWN / ALEXANDER LIBERMAN / CIPE PINELES / BARBARA “BABE” PALEY / ALEXEY BRODOVITCH / DIANA VREELAND /

Reading List

ENTERTAINMENT WAYNE MCGREGOR / KRIS MORAN / DEVONTÉ HYNES / LERNERT ENGELBERTS & SANDER PLUG / AURÉLIE DUPONT / TODD TOURSO / ALONZO KING / CHRIS DERCON / MELINA MATSOUKAS / ALEXANDRE DE BETAK / ANDY SPADE / STEFAN SAGMEISTER & JESSICA WALSH / LUCA GUADAGNINO /

ENTERTAINMENT ARCHIVE ALFRED HITCHCOCK / GEORGE BALANCHINE / GORDON PARKS / RUDOLF NUREYEV / JOHN FORD / MICHAEL CURTIZ / AKIRA KUROSAWA / SYLVIA ROBINSON / DAVID LEAN / MERCE CUNNINGHAM / GERTRUDE VANDERBILT WHITNEY / INGMAR BERGMAN / ORSON WELLES / JEAN COCTEAU / FRANK CAPRA / STANLEY KUBRICK / PETER BROOK / MIKHAIL BARYSHNIKOV / QUINCY JONES / MARTHA GRAHAM / GEORGE MARTIN / JEAN-LUC GODDARD / EDITH HEAD / PEGGY GUGGENHEIM /

Reading List Inventory Credits Acknowledgements

STEFANO TONCHI

WAYNE MCGREGOR

CLARE WAIGHT KELLER

FASHION

← Opening an appointment-only store with just five suits, Browne has an entrepreneurial spirit and a personal vision that is tangible in his style. A sleek and understated authority is the essence of his brand.

THOM BROWNE THOM BROWNE

A men’s suit is all but synonymous, sartorially speaking, with orthodoxy—it is the uniform of the Professional Man. At one end, it is a hallmark of power and the establishment; at the other, it is the metaphorical shackle of the white-collar rat race. Very little variation is accepted in its design. Proportion, fit, color, and materiality: all are subject to a set of unspoken traditionalist rules that are followed to an astonishing degree. There seems to be an equally precise understanding of how one should wear a suit, a subject that has inspired endless style tomes, none of which you’d expect to find on the bookshelves of Thom Browne. The barriers to innovation in the design of men’s suits are many. Few—very few— designers might be considered innovators, and particularly few have developed a new style and truly moved the needle with it. Thom Browne is one who has. He started his eponymous brand in 2001 out of his New York apartment. Back then, he was personally handwriting the labels of each article of clothing; today, his brand spans men’s and women’s lines and ready-to-wear and couture, and under its triple-striped belt boasts successful collaborations with Moncler and Brooks Brothers, winning several prestigious American fashion awards along the way. A Thom Browne suit has much in common with other high-end tailoring: top-quality fabrics and exceptional craftsmanship, for instance. At one level, it’s just another example of classic tailoring. Yet Browne swerves to the left in cut—“a play in proportion,” in his words. At least for Browne’s most recognizable style, his suits have often been described as “shrunken” or “schoolboy” in the press: sleeves and trouser cuffs are cropped, and the fit is snug. The gesture is his major risk and his genius.

→ Aesthetic consistency is a Browne hallmark. Launched in 2011, his eyeglasses line introduced another staple, with frames that come with a certain dramatic flair and an androgynous feel.

As with most creators, Browne was driven by a desire to create something that met his own tastes—and a cropped, tight-fitting suit wasn’t on the market. Frankly, aside from Thom Browne, it still isn’t. When he first launched, Browne was asked, “Why should I buy it, if it doesn’t even look like it fits you?” To which he responded, “I like it the way that it fits.” Browne refuses to call this confidence. “It’s more naiveté,” he says, something that was a personal drive, and the reason the brand was given his name.

Browne’s office, in New York’s Garment District, is distinctly clutter-free and minimally designed. “Some people say that they could hose down my office,” he told The New York Times shortly after moving into the space in 2015. “It’s that sparse.”

There are a lot of suits in his past: his father was a staunch wearer of suits, and Browne himself attended a Catholic school growing up and was used to a uniform. Oddly, it’s not entirely due to those experiences that his brand is what it is today. “[My father] would laugh if he ever thought I was using him as a reference,” says Browne. “It was more that everything was so classic and simple; the last thing that he thought about, really, was the clothing that he was wearing.” And that is fundamental to Thom Browne; nothing becomes irrelevant after a season. His clothes are built to last in both design and construction. Browne’s suits are now his uniform—and to him, there’s something very liberating about a uniform. Once upon a time, in college, it was khakis, a navy jacket and a cardigan sweater for Browne. Today, it is a gray suit with trousers that bare his ankles, or shorts. Browne philosophizes about very few things, but the idea of a uniform is one. “It’s ironic, but for me, someone who adopts the idea of uniformity is someone

who has a lot more interesting things to think about. They are very confident, they are very secure, and true to themselves.” Of course this style is now the uniform of all those who work with Browne at his midtown Manhattan office.† Many who visit the Thom Browne headquarters comment on more than the dress of his staff, but also on the utter completeness of the aesthetic world that Browne has created for himself. Floating pieces of his furniture collection between his home, his office and his stores, Thom Browne gives each of his spaces the same treatment. On a more profound level, what underscores the impact of his designs is Browne’s skill at world creation, his ability, as he says, to let people “feel” his sensibility.

Browne sees his work as making classic tailoring relevant for today: how can a suit shift from a symbol of establishment to one of expression and experimentation? As when trying to fiddle with any tradition, it’s best to do it with a little of what we know —he incorporates a sensibility that is “classic American,” with many nods to the 1960s—but also with a little fantasy.

Wrapping a ready-to-wear collection in high-concept trappings is a technique that is commonplace in the fashion industry, with elaborate and expensive presentations on the runway. Thom Browne’s shows, however, often go to the next level in stitching together a collection’s concept and its presentation. His Autumn/Winter 2006 menswear collection saw his models take to an ice rink on skates—they didn’t all manage to stay upright—and spin around to Rachmaninoff. And this is Browne’s radicalism, subtle as it may seem: to imagine a snowboarder in quilted cashmere. “Establishment,” he’s saying, is now jeans and T-shirts; a good suit is radical. Thus, tailoring is introduced to a new audience (and with a bit of humor). As much as the press try to dig deep into his shows, Browne insists they remain “not as intellectual as people think,” Browne says, adding, “I like to be entertaining and memorable and really tell the story of the collection.” Inspiration comes from any number of sources, whether a fashion silhouette or a book, film or art—but only as a spark. “I don’t really keep literal references. I try to remember them as much as possible and not get crippled by a reference in front of me,” he explains. “Sometimes a literal reference is done so well that you almost feel like, I shouldn’t be doing this, because it couldn’t be done any better.” There is, however, one literal reference always close at hand: Hector Browne, Browne’s wire-haired dachshund, who has been the muse for a series of handbags, most in his likeness, which first appeared in 2016.‡ Browne’s initial sketches for a collection are almost illegible—beautiful but indecipherable. They are abstract, using lines and circles drawn by a ruler and template, almost Bauhaus and without a set of consistent symbols. Aside from cryptic captions (“Monday,” “Thoughtful,” “Rosiest”), they can be interpreted only once explained to his design director. They’re just to get the ball rolling: “I prefer mostly going directly into making the clothes.” Browne is not trained as a designer; he was living in Los Angeles, trying to become an actor and failing at it. Often after losing out on a part, Browne was told he just didn’t look like he “needed the work.” When he decided to quit LA in 1997, he headed straight for New York, landing a job in an Armani showroom before being hired as a designer for Club Monaco by Ralph Lauren, who’d seen Browne in one of his own suits. “New York,” says Browne. “It’s a cliché to say, but it’s just a city where things happen.” “I like to see things differently,” says the designer, “and I hope that helps other people see things differently.” Through his decades as a designer, Browne has been consistent in that—the cropped suit was just the beginning. He’s shown us oversized, too, and men’s dresses. Yet, despite his laser-sharp concepts, he’s not dogmatic—feel free to wear a pair of Thom Browne trousers right to your shoe.*

I don’t really keep literal references.

Hector Browne is a miniature wire-haired dachshund —a long, low, compact and muscular breed that the American Kennel Club calls “spunky” and easily moved to boredom, yet also “intelligent, lively, courageous to the point of rashness,

[and] obedient.” All very much like Hector’s owner, it seems.

PRESIDENTIAL POWER For the 2013 presidential inauguration, Michelle Obama donned a navy dress and coat combination designed by none other than Browne himself. Browne had formerly dressed the first lady, but this ensemble carried extra weight. It was only to be worn once, after which it (along with any accompanying accessories) would be preserved by the National Archives. Unsurprisingly, the silk foulard outfit also garnered Browne extra attention. Suddenly, for example, there were many more invitation requests for his shows.

→ Traina says the foundational items for any wardrobe are a great pair of blue jeans, a classic white shirt, a black cashmere sweater, cigarette pants and a little black dress.

VANESSA TRAINA ASSEMBLED BRANDS

It’s the small details that make the space feel like a home—letters in a drawer or wellbrowsed books. There’s a Poul Kjaerholm table in the dining room. In the closet, a dress by J.W. Anderson keeps company with a color-blocked Reed Krakoff sweater and a Christophe Lemaire handbag. In the living room, a Mapplethorpe photograph on consignment from a private art dealer sits above a Clam chair by Philip Arctander that relaxes into the shag of a vintage Moroccan boucherouite rug. Welcome to The Apartment. Cur ate d by New York–bas ed fashion co n-sul t ant , s t yl i st and cre ati ve dir ect or Vanessa Traina, it is the brick-and-mortar incarnation of luxury e-commerce website The Line. The site offers a comprehensive combination of fashion staples, furniture, housewares, beauty, books and art, and Traina has been with the company since its inception in 2013. The same year, The Apartment opened in a third-floor Soho loft, where Traina’s taut edits live in the context of a plush domestic setting. (In 2015, Traina and her partner, Morgan Wendelborn, opened an LA outpost, too.) Although residential retail is not revolutionary, The Apartment spaces elevate the showroom to a more interactive, multidimensional level, responding to the market’s craving for exp eri ence over cons um pti on , stor i es over stuff . Like m any, Tr aina is drawn t o t he notion that an object’s history can bring people together. Having grown up in a large, close-knit family, she was quick to envision the detailed home retail concept. A San Francisco native, Traina has an austere beauty: barely made up, natural and understated. Avid readers of the fashion press know that she likes Mark Rothko, drinks Earl Grey tea with milk and honey and is a “moderate overpacker.” But she can be guarded, too. Traina is the daughter of romance novelist Danielle Steel, one of the best-selling authors in the world. Steel married four times and raised seven children. (Two of Traina’s sisters also work in the fashion industry.) Behind the artifice of privilege, it is a relief to discover honesty, clarity and accessibility in her work. Traina spends the day moving between her in-house merchandising and store teams, photo studio and designers. She selects products, designs stores and works with graphic and interior designers from brand inception to runway styling. She still art directs the site as well, including editorial features called Explore the Stories, and oversees the design of an in-house line called Tenfold—cashmere throws, brass vessels, shallow horn bowls—that has all the earmarks of her lush minimalism: materially rich, but clean of line and unassuming, an emphatic understatement. “I’m an editor foremost,” she says. But one could argue that her real skill is combining the building blocks of lifestyle branding into a covetable, consumable 360degree productscape. Many artists recontextualize mediums from dance to haute

couture. Traina’s vision, on the other hand, takes ordinary life (products she calls “the fundamentals of daily living”) and makes it extraordinary. Her medium is the everyday. Admittedly, Traina’s everyday is privileged—European travel, boating weekends, glam parties, getaways to the Napa ranch, entire fall wardrobes ordered from Marc Jacobs in one sitting. But this means that for most of her life, she has been not just watching style but wearing it, eating off it, sleeping under it—practicing style until her choices became intuitive. “Creativity is so innate and personal,” she says. “I don’t think it’s learned [from others]. I think we develop it. As we gain experience and mature, it matures.” She continues, “I couldn’t tell you why I like the things that I like. But I can tell you that I’m decisive and direct and fast. And that has helped in working with designers.” Indeed, collaborations and friendships have offered rich veins of inspiration. Alexander Wang was a high school classmate. For her wedding in 2016, Riccardo Tisci made her dress; Joseph Altuzarra attended the San Francisco ceremony and Proenza Schouler’s Lazaro Hernandez caught the bouquet.Before launching The Line, Traina did fashion research, brand building and styling for diverse designers and houses—she was a close witness to everything from Wang’s restrained urban tailoring to the folkloric collages of Altuzarra, from Reed Krakoff’s color-blocked precision to Erdem’s rebellion with lace and tulle. Versatile and pragmatic, wide-ranging in both her research and imagination, Traina can move from eclectic to layered to streamlined with ease. Her creativity is not bound by trends. Having access to the industry’s catwalks and showrooms has also been a recurring source of raw material. Traina and her sisters grew up in their mother’s closets. Steel, who had once wanted to become “the new Chanel” while studying at Parsons School of Design, instead became a keen observer of fashion, exposing her daughters to diverse material cultures by living in them, often literally. During Paris Fashion Week, for example, Steel would rent an entire floor of the Ritz-Carlton. “Attending couture shows with my mother was formative,” Traina says. “She introduced us at such a young age to a world that we would not have been exposed to until much later in life. With my mother, I saw Ferre at Dior, Galliano’s Dior years, Versace shows when Gianni was there, Yves Saint Laurent when Yves was there, Valentino at Valentino, Oscar at Balmain, Christian Lacroix, Chanel. I saw a different world than the fashion that’s around today.” Looking through Steel’s lens, her daughter began to develop an eye all her own. “Today, with new media, there’s so much access to the industry that many people are familiar with its inner workings,” she explains. “But 15, 20 years ago, no one really talked about [the vocation of fashion]. There wasn’t as much transparency, so a stylist was like an invisible hand. No one knew they were backstage at shows or so involved behind the scenes of the industry. But I saw stylists at work.” As a teenager, when she and her sister were photographed by Mario Testino for Teen Vogue, she had her first opportunity to watch a stylist on set. Camilla Nickerson’s work for The Face and American Vogue has been described as layered, cerebral, minimalist and “fiercely” modern. “I was so impressed at that moment,” Traina recalls. “It all came together. I had known that I wanted to work in fashion, but then I knew in exactly what

capacity.” In 2007, Traina met French fashion designer Joseph Altuzarra in Paris, just before he left Givenchy to launch his own brand a year later. Following her six-month internship at Vogue Paris under Carine Roitfeld in 2008, Traina and Altuzarra moved to New York at the same time and began to develop his label together. Altuzarra’s aesthetic is folkloric and funky, rife with unusually juxtaposed details—a tube top over a tunic, paillettes of flowers across an appliquéd bodice, hot colors mixed into neutrals. “To be involved in a brand from the start, to be part of that story, has played a major role in my career and vision,” Traina says. Today, her creative vision doesn’t fetishize fashion; instead it sees people in products and elegance in the everyday. “There’s a sense of immediacy [at The Apartment] when customers interact with a product. They don’t know how they’ll translate it into their own lives, but there’s comfort and familiarity there,” she says. “They say, ‘I want to live here.’ And when we hear that, we know we’ve succeeded.” *

I’m an editor foremost.

PROTAGONIST The first in the Assembled Brands stable, Protagonist debuted in 2013 as The Line’s in-house ready-to-wear collection. Founded by Kate Wendelborn and developed in collaboration with Traina, the label has a decidedly modern mission: creating refined silhouettes that evolve from season to season designed to add character and relevance to classic foundation pieces—all with a keen focus on inspiring the woman who wears them. Now under the design direction of Georgia Lazzaro, the brand has gone from strength to strength, winning the adoration of the press and fashion insiders alike. As Vogue’s Emily Farra reflected, “The big difference between Protagonist and other minimal brands is that even the sparest pieces never feel cold or aloof; surprising colors and tweaks in fit and silhouette lend a bit of warmth and approachability.”

Traina’s workload is intimidating, but she relishes the challenge and keeps a solid routine: breakfast and Ballet Beautiful in the morning and a hot bath at night.

← Though he no longer lives in his hometown, Pilati thinks fondly of the city. “Milan is beautiful,” he says. “I recognize myself in its architecture, in its colors.”

STEFANO PILATI RANDOM IDENTITIES YVES SAINT LAURENT

As former creative director at Yves Saint Laurent, Stefano Pilati is finally lying low, and loving it. “My experience gave me a lot, but it also took a lot away from me,” he says. “And that’s why I’m excited now. I don’t need those filters anymore.” Pilati’s passion for fashion design is undeniable, and he relishes the labor that goes into it. “When you work for a big company, you have less and less time to do your job effectively,” he explains. “Now I find myself doing more within the day-to-day design process.” Pilati exudes enthusiasm while discussing his current project, Random Identities, which he describes as “a combination of technical advancements for a new and personal way to approach fashion.” Pilati is revered not only for his designs (like the highly sensational tulip skirt) but also for his unconventional yet elegant personal style. “People who don’t know me think that my style is a big effort, but it’s not an effort at all,” he muses. It is, he adds, always evolving based on his environment. His home and office share the same space, the two upper floors of a historical building in Berlin. (Pilati notes that the adjacency of his studio and living space is a conscious choice. “It allows me to isolate myself in my own creativity,” he says.) Having moved to the German capital several years ago, he has had to adjust his style to the “temperature of the climate, both literally and figuratively.”

→ Pilati met Yves Saint Laurent only once, but treasures the letters he sent, signed with the word “amitié” (“friendship”). The designer passed away in 2008.

Art chooses you, not the other way around. I think fashion, in all of its forms, chose me.

Pilati’s fashion sense came to him early. “Immediately,” he clarifies. “When I was maybe four or five.” And from the start, he discovered that clothes were a means of c ommuni cati on. The de s i gner , who was rais ed in Mi l an, acknowledges t he importance of his roots. In the Italian city, he says, people were very stylish. “My own style was monitored and maybe, to a certain extent, even taught by those in the fashion environment I was drawn to,” he reflects. Pilati entered the industry at 17, working as an intern for designer Nino Cerruti. “It wasn’t easy,” he recalls. “When you’re both young and talented, people become very jealous. The adult world isn’t very nice.” It also was difficult being gay in the ’80s, he remembers. “We were trying to shape honest spaces around ourselves—everybody was fighting for that.” Following the internship, he received his first job, with a velvet manufacturer, before being hired as menswear assistant to Giorgio Armani in 1993. After a couple of years, he joined Prada as part of the senior design team. Then, in 2000, he moved to Paris to work for Yves Saint Laurent and was named the house’s creative director in 2004. Reflecting on his career to date, Pilati expresses few regrets, save one: “I think that I could have been a good artist,” he says. When considering the life of an artist and fashion designer, Pilati makes a singular comparison. “Possession,” he reveals. “Think of the masters. You can’t produce any powerful art unless you’re possessed by it. Art chooses you, not the other way around. I think fashion, in all of its forms, chose me.” Yet art is still a major influence, and he counts himself lucky to have had mentors who were collectors, offering him access to the “masters of the past and present.” In his spare time, Pilati prefers to “write or create,” but when he reads, he is particular about the books he chooses. “I need to learn something, be inspired,” he says. “Currently, I’m reading a book about how trees communicate.” The designer has long looked to nature for inspiration. His former Paris apartment opened up into a large garden landscaped by renowned designer Louis Benech, and his home in Berlin borders the city’s largest park. “Nature reminds me that no matter how creative and successful I am, I can never achieve that certain level of beauty. “Nature makes you feel very small,” he continues. “It’s a good way to get back in touch with your real inner self.” It is evident that Pilati is enormously self-aware, but he’s also constantly tuned in to the world around him. Such heightened perception has been a major factor in his decision to stay in Berlin. “Milan, Paris and London are cities where it is very difficult, in my opinion, to not be nostalgic,” he explains. “I believe we are in an era where we all need to look forward, and Berlin is a place that moves me to do so.” When it comes to his biggest source of inspiration, the designer has no doubts: “It is the people around me,” he says. For much of his life, he worked with older people, but now, in his 50s, Pilati increasingly finds satisfaction in connecting with those who are younger than him. “I draw inspiration from being around people not of my generation,” he says. Though he moved to Berlin explicitly “not to be social,” Pilati discovered the city’s club culture, something he missed earlier in life. While exploring and talking with its regulars, he gained perspective “on the world, outside institutions, convention, genders and a new kind of relationship with sexuality that inspires style.”

Pilati’s enthusiasm for youth also translates to designers. “I moved to Paris in 2000,” he says. “And for more than a decade, the industry was about revamping big brands. I love seeing young kids putting something out there and believing in it.” In 2016, he made waves by sitting front row and showing support for designer Telfar Clemens. The following year, he walked the catwalk for emerging Berlin label GmbH. Wo r k ing on his own pr oject s, l i ke Random Ident i ti es, Pi l ati ai m s to “incubate and exchange, to create conversation with young designers, as well as musicians, DJs and other creatives.” He teases new designs with Instagram’s Stories feature. First testing the platform during Paris Fashion Week in 2017, he shared several looks—all black, genderless and seasonless—inspired by his friends and their aforementioned conversations. “I do still believe in this job,” he says adamantly. “But the system, in my opinion, is in a crisis. I don’t want young designers to lose hope because in a sense, I did lose it. I’m pushing myself to create hope right now, and to tell you the truth, I don’t care about any other form of success.”*

← In 2017, Pilati told Vogue Italia that he sees his home country as one of “creative dreamers,” naming the likes of Gianni Versace and Giorgio Armani

CLARE WAIGHT KELLER

→ Waight Keller cites music as a major influence. To celebrate the in-store launch of her Spring/Summer 2018 collection, she hosted performances by female musicians. GIVENCHY CHLOÉ PRINGLE OF SCOTLAND GUCCI

When it was announced that Clare Waight Keller would leave her post as creative director at Chloé and take over at much larger Parisian house Givenchy, eyebrows were certainly raised. Although Waight Keller had been lauded for transforming Chloé, imbuing her collections with a distinctive vision of redefined femininity, her appointment at Givenchy was seen as a departure. Having worked previously as creative director at Pringle of Scotland and as senior designer at Gucci and Calvin Klein before that, and despite that successful Chloé turnaround, Waight Keller was seen as something of a mystery. Looking back, this slight English woman, now in her mid-40s, is unfazed. “I knew there would be a lot of attention, but I didn’t really think about it,” she says at Givenchy’s offices on Avenue Georges V, where she commutes each week after weekends with her family in London. “As far as I was concerned, it was the start of a new journey.” And quickly, less mysterious but with serene determination, Waight Keller allows her own working style to be understood. If there is an air of the unknown about the designer, despite her accomplished résumé, it’s perhaps due to her exceptionally rapid rise at a very early stage. “The biggest break in my career was really my first one,” she confesses, looking back to the early ’90s, when she was offered a design role at Calvin Klein before finishing her

master’s program at London’s RCA.† That massive initial break, which allowed her to experience both New York and all the practicalities of working for an established fashion house, meant Waight Keller entered the industry almost by stealth, before devising her own creative identity. “At that stage I didn’t want to set something up on my own—I just wanted to get stuck in to the industry and get more knowledge first,” she says, recalling those formative New York years. “We learned to work really fast.” Despite the pace of the city and its inspiring, gritty urban culture, Waight Keller found it lacking in creativity. “It was one of the main reasons I left New York. I felt stifled.” She moved on to Paris, where both her current Givenchy role and her previous Chloé position were intertwined with the very notion of Parisian style, and where she demonstrated an almost studious approach to interpreting the French capital. “You don’t really understand Parisian style until you live here. And then you realize that there is a quite clearly defined approach to the way women dress,” she says, adding that the Parisian woman is very edited and knows her own sense of personal style. “There is none of this metamorphosis that you find in other places,” she says. Can this sense of discipline define Waight Keller, too? Moreover, has an English woman really managed to crack the Parisians? This she jokingly refutes, as if keen to brush away any easy assumptions.

The Royal College of Art’s fashion program was founded by former Vogue editor Madge Garland in 1948. The university has been influential in training many of today’s celebrated designers, including Waight Keller, Christopher Bailey, Peter Copping and milliner Philip Treacy.

Her hint of nonchalance is overshadowed by a more reserved and considered demeanor, one often described as serene. In an industry so dominated by overtly flamboyant (and usually male) characters, Waight Keller has cultivated a calmer management style. “I have worked for crazy people, so I know when you get that sort of anxiety in a room, it affects you as a designer and the people working for you—you don’t get the best out of them,” she confides frankly. “I prefer calmness, which brings a sense of comfort to a working process that is very intense.” This calm, composed demeanor, however, might be mistaken for a cautious approach, one that is less combative but ultimately selective. Such a characterization is clearly not something that Givenchy’s new creative head is willing to entertain. As she describes her working style, it’s easy to build a picture of an acutely observant way of directing. “I talk a lot during meetings; there is a lot of information that comes out as I’m working through things, in the fittings and while choosing fabrics. I go through the style process, so in that sense, there is a very clear idea to how I approach my work.” In fact, it becomes apparent that far from being a serene and silent presence, Waight Keller has a very talkative and thoroughly open quality. “Whenever there is tension, usually it is because someone has not shared something,” she continues. “I think that’s often when things go wrong.” When heading up such a well-known and expansive fashion house, with its many divisions, surely maintaining creative integrity is a challenge. Moving into a bigger brand, does the artistic director find the pressure to sell all consuming? “I think that

the balance is increasingly hard,” she ponders. “The size of the business has become such that you need to have a base of things that are—let’s say—consistent.” She then begins explaining the function and approach to different collections and products of the Givenchy brand: From eyewear to children’s clothing, to the couture of the shows and, most important, the pre-show collections, there is no doubt where Waight Keller’s passion lies. “For me, the shows are absolutely the most exciting part. There is no balance between the creative and the commercial. It really is a pure expression of creativity.” Looking back at her career, Givenchy’s artistic director surmises that she has always relished getting under the skin of something else. “I find the whole process of understanding a brand and then developing into it very intriguing,” she says, rejecting what she calls a “knee-jerk” reaction to always wanting to create something new. This considered brand cultivation is something that defines Waight Keller and perhaps explains why she was drafted to reinterpret one of the most prestigious Paris fashion houses, rather than simply transform it. Her much-anticipated first collection for Givenchy was advertised locally with the help of a black cat that appeared on WANTED posters around town. “Back at Chloé, the identity of the brand was tied to the spirit of the clothes and the look of the girl,” she explains. “Here it’s different. It’s a much more exciting platform to go from, as it’s a blank page!” This new canvas, where models of the feline rather than human variety take center stage, is showing the fashion industry that a safe pair of hands can still offer plenty of surprises.* Waight Keller arrived at the 2018 Met Gala alongside actress Rooney Mara, who donned a blue and silver gown from the designer’s Spring couture collection. Shortly after, Mara was named Givenchy’s new fragrance ambassador.

The biggest break in my career was really my first one.

← Van Noten says the simple act of gardening saved him and his relationship during the ’90s. The designer collaborated with landscape architect Erik Dhont on a sprawling 55-acre park and garden at his home in Leir.

DRIES VAN NOTEN DRIES VAN NOTEN

It’s been roughly three decades since Belgian designer Dries Van Noten made his name in the fashion industry by taking a caravan of clothes across the Channel to show in London. Five fellow graduates of the Antwerp Royal Academy of Fine Arts, including Ann Demeulemeester, Walter Van Beirendonck and Dirk Bikkembergs, famously joined him. The Antwerp Six, as they called themselves, gained immediate notoriety for their avant-garde, highly original creative vision, and Van Noten’s personal ascent has been steady ever since. Yet you might not know it. The softspoken Belgian still lives close to Antwerp. He still runs and owns the company. He has never advertised. In almost every way, Van Noten has stayed true to the graduate he was in the early 1980s. To him, there would be no other way. “I’ve never lived in a big city because I’ve always been quite comfortable here,” he says. “It allows me to be inspired. A big city can eat your energy, I think.” Growing up in a household governed by clothes, Van Noten was almost destined to become a fashion designer. His grandfather mended secondhand clothes during the World Wars while his father ran a series of boutiques. Van Noten’s mother collected antique linen and lace and worked in a fashion store. Having been surrounded by the garment business, he says, could have gone one of two ways: “I could have said, ‘No, I want to do the complete opposite.’ But I loved it. I adored the whole world. Originally the idea was that I was going to take over the business, which was about buying and selling clothes. Quite quickly, though, I discovered that designing clothes was even more fun.”

Creatively, Van Noten has always followed his own path. He is known for intelligent, considered clothes instead of fast, showy fashion. Pattern, color and a stern Northern European romance are the three loose pillars that have defined his career, but never exclusively. His is a style resolutely difficult to categorize, possibly because Van Noten resists getting into the habit of starting a new season in any particular way. He has no tried-and-tested tricks beyond having a fresh slate. “We clean up the table every time we start a collection. I like the creative arc to go through questioning, putting things on the table, redoing them. Sometimes you come out where you started, sometimes it’s a logical evolution of the season before, but it’s never that I think, ‘We sold this last season really well so let’s continue like that,’” he explains. “We start all over again and see where we end up.” Van Noten also likes to be organized but not pathologically so. Most of the time, he can be found sitting at one of two tables—one for womenswear, one for men’s—but he likes to work organically. “It’s not like I keep Tuesday afternoons and Monday mornings for knitwear,” he says. India is a source of in-trig ue for the designer. “I learned a lot from India, and I think my Indian manufacturers learned a lot from me,” he explained to Vogue, noting that “gold doesn’t always have to be brash and shiny; gold can be also subtle,” and that “the value of handwork is so important.”

We start all over again and see where we end up.

Success was almost immediate for Van Noten and his Antwerp Six comrades. He remembers there being a healthy, positive competition between them: collegiate, in that they all learned from each other, and yet competitive, in that they pushed each other forward. Van Noten’s big break came when, having gone solo, he received an order from Barneys New York, which remains a loyal customer to this day. “They bought big quantities so immediately I was like, ‘Oops, I have to organize production.’ It was 36 of this and 55 of those,” he recalls. “My apartment became an office with fabric all over the kitchen and shipping and everything in the sitting room.” It was the 1980s, and the Belgian wave had followed an exciting opening in the fashion world. There was Giorgio Armani and the Italian movement in the late 1970s; the English set including Vivienne Westwood, John Galliano and the New Romantics; the first Comme des Garçons collection in 1981 followed by Yohji Yamamoto the year after. Fashion was thirsty, open-minded and highly global: the perfect context for six graduates from the lowlands to make their name. “We’re talking about all of this in just six years!” he reflects. “It proved to us that if people would accept fashion from Japan, maybe they’d accept fashion from the most unfashionable country in the world: Belgium.” The group initially had reservations, though. Flemish names are famously tricky to pronounce, and the Antwerp Six had all considered changing theirs to something easier. “We were all very jealous of Martin Margiela [an honorary member of the group] because he had an Italian-sounding name,” Van Noten says. Today, you get the feeling that his extracurricular activities are as important as the work—and deeply connected to it. He is a keen gardener and likes making jam. He and his partner, Patrick, enjoy art fairs and exhibitions. They regularly go to Italy for short trips, or take the car to England to visit stately homes and gardens there. All these elements feed back into Van Noten’s collections subtly, implicitly and— occasionally—rather slowly. “Sometimes something that you took notice of 20 years ago suddenly makes sense. It’s not like I see an exhibition and it automatically comes across in the next collection,” he says. It’s perhaps this sponge-like creative process that explains the layered, unclassifiable quality of his work. “The collections that I make now are more mature because I’ve seen more things and learned more things,” he says. Yet age has not necessarily brought wisdom; it’s something Van Noten has had all along. He has always maintained both creative control of the company and control of its business operations. He is one of the few figures in fashion who balances the title of creative director with that of chief executive and therefore has never been worn into the ground by the pressures of 10 collections per season, plus fragrances and ad campaigns. The Dries Van Noten brand has never become a burden to him, but is something to indulge in alongside his other interests like food, gardening and art. He says creating, consuming and—crucially—enjoying things is an important balance to keep. “To enjoy a garden, you have to walk in it, you have to eat from it. With food, if you make the most beautiful cake and there is no one there to eat it, what purpose does it have?” he says. “I love to make clothes, but people have to wear them; otherwise, I don’t see the sense in it.” *

← Celebrating his 100th fashion show in 2017, the designer spent his entire budget to bring back the models from previous shows.

→ Yamamoto says he can’t imagine himself retired. “I also think it’s hard to imagine my brand without me,” he told i-D. “I think Yohji Yamamoto will die with Yohji Yamamoto.”

YOHJI YAMAMOTO YOHJI YAMAMOTO Y-3 Y’S

Known for his philosophical approach to design, Yohji Yamamoto is one of fashion’s most pioneering and idiosyncratic thinkers, often finding lyrical parallels between clothing and the curiosity of the human condition. “Just as man lives and grows old, so too does fabric live and age,” he theorizes in his poetic 2010 autobiography, My Dear Bomb. “When fabric is left to age for a year or two, it naturally contracts, and at this point, it reveals its charm.” Alongside contemporaries including Rei Kawakubo, Issey Miyake and Keno Takada, Yamamoto was one of the leading proponents of the avant-garde design wave that emerged from Japan in the 1970s and ’80s. Artfully mixing high concept and traditional craftsmanship, they transformed global fashion with radical new ideas on gender, streetwear and contemporary garment construction. If it’s possible to define the Yamamoto signature, it is perhaps his uncanny desire to design clothing that feels aged, preworn and imperfect. “I think perfection is ugly,” he stated in his 2002 publication Talking to Myself. “Somewhere in the things humans make, I want to see scars, failure, disorder, distortion.” As such, his unstructured, “anti-fit” silhouettes with their asymmetric lines, distressed finishes and raw seams create a masterful sense of dishevelment. Often turning to ancient Japanese draping and European tailoring techniques for inspiration, Yamamoto also provides an oddly familiar touch to his collections. By infusing his designs with age and wear, Yamamoto attempts to create the security of a favorite old sweater or coat that envelops and guards the wearer’s body. “I make clothing like armor,” he told Details magazine in 2005. “My clothing protects you from unwelcome eyes.” This singular vision often places Yamamoto at odds with current trends. “I want to achieve anti-fashion through fashion. That’s why I’m always heading in my own direction, in parallel to fashion,” he explains in Talking to Myself. Throughout his long career he has always opposed trend-led design, often decrying the superficiality of fast fashion and modern digital culture. Instead, his vision is a more subversive driving force that counterbalances the momentum and direction of contemporary style. “I hate fashion,” he later reveals. “Or the word fashion, which sounds colorful, extravagant, expensive and gorgeous. I never wanted to walk the main street of fashion. I have been walking the sidewalks of fashion from the beginning, so I’m a bit dark.” Yamamoto spent his early life studying law in Tokyo, but soon after graduating and starting to work in the field, he realized that he had no real interest in pursuing it as a career. At the time, his mother owned a dressmaking business, and it was while

working for her that he learned how to cut and sew from skilled seamstresses. Quickly discovering a talent for design and tailoring, he enrolled in the prestigious Bunka Fashion College. Yamamoto’s first label was launched in 1972 in Tokyo, a ready-towear women’s line called Y’s, with a namesake men’s line launching two years later. In the early 1980s he moved to Paris, the city where his young brands would flourish and develop their signature eclectic mix—androgynous silhouettes informed by historical design references and a decidedly modern elegance. In 2003, Adidas and Yamamoto debuted a new sportswear line called Y-3. The “Y” stands for Yohji Yamamoto, the “3” represents Adidas’ three signature stripes, and the dash signifies the bond between the two. The collaboration pioneered the breakdown between sport and fashion, well before the buzzword “athleisure” was ever uttered.

My clothing protects you from unwelcome eyes. His first show caused outrage in parts of the fashion world, condemned as “Hiroshima chic” by many in the French press who were shocked by his fiercely abstract all-black looks. Yet others seemed to instantly recognize something interesting in his work, and as he continued to find his voice as a designer, he achieved growing acclaim for using his platform as a way to discuss new cultural shifts. Today, Yamamoto’s multiple fashion lines have a cultlike level of devotion around the world. Continually challenging notions of what fashion can be, he has undertaken unique collaborations with brands such as Adidas, Hermès and Mikimoto as well as artists, filmmakers and choreographers including Heiner Müller, Wim Wenders and Pina Bausch.† In recognition of his contributions to culture and fashion, he has received an array of notable awards including France’s Chevalier de l’Ordre des Arts et des Lettres and the Medal of Honor with Purple Ribbon from the government of Japan. Yamamoto himself is an enigma. Rarely giving interviews, he appears equal parts bold iconoclast and introspective, humble philosopher. In a 2013 conversation with his friend and collaborator Wim Wenders for Interview magazine, Yamamoto told the filmmaker, “I feel like I have become a living fossil in the fashion world . . . I was on a Japanese designers’ pedestal—considered a maestro. My design was getting closer to a couturier’s work, and I felt like I was missing something.” He continued, “At a certain point, I stopped seeing my clothing worn by people on the streets . . . it seemed like they were being treated as museum items.” His work may examine complex, cerebral ideas but Yamamoto wants above all for his collections to connect with the simple realities of life. To this point, his autobiography offers readers a wry piece of advice: “Rather than prattle on endlessly about art and concept, one is better served by living.”*

→ Growing up in poverty with a widowed mother, Yamamoto says he realized that the world was unfair by the age of five.

→ The Cannes-born designer only realized the possibility of a future in fashion after seeing an Yves Saint Laurent show on television.

BOUCHRA JARRAR BOUCHRA JARRAR LANVIN BALENCIAGA

Bouchra Jarrar sits tucked behind the colonnade on the terrace of Le Nemours, a Parisian bistro located between the Louvre and the Palais-Royal gardens. Facing Place Colette, she peers out at the mix of Parisians and tourists. Jarrar is petite; her signature bangs fall into her eyes, making her look like a French version of Emily the Strange. She speaks softly, but makes gestures that betray a buzzing enthusiasm. Before being appointed to helm Lanvin, the French designer was often described as “under the radar” or a “best-kept secret.” In an industry where party circuit exhibitionism and social media visibility is often lionized, she reasons that her discretion may be her strength. “One can exist through the power of one’s signature, like the plume of an auteur” —or, as she otherwise puts it: “My work has always spoken for me.” Indeed it has. She was anointed an Officier de l’Ordre des Arts et des Lettres—one of France’s highest honors—in 2017 and has been immersed in the milieu since graduating from Paris’ prestigious École Duperré in 1994. She embraces the fact that the profession requires not simply the whimsy of design but, just as crucially, a harmony of management and operational savvy. Fashion, she says, is “a chain of people; it’s not just glitter.” Jarrar began her career at Jean-Paul Gaultier before moving to Balenciaga, where she directed the studio under Nicolas Ghesquière for a decade, and eventually to Christian Lacroix, where she was head of haute couture design for 18 months, until the label closed in 2009.

↑ Jarrar is an avowed city girl, but she loves taking a breather in nature. She frequently drives to Parc de Saint-Cloud, west of Paris, to walk in its sprawling forests.

One can exist through the power of one’s signature, like the plume of an auteur. My work has always spoken for me. Having completed a kind of fashion cycle—le début, la fin—she launched her own label in 2010. “I wanted to experience independence. I was motivated despite the crisis in 2008. I didn’t know how I would hold up,” she admits, “but with instinct and passion, you stop calculating.” She sustained her eponymous self-funded label for seven years, selling her clothes at retailers like Bergdorf Goodman and Milan’s 10

Corso Como. She shuttered the label in March 2016 to steer Lanvin, a much-scrutinized stint that lasted 15 months (fashion critic Alexander Fury preemptively wrote in March 2016: “It is something of a mission—to many an unenviable one”). Ultimately, the fit wasn’t right. “I wanted to preserve myself and move forward, strong in my creativity,” she says diplomatically of the departure. Jarrar decided not to revive her namesake label, however. “I’m in my full maturity,” she says. “I take my time, because our knowledge and our work is precious. Our achievements must be placed at the service of beautiful projects.” Without knowing what those projects are, she is open to possibilities and enjoying independence—a sentiment echoed by her favorite Comme des Garçons shirt, which reads, “Wear your freedom.” One current side project away from the spotlight that Jarrar has been participating in is a nonprofit association initiating women in difficult situations into the world of fashion. The endeavor is not a school—rather, it is a means of helping women who endured unspeakable hardships reintegrate into society, by gaining a new skill set and a sense of self-esteem. “The goal is to make them perceive a horizon line,” Jarrar says. “To tell them: You can get out of this.” † Raised in Cannes and the second-to-last of seven siblings in a family of Moroccan origin, Jarrar attributes her interest in education to the household she grew up in. “My parents always taught us that you had to provide guidance for the sibling who came after you,” she remembers. “So I like transmitting.” Fashion has been the way she relays this connection. Throughout her youth, she made things for her sisters, “sewing, knitting, being a tiny old woman,” she laughs. That sisterly attitude extends to her approach at large. “I want to accompany women, to help them face things,” she says. “I like to channel things that I feel intuitively— I find that word suits me—into making something that helps you stand up straighter, because we are not always feeling our best.” She finds that “a vêtement accompanies you, and it relaxes you.” A garment can even provide a helpful directive for one’s fluctuating moods: “One jacket versus another provides a different attitude.” Overall, Jarrar loves all sorts of artistry: any endeavor that “works the hand and the brain and the eye,” she says. But she does have fashion favoritism: “It’s still amazing to start from scratch, with a flat cloth, and to imagine the volume. It’s sculpture.” She marvels at the possibilities. “I am a gourmand,” she says of her creative voraciousness. “When I have the best technicians at my disposal? I will try anything.” *

Our knowledge and our work is precious.

→ Moralioglu cites the worlds of David Lynch, particularly the cult drama Twin Peaks, as an early influence.

ERDEM MORALIOGLU

ERDEM

→ Despite dropping out of Boy Scouts, Moralioglu told Harper’s Bazaar that he was a sporty kid.“There was a big, beautiful lake at the end of my street, so I hung out there a lot,” he says of the idyllic suburban setting he grew up in.

I wanted to create something that people would identify with me. Designer Erdem Moralioglu wakes himself up with a strong coffee and a sobering dip in his local London Fields pool most mornings. “I’m a creature of habit,” he admits, “and I think there’s something about being underwater that helps me to start my day.” The founder of the eponymous fashion label Erdem doesn’t like to deviate from his professional routine either. “I work very much in the same way now as I did when I was in college,” he explains. “I’d always sit in the same seat in the library and just research and draw, research and draw, research and draw,” he says. “I tend to draw everything.” And while he is no longer a card-carrying member of his alma mater’s library, he still frequents one when he needs to focus. “I recently joined the London Library. Have you been? It’s amazing,” he enthuses, waxing lyrical about the largest independent lending library in the world. He likes to sequester himself in its magnificent Victorian Reading Room—a favorite spot when he’s craving solitude, which he singles out as an imperative part of his creative pr ocess. “Som etim es I n eed to withdraw, be i n my he ad and hide out ,” he expl ains. “It helps to be alone and just look.” Although he is admittedly introspective, Moralioglu is also insatiably curious. “I always have my eyes and ears open; I’m constantly questioning everything,” he says. “I went straight from college to starting my own label, so in a way it’s the only job that I’ve ever had, and the only way I could get from A to B was to ask lots of questions.” He says he had to feel his way through everything. “And I still do,” he laughs. “It’s a work in progress.” Born in Canada in 1976, Moralioglu and his fraternal twin, Sara, were the only children of Erkal, a chemical engineer from Turkey, and Marlene, a housewife from Birmingham. He became interested in women’s fashion at a young age. “I was fascinated with how women look from very early on, even when I was a child,” he

says. “I was interested in how they spoke to each other. I loved to watch my mother and her friends—my mum was a huge influence on me.” Moralioglu credits her with his love of art, history and travel. The family lived in Montreal but spent holidays abroad with foreign relatives. “I traveled with my family from an early age, which I think was really important. We’d go to the street markets of Istanbul and to the Tower of London,” he remembers. “It was so amazing to see and experience those contrasts as a child.”

If he could be anything other than a designer, Moralioglu says he would own a bookstore. He collects works from contemporary and historical photographers, including Wolfgang Tillmans, Anne Collier and Cecil Beaton.

I always have my eyes and ears open. Despite his desire to travel, Moralioglu remained in Canada to study fashion at Ryerson University before a scholarship awarded by the British Council brought him to London, where he attended the Royal College of Art from 2001 to 2004. A year after his graduation, he launched his label at London Fashion Week’s Fashion Fringe with a debut collection of overtly feminine frocks and bold floral prints that would soon become synonymous with his name. “I wanted to create something that people would identify with me; to create my own platform and my own language, one that hopefully speaks to a lot of different women,” he explains. “There’s no greater pleasure than seeing a woman wearing your work,” he says. “I still remember when

my first collection was bought by Barneys New York on Madison and I got to see people wearing my designs. It was the most wonderful feeling.” Since then, Moralioglu’s clothes have been worn by some of the world’s most recognizable women: Michelle Obama, Keira Knightley, Gwyneth Paltrow, Alexa Chung, Julianne Moore, Linda Evangelista, Emma Watson, Sarah Jessica Parker, Claudia Schiffer and the Duchess of Cambridge to name a few. He has received numerous accolades as well, including the inaugural British Fashion Council and Vogue Designer Fashion Fund award in 2010, an honor that came with a £200,000 prize—the largest sum on record given to a UK-based designer. The former editor of Vogue Alexandra Shulman described his designs as “womanly without being stodgy and exuberant without being garish” in a 2015 profile. Romantic is another adjective often used to describe the label. For its founder, it’s all about storytelling. “I’ve always been inspired by the visual and the cinematic, and if you pay attention, there’s always a cause and effect in my stories,” Moralioglu says, alluding to the dramatic narratives at play on the catwalk at an Erdem show. “As a child, I was equally obsessed with Hitchcock and Merchant Ivory films, and I still am,” he adds. Cinematic inspirations for previous collections have included Bernardo Bertolucci’s The Conformist (1970), Katharine Hepburn in The African Queen (1951), Ingmar Bergman’s Persona (1966), Luchino Visconti’s Death in Venice (1971) and the actresses Romy Schneider, Jeanne Moreau, Goldie Hawn, Vivien Leigh and Adele Astaire. The legacy of French fashion designer Yves Saint Laurent is another recurring influence. “I have always loved Saint Laurent,” Moralioglu says. “I think that he created something that is forever. He was so incredibly independent and visionary.” This idea of forever was also an important factor when the designer opened his debut Erdem boutique in London in 2015. “What was so wonderful about it was that I had complete creative freedom to design the space that I envisioned,” he says of the flagship store, a 2,000-square-foot, two-story shop in Mayfair. “I want it to be like a pied-à-terre—when you walk in, you should immediately understand the Erdem woman and her world.” The process was extremely gratifying, and one he hopes will c on t i nue, but h e adm i ts t hat hi s b i gges t ch all enge is ti me. “I t hi nk ther e’s trem endous pressure on any designer working today to deliver a lot of work in a very short period of time,” he explains. “There’s this idea that once you get on the treadmill, you have to keep running.” For Moralioglu, knowing when to take time out is as important as maximizing his day. “The hardest thing is knowing when to close your eyes and block your ears, you know? It’s important that I know my own limitations and when to shut off,” he explains. With several projects in the pipeline and a new collection to start researching, Moralioglu doesn’t show any signs of slowing down, but he’s happy with the status quo. “If in 10 years’ time things were to continue the way they are now, that would be really fantastic,” he says. “I’d be happy with that.” *

CORYBANTIC GAMES Seeing The Nutcracker as a child inspired Moralioglu’s enduring love of the ballet— as he recalled in an interview with The Guardian, his “mind was blown.” Achieving a lifelong ambition, he was commissioned to design the costumes for Corybantic Games, a new piece in the Royal Ballet’s 2018 program. Choreographed by Christopher Wheeldon, the one-act ballet is part of centenary celebrations paying tribute to the late composer Leonard Bernstein.

← Rodin values her health above all else. The style icon is a vegetarian and keeps fit by walking her dog.

LINDA RODIN LINDA AND WINKS LINDA HOPP RODIN OLIO LUSSO

Silver-coiffed, bright-lipped and brilliantly bespectacled, fashion icon Linda Rodin has been immortalized in the pages of Vogue, and in campaigns for the Row, Karen Walker and J. Crew. She’s spent the past five decades wearing many different hats— as a model, boutique owner, stylist and, most recently, entrepreneur. Having left the beauty industry last October, she is about to launch a new passion project very soon— one she would never have thought of even a year ago. “I wouldn’t know what to do if I wasn’t working,” she says in her Long Island lilt. “When you’re creative, you can’t switch off. You’re stimulated by everything around you, so even if you go out for dinner, the smallest thing—a tablecloth, for instance— could give you an idea.” For Rodin, inspiration isn’t hard to find if you’re present in your surroundings: “I think it’s about keeping your eyes open, you know?” She believes in the adage that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and that anything and everything can spark the imagination. “It can be something mundane, like these folds in my bedspread,” she says from the bedroom in her Chelsea apartment. Rodin is undoubtedly an expert when it comes to transforming the ordinary into the extraordinary and spends most weekends foraging at flea markets. “Markets are my idea of heaven because you never know what you might see!” she exclaims. Spotting a diamond in the rough—a “beautiful fender on an ugly car”—keeps this magpie motivated. “That’s what makes life glorious, you know?” It is this attitude in particular—“there’s beauty in simplicity”—that led her to create the skincare brand Rodin Olio Lusso in 2007. Her signature product, Rodin Olio Lusso Luxury Face Oil, was born of necessity. “Everything I create is for myself because if I like it, I feel like someone else might like it, too,” she explains. And for Rodin, there always has to be a personal connection. “I don’t understand how someone could create something they don’t have a passion for,” she says. “If I don’t like it, how can I make it great?” She also says that creating for someone else is a guessing game. “You know, you can never make everyone happy,” she explains. “You’re either creative and do something to please yourself, or you’re commercial and you assume people will like something because it’s got a track record.” She shrugs. “It depends what type of person you are.” For Rodin, it wasn’t until 1979, when she opened Linda Hopp, one of the first clothing stores on West Broadway, that she realized she might have a future in a creative space. The Soho boutique was filled with Bauhaus furniture and sold Rodin’s

own designs alongside clothes she liked. New Yorker writer Kennedy Fraser described it as “wonderfully intelligent” at the time, while Rodin recalls “a fabulous shop, completely unique and offbeat.” It closed in 1980 “because of very practical things like money. But it gave me the green light to be creative,” she remembers. It also highlighted her desire to go at it alone. “I was running the show, and I think that was really important to me,” she adds. In fact, Rodin has always been freelance. “I’m better at structuring myself. I get a lot more done,” she admits. And while she likes to make to-do lists and sets herself daily goals, she doesn’t respond well to a traditional office environment. “I’ve always worked the same way no matter what. I like to work at home. I don’t know how people go from meeting to meeting,” she says. “Nothing gets accomplished.”

In 2004, Rodin flew to Italy to style her idol Bob Dylan courtesy of Victoria’s Secret. The company’s “Angels in Venice” campaign was highly controversial at the time, not least of all for its unlikely spokesman. Rodin, long an admirer of Dylan, recalls the experience as a career highlight.

I always say one step informs the next.

← “He is much smarter than me,” Rodin says of her dog, Winks. “He knows every morning when I wake up what kind of day it’s going be—one with me around or one that involves our dog walker.”

As for her creative process, Rodin finds it hard to pinpoint her “eureka moments” but says she feels “very lucky” to have them. Ideas, she says, can become a reality “when something makes total sense to you. I think that’s the key.” Since stepping

down as creative director of Rodin Olio Lusso in 2017, the polymath has been working on a new project and is full of enthusiasm. “It’s not like I get a lightbulb or anything,” she explains. “It takes time before I can start to put the pieces together. Then I get really excited and start moving full steam ahead.” Rodin carries scraps of ideas with her at all times. “It’s all in my head,” she says— and in her phone. A self-proclaimed “collector of images,” she prefers Instagram to mood boards and inspiration walls. “Instagram is like a magical encyclopedia,” she enthuses. “I’m not looking at what people are wearing, their food or vacation. But I do really enjoy finding pictures of things I never knew existed, people I never knew existed, islands I never knew existed.” Her own Instagram account highlights snapshots of her mini-me gray poodle, Winks (her “muse”), as well as still lifes from her colorful apartment, New York tableaus and evocative family photos. “I’m a very nostalgic person,” she reveals. “I’m very melancholy and very sentimental about certain things.” Thinking back on her mother, a woman who “did what she wanted to do and definitely followed her own beat,” she remembers returning from school to find that the kitchen had been redecorated with new wallpaper. “It was black with these big royal blue flowers on it—and remember, this was pre-Warhol. My sister and I were horrified, but it was so creative and beautiful.” Rodin’s brother became an architect and her late sister was a photographer. “We didn’t realize it at the time, but we were learning so much by osmosis,” she says. Their father was a dentist, “and to him that was very creative, like a puzzle—making people’s teeth look perfect.”

When you’re creative, you can’t switch off. You’re stimulated by everything around you. “It wasn’t so much an intellectual household,” she says, “but a very artistic and creative one.” Rodin’s family continued to play an important role in her career trajectory. Her sister was the one who suggested that she try styling, which led to a 40-year career in the fashion industry. Rodin claims that while she’s never had a plan, her decisions have always worked out in her favor. “I always say one step informs the next,” she explains. “Maybe with foresight I should have done something else, but I’ve enjoyed the road I’ve taken. I’ve just turned 70, and I’m starting something new.” *

→ In 2008, Powerlist named the Casely-Hayfords the most influential black family in the UK. The fatherson duo launched the luxury menswear brand Casely-Hayford in 2009.

JOE & CHARLIE CASELY-HAYFORD CASELY-HAYFORD

← Known for its traditional bespoke tailoring, Central London’s Savile Row, from where the CaselyHayfords draw inspiration, has been home to the world’s most classic suit designers since the 18th century.

I designed distressed and deconstructed clothes as a metaphor for the turbulent times we were living in. When asked about his personal style, Joe Casely-Hayford, co-founder of the eponymous London-based menswear brand, describes it simply: future classic. A nod to the brand’s sartorial influences, these two words are the embodiment of Joe and his son Charlie Casely-Hayford’s cutting-edge designs. Merging streetwear and classic men’s fashion, Casely-Hayford simultaneously represents the avant-garde aspects of contemporary fashion, as well as the classic cuts, fits and construction of traditional menswear found on Savile Row. After studying traditional techniques at London’s Tailor & Cutter Academy, followed by art courses at Central Saint Martins, Joe started his first solo collection in 1984. He discovered a warehouse on Clink Street filled with World War II tents and used the fabric to make a clothing line that he sold to Bloomingdale’s and Joseph. Soon after, Joe was hired as the styling consultant for Island Records, where he dressed everyone from Lou Reed to U2, Bobby Gillespie and genre-defining band The Clash. “I was young and inexperienced when The Clash’s manager contacted me. I didn’t have a studio, so I borrowed one from a friend, covered the walls with examples of my work and got the gig,” Joe remembers. “I emulated the formal gray suits of the establishment, but mine came with the seams torn open and colored linings spilling out. It was a time of social unease, and I designed distressed and

deconstructed clothes as a metaphor for the turbulent times we were living in.” By adorning bands in such designs, Joe was using clothing to make a statement about the era’s social unrest. As a result, he became a key figure during London’s countercultural punk movement in the late ’70s and early ’80s. “I was fortunate to be born at a time that meant I would experience the birth of youth culture and watch the major youth cults emerge in real time,” he says. “From mods and rockers to skinheads and hippies and of course punks and goths. These were exciting times, in which we could challenge the status quo with powerful design statements.” Likewise, Charlie’s inspirations stem from a similar cultural awareness. Growing up with a fashion designer father, he was exposed to Joe’s creative influences from a young age. “My dad lived through London’s skinhead culture, punk, mods, New Romantics, the rise of hip-hop and rave culture. By comparison, I got the tail end of Brit-pop and the revival of nu-rave. I grew up with my friends creating our style from hybrids of subcultures we had never experienced,” Charlie says. Exploring the generational split between the father-son duo has been part of their design dialogue since the beginning. “A running theme throughout our collection has been dissecting the divide of me growing up in the digital age and the cultural ramifications of this in comparison to my dad’s upbringing,” Charlie says. The hybridization of these different subcultural aesthetics is summarized by Charlie’s self-described style as “sartorial skinhead.”

→ Driven by social unrest and working-class solidarity, skinheads in the 1960s and 1980s were known for shaved heads, Dr. Martens boots, high-waisted jeans and T-shirts. Joe’s early '80s work with British punk band The Clash embodied the aesthetic.

This intersection of London culture is woven into every thread of the CaselyHayford brand, and developing the house DNA happened naturally, as a conversation between father and son. “My dad was creative director of Savile Row tailor Gieves & Hawkes and had just taken the brand onto the runway during Paris Fashion Week for the first time,” Charlie says. “I remember us vividly exchanging a few words

backstage about our aspirations, and within a year, he had departed from G&H so we could start a family business.” Together, they recognized a gap in the fashion industry. “In London, there were two distinct strands—heritage companies or younger, more innovative street-influenced brands,” Joe says. “There was no common ground, no crossing point between these two worlds. We felt confident that there was an opening for an authentic British brand with credentials in tailoring and street culture.” Now, they look at each collection as a reflection of their personal dialogues and perceptions of the ever-evolving landscape of London. “A strong sense of duality emerges through each season’s message, as well as discussions about the disparate elements and jarring cultures that come together to make the city so unique,” Charlie says. From punk to nu-wave, Savile Row to East London, Casely-Hayford maintains cultural relevance while always remaining true to its hometown heritage. The duo strives to make clothes with a memory, with a story and purpose, they say. *

Drake, Sam Smith, James Blake and Lewis Hamilton are just a few of the highprofile names to sport Casely-Hayford designs and embrace the duo’s pluralist approach.

We strive to make clothes with a memory, with a story.

← An only child, Van Assche spent his time sketching, reading magazines and watching music videos.

KRIS VAN ASSCHE BERLUTI KRIS VAN ASSCHE DIOR HOMME

From 2007 until 2018, Belgian designer Kris Van Assche was at the helm of Dior Homme, making him its longest serving creative director, until he was tapped to take on the role at Berluti. Such longevity was bolstered by his diligent work ethic: known for his immaculate craftsmanship, unexpected narratives and rigorous attention to detail, he is a self-confessed “organization freak.” Describing his methods as “military” in their precision, Van Assche believes his approach is necessary in fashion. “It comes with the job,” he says. “I have a very regular, very punctual way of working.” For Van Assche, routine is not a bad word. “I like to plan ahead as much as I can,” he explains. The 42-year-old has been planning ahead since he was 10 and discovered that being a fashion designer was “a real job.” An only child, Van Assche describes his parents as “classically conservative people”—his mother was a secretary; his father worked in the car industry—and recalls that he was often obliged to amuse himself. He spent an inordinate amount of time in his childhood bedroom “inventing stories, sketching and drawing” before he discovered Madonna, Jean-Paul Gaultier and fashion design. “I hadn’t really thought about it before, but once I learned that people were making the clothes I was wearing, I immediately knew that that was going to be my direction,” he says. Following fellow Belgian designers Martin Margiela, Dries Van Noten and Ann Demeulemeester, Van Assche left his small Flemish hometown of Londerzeel to study fashion at the prestigious Royal Academy of Fine Arts in Antwerp in 1994. After graduating, he swiftly landed an internship at Yves Saint Laurent with Hedi Slimane, who brought the young designer with him to Dior two years later. In 2004, Van Assche left to launch his eponymous menswear label, but when Slimane departed Dior Homme in 2007, it was Van Assche whom the fashion house called to replace his former mentor, the poster boy of modern menswear. “This last decade was such a roller-coaster ride. Dior is high-level competition fashion—it’s kind of like the Olympic Games,” he says of the pressure. “We operated on a really small scale at my own label—I had a lot to learn as a twenty-something designer at Dior. It was a very different creative process, but that’s why I accepted the position.”

The thing that I’m ultimately working toward is creative satisfaction, but where that is and with whom that is, I have no idea.

He says a flexible, responsive team is key. “There’s no such thing as the lonely designer sketching in his kitchen,” he laughs. “At least that’s not the way I work. My team is super loyal and super important.” Van Assche approaches every collection in the same way: with a collage he can use to illustrate his ideas and start a discussion. “It’s kind of an organic process; my new collection really begins the day before I show my current one because there are always things you want to improve,” he explains. “I’m in a constant competition with myself, trying to make sure that the next collection is better than the previous one.” Over the last decade, Van Assche’s collections for Dior have become synonymous with the juxtaposition of Homme’s sartorial suiting and its designer’s love of subcultures—a motley crew of technicolor club kids, prickly punks, new wave dreamers, gender-warped goths and insouciant skaters share the catwalk with sharply dressed dandies, dapper gents and suited and booted mods. “I like ideas that create a conflict,” he says. “When it’s just about one single thing, it gets a little boring.” He adds, “I like to contrast two ideas in one look.” Indeed, “contrast” is a word that features heavily in the designer’s vocabulary, used to describe his primary inspirations on more than one (or several) occasions. “The first thing I always think about is the contrast—or how to create the clash,” he reflects. “Since Dior Homme is about elegance, tailoring and know-how, I wanted to contrast that with street and sportswear, and ideas of youth culture.” His personal approach is nothing new, he says. “I’ve been playing around with those ideas for a long time, but they worked even better when I contrasted them with the conservative tailoring the brand is known for,” he adds. Van Assche’s appreciation for the unpredictable has garnered a more youthful fan base for Dior Homme, which is reflected by the diverse crew of brand ambassadors—think musicians A$AP Rocky and Oliver Sim of The xx alongside the Pet Shop Boys and Depeche Mode’s Dave Gahan and Boy George, as well as actors Lucas Hedges, Robert Pattinson, Charlie Plummer and Rami Malek and the cult filmmaker Larry Clark. It’s quite the lineup, yet Van Assche is adamant that he doesn’t design with a muse in mind. “I tend to think that muses are paralyzing, you know? They trap you in a certain world or universe,” he says. Which is not to say that he doesn’t enjoy collaborating with other creatives: “Whether it’s an artist, a photographer, a director or whatever, I’m interested in them because of their personality—that’s the whole point,” he explains. “When I work with an artist, the idea is not to change his art but to find connections with each other,” he adds. “I find those collaborations super inspiring because I like to think that I approach them with an open mind.” With so much creative stimulation does the designer ever feel uninspired? “Sometimes. At that point I think you just have to accept that it’s time to leave the office there’s no point in staring at a blank page,” he says. “If I’m feeling creatively blocked, I like to go home or have dinner with friends. It’s good to press the reset button and clear your head.” In 2015, Van Assche shuttered his own label to concentrate on Dior Homme fulltime.When asked about his plans for the future, having left the brand and started afresh at Berluti, he prefers to focus on the present. “I think it would be really pretent i ous t o have an i dea of wher e I wi ll be in 10 year s,” he expl ai ns . “The ai m , t he

t hing t hat I’ m ul tim at ely worki ng t owar d, i s creat i ve satis- fact ion, but wher e t hat is and with whom that is, I have no idea.” *

LARRY CLARK Van Assche’s admiration of Larry Clark is well-known. The Kids director is “a major reference point,” Van Assche said in an interview with The New York Times. “It is therefore only normal that I had pictures of him and his work all over my mood boards.” As well as enlisting Clark to appear in the Dior Homme Autumn/Winter 2016 campaign alongside A$AP Rocky, Rod Paradot and Dylan Roques, he commissioned him to create a short film when the house debuted a new sneaker collection. In Clark’s signature lo-fi style, the film follows a youthful cast of Dior-clad models and skaters as they wander and conquer the streets of Paris.

← Of his appointment to Berluti, Van Assche said in a statement, “I have always wanted to build bridges between the savoir faire, the heritage of a house, and my clear-cut contemporary vision.”

→ Through Opening Ceremony, Leon and Lim were among the first to introduce Americans to brands like Acne and Topshop.

CAROL LIM & HUMBERTO LEON OPENING CEREMONY KENZO

One of the most enduring duos in fashion, creative directors, retailers and designers Carol Lim and Humberto Leon credit their prolonged success to a shared mind-set. “We have the same point of view, the same goals and the same inspirations,” explains Lim, who met her best friend and future business partner as a sophomore at the University of California, Berkeley, in 1993. Neither studied fashion—Lim majored in economics, Leon psychology and art—but they share a similar background: both were raised in the Los Angeles suburbs, children of immigrants. They both name their mothers as early creative influences. “My mom would sew garments at home, and I would always watch her make things from scratch,” says Leon. For Lim, her mother’s jewelry store and the buying trips they went on together were an important part of her childhood. “Humberto and I didn’t know each other then, but we both loved music and going to see shows in LA,” she says. “I think those kind of cultural experiences really set the foundation for our relationship. When we met at Berkeley, we were able to bond over the same things,” she adds. After graduating, Lim followed Leon to New York, and in 2002 they founded their shop, Opening Ceremony. The name alludes to their passion for the Olympics and, according to Leon, a shared “love for traveling, eating, hanging out and shopping.” The store, in New York’s Chinatown, was a chance to showcase friends’ designs alongside their own playful streetwear and new brands discovered on buying trips everywhere from China to Brazil. “In a very simple and almost naïve way, we thought, ‘Let’s lift up everything we love and build a job around it,’” Leon says. “It gave us the opportunity to meet a bunch of new people in all different parts of the world,” he adds, describing Opening Ceremony as equal parts retail store and community center. Customers come “to shop or just talk about their day,” he says. “We didn’t know what we were building when it started—it kind of just built itself organically.” The community includes friends and collaborators—actress Chloë Sevigny, filmmaker Spike Jonze, artist Andrew Kuo, Rodarte designers Kate and Laura Mulleavy, photographer Ryan McGinley and choreographer Justin Peck, to name a few—as well as the New York “it” crowd that has frequented the store since it opened (musician Michael Stipe was reportedly their first customer). “We’re lucky to be surrounded by amazing people,” says Leon, “right down to our Opening Ceremony staff—they’re equally inspiring.”

We thought, ‘let’s lift up everything we

love and build a job around it.’ Over a decade later, the Opening Ceremony universe continues to expand. Asked about the secret to their success, Lim says, “The one thing we do, no matter what, is start the day together.” Initially, it was agreed that the economics graduate would look after accounts, leaving Leon to take charge of creative direction, but after 15 years side by side, Lim points out that they have “absorbed each other’s skill sets in many ways.” Although neither is a designer by trade (nor do they claim to be), Lim and Leon were made creative directors of the Parisian brand Kenzo in 2011. The decision was a surprise for some, but Lim and Leon quickly silenced any doubters. Taking on a declining brand, they introduced streetwear onto the French fashion house’s runway and watched the customer base switch from 70 percent aged over 50 to 70 percent aged younger than 30. “We wanted to shake things up and challenge the norm,” Leon says. As to whether they approach Opening Ceremony and Kenzo in the same way, he believes there is a constant pushing of the envelope. “We’ve always been a champion of youth, the underdogs and the new, and we want to bring that same energy to Kenzo. Whether it’s working with an artist instead of a photographer, or doing films instead of ad campaigns, all of these things are inherently Carol and me.” Another trademark is their unique take on fashion week traditions. Instead of a parade of models down the runway, Lim and Leon’s inaugural Paris Fashion Week show was a series of mini shows at Kenzo’s headquarters, featuring a live soundtrack performed by actor and drummer Jason Schwartzman. Similarly dynamic presentations have foll-owed, including unexpected locations and surprising soundtracks ranging from a skate park to a 200-strong choir belting out Janet Jackson’s 1989 hit “Rhythm Nation.” “At the end of the day, we’re storytellers,” says Leon. “We’re speaking not just to an elite group of people but to a larger audience—we want the suburban us to be captured by what we’re working on.” With Opening Ceremony, Lim and Leon are still creating the story 15 years later. The duo held their first solo New York Fashion Week Opening Ceremony show in 2013 on the West Side Highway, where models emerged from sleek sports cars. They described the collection at the time as “a love letter to New York, where our company was born, a tribute to Carol’s Korean background and to the street racing culture from our suburban Los Angeles adolescence.” As to what the future might hold, Leon says they’re constantly thinking about what’s next. “Opening Ceremony has legs to adapt with the community, but it also has a core message, which is celebrating newness,” he says. Ultimately, they want it to remain “a go-to for people to see things they might not have seen before,” adds Lim. Do they have somewhere to go to when they feel uninspired? “That never really happens,” Leon laughs. “We do so much outside of work, separately and together. We get really excited about things, and I think that’s probably why we’re still doing what we’re doing. We have a lot of ideas in our back pocket that we can’t wait to unleash.”*

Opening Ceremony was named after the Olympic tradition of coming together, something the friends and business partners try to do every morning.

The duo spent a decade in corporate jobs—Leon as a design director at The Gap and Burberry and Lim as a management consultant—before launching Opening Ceremony in 2002.

← Howell is the rare female designer who launched her label with menswear, basing it entirely on her own style.

MARGARET HOWELL

MARGARET HOWELL

← Howell’s clothes are known to include nothing extemporaneous. She says they’re created to be adaptable and useful.

Margaret Howell looks back fondly to the early days of her career, when, fresh out ofart school she decided to craft and sell papier-mâché jewelry. Those early items seem remarkably expressive, and as the 71-year-old icon of British design will testify, the work hinted at the craftsmanship to come. Over the course of her career, Howell has intentionally sidestepped an industry she has undeniably influenced. “I am a clothes designer rather than a fashion designer,” she says. A discreet, utilitarian appreciation for materials seems almost standard now when looking at the higher end of the market for garments or furniture. Walking around Howell’s flagship store on London’s Wigmore Street, which stocks many carefully selected volumes on design and architecture and various furniture pieces as well as the namesake collections, it’s easy to forget that this was not always the case. The marriage of midcentury modern design and contemporary fashion is something that Howell helped pioneer at the store since opening the location in 2002. “Back then, Scandinavian and American designers were getting a lot of coverage,” she says. “Becoming aware that I was being known as a British designer, I thought we would try and promote some of our own good British designers.” Thus began what Howell likens to a duty, one that has resulted in the likes of Ercol and other masterful British names being featured in the space.

I am a clothes designer rather than a fashion designer. The same eye drives her own brand. “I have always looked out for beautifully made objects, seeking out specialist British manufacturers, such as Whitehouse Cox

producing leather goods and Mackintosh for raincoats,” she says. Her love for what the British call jumble sales and charity shops is clear by the sparkle in her eye; although she laments the lack of excitement (or much treasure) about such places today. But for this designer, inspiration comes in all forms: from photography to the scraps found on factory floors, and from the “minimal, almost modernist” landscapes of Suffolk and the South Downs to the rugged Yorkshire Moors. Howell also lauds the perfect team that surrounds her (including her managing director for the past 25 years, Richard Craig) for allowing her to keep her hands on the reins. “I think my style has remained consistent,” she says, “a casualness with good-quality, well-made clothes.” *

← Howell founded her business with partner Paul Renshaw in the early 1970s, shortly after graduating from Goldsmiths College, University of London, with a fine art degree. She says she was destined to be a designer, in part, because she relished the sort of project that started with a creative brief.

↑ Howell began promoting her favorite midcentury British designs—Robert Welch cutlery and Anglepoise lamps—at her flagship London store in 2002. Today, she has more than 100 stores in Japan and 10 in Europe.

→ For much of his career, the Queens native has lived in the same home where he grew up.

TELFAR CLEMENS TELFAR

As is so often the case, the designer Telfar Clemens is ecstatic with laughter. In Milan for the Italian presentation of his namesake brand, he finds that the tendencies of the local fashion denizens offer him much to appreciate. “Men wear suits to parties!” he squeals, sipping a plastic flute of champagne at a magazine soirée. Men wear suits everywhere in Italy, of course, but it takes an outsider to notice. Clemens, the only casually dressed man at the party, sports his own creations: a black-and-white baseball T-shirt, boot-cut jeans with legs made of knit sweater material and his graphic TC logo as a gold necklace and earrings. A woman festooned in head-to-toe sequins glides past. “These people are so into sparkling,” he gushes. More laughter. But his commentary is affectionate, even motivational—he suggests later that he should make suits. The Queens-based designer, who spent his early childhood in his family’s native Liberia, is a keen observer of style norms. As such, he’s fixated on deconstructing—and subverting—the conventional ways people dress. Created in collaboration with the artist Babak Radboy and stylist Avena Gallagher, his satirically nonconformist designs—often twisted reinventions of American classics such as polo shirts, cargo pants, jeans, tracksuits and more—won him the 2017 CFDA/Vogue Fashion Fund prize, a prestigious award that includes $400,000 and mentoring from an industry giant. Clemens showed his first collection more than a decade ago at age 18, but, frustrated by a lack of momentum, he nearly called it quits before the CFDA crowned him a leading light in American fashion. “I feel like I was really smart in the early years of my brand,” he says, sipping a rosé while watching the Saturday afternoon sidewalk parade of locals from a Porta Nuova café. “People are really open after the CFDA, because they need that kind of validation from an institution, but my codes were all there already in the beginning. It’s still about me looking at what really regular people are wearing,” he says, “and trans forming your perception with my take on it.” A round-faced infant in preppie nautical gear waddles by the table. “That baby looks amazing,” he giggles. “Everyone’s so into looking ‘rock’ now in America, even grandmas,” Clemens says. Outside the window of the café, he spots a ponytailed blonde woman wearing what in Milan constitutes a run-of-the-mill “rock chick” outfit: a studded wool overcoat, a studded sweater and studded black cowboy boots. The designer whistles, then lets out a storm of laughter. “I could turn that into such an amazing look!” *

← In 2017, the hamburger chain White Castle commissioned the designer to make the uniforms for its employees nationwide.

CENTURY 21 As a teenager, Clemens would track down his favorite European fashion labels at Century 21, New York’s beloved discount department store chain. Its downtown Manhattan flagship is a one-stop shop for the city’s bargain hunters and as Telfar’s ebullient creative director Babak Radboy, pictured here, told Dazed, the kind of place where you could “buy a microwave and Helmut Lang.” In 2017, Clemens launched a capsule collection for the store’s conceptual showroom Next Century. The designer described it as a “democratic fashion experience” where customers could shape the upcoming Telfar collection by voting for their favorite pieces on Instagram.

← In 2017, Doré hosted a series of experimental reading events and a creative workshop in Morocco.

GARANCE DORÉ ATELIER DORÉ

“I’m going to be very honest—when I started [Atelier Doré], I had no real vision. It was a leap of faith, a last chance type of thing,” says French creative director Garance Doré. Today, she’s one of the fashion world’s most-watched editors. Her celebrated creative studio and website are founded on the concept of honest conversation. With a curated mix of photographs, illustrations and Doré’s signature stream-of-conscious writing, her storytelling platform is filled with content aimed to inspire readers to lead more creative lifestyles. “At the time, almost 12 years ago, there was no blog success story. I simply listened to my intuition, before even knowing that I actually had an intuition,” she says. Doré started her globally recognized platform while living on France’s Mediterranean coast in Marseille. When her website started gaining attention, she moved to Paris, where she began sharing even more of her personal style-focused monologues. Forging a path through the world of fashion, Doré went from being an aspiring illustrator in rural France to the founder of her own media property. “I started selfishly. I was honestly looking for myself. Through illustrations and photos, I wanted to find my own definition of elegance,” she remembers. “I also needed an outlet for sharing my work and felt there had to be a better way to progress as an artist than waiting for my illustrations to appear in magazines.” People quickly connected with the honesty and humanity within her work. In turn, brands and magazines came calling, and Doré was soon sitting front row at fashion shows, selling her own designed products and collaborating with a multitude of fashion lines. Yet she still finds herself looking back to her early childhood experiences for inspiration. “No matter where I am now, I will always remember that I come from a tiny village (with no road access!) in Corsica,” she says. “Childhood is the time of life when we’re allowed to dream. Not only did I grow up among wild, protected nature, but everything I am today was contained within the child that I was. For years, I tried to be what society pushed me to be, only to discover that I knew everything all along. Everything I needed was always within me—I had just buried it.” Those early experiences also informed her writing, defined for its rare vulnerability, an inside look at the musings of a chic and authentic Parisian woman. “Through my words, I found my own definition of a well-lived life,” she says. “Obviously books, people, movies, music, and magazines inspired me along the way, but they were more like touches of the right direction within a giant painting.” Her real driving force has always been her internal journey to find true meaning. “This is a never-ending quest!” she says.

Doré says the wild protected landscape she experienced while growing up in Corsica allowed her to dream. The island is the fourth largest in the Mediterranean Sea and part of the 18 regions of France. Two-thirds of the island, located southeast of the French mainland, is made up of mountains.

I’m going to be very honest— when I started, I had no real vision. When it comes to style icons, Doré has connected with various women throughout the years. “The truly lasting one for me is Lauren Hutton,” she says. “I see her often at my local coffee shop, and she hasn’t lost an ounce of beauty. She’s truly herself, and her style reflects that. To me that’s exactly what style is—it sounds simple, but it’s very complicated to know exactly who you are!” In person, Doré certainly exudes the essence of a woman who knows exactly who she is. She’s authentic, always showcasing herself as the epitome of her online persona—friendly, naturally beautiful, warm and inspirational. When it comes to her own style, she points to her heritage and roots. “I’m a mix of many cultures—Italian, Moroccan, French and Corsican—and that’s made me who I am. I like ease, simplicity and sensuality,” she says. “The French trait that I love most is subtlety. French people don’t shout; instead they whisper. That’s something I embody as a fashion personality.” People from all over the world follow her inspirations: Doré’s website is an

international community where readers can connect and share. “That’s what I love most about my career—those instances when I’m able to inspire other women to find their own way, and to find their own voice. I also love the freedom; it’s the most important thing for me.” Conquering both New York and Los Angeles with ease, Doré has proved her place within the fashion world. Armed with courage, she has the tendency to leave comfort behind in order to feel “slightly lost” and become an outsider in a new place. “I would never have had the same journey had I stayed in France. I love America for the personal freedom I’m experiencing here. People let you be who you want to be,” she says. For Doré, her Los Angeles studio is a dream come true. “It’s the only place in the world that’s completely mine. I can see the colors in the sky when the sun rises and when the sun sets, which is inspiring,” she says. Behind her personal creative curtain, there’s much soul-searching to be found. “My work is really about life—what it means to be happy, to be present, to be a woman. To not let the pressure of the world drive us crazy. To be connected with ourselves. All of these things are infused into my work,” she says, “which helps me get closer to my own truth. And on that path to my true self, I hope I’m helping others around me. To me, that’s the real mission.” *

← In 2012, Doré received the CFDA Eugenia Sheppard Media Award for contributions to the transformation of the fashion media landscape.

→ Growing up in a small town, Anderson was one of three children. According to his father, a former rugby player, his son was crazy about animals.

JONATHAN ANDERSON JW ANDERSON LOEWE

Jonathan Anderson is a force to be reckoned with. Based between Paris and London, the fashion designer, now in his mid-30s, approaches his craft like a modern-day curator, generating a rapid stream of idiosyncratic ideas and stories that manifest into ready-to-wear collections, accessories, exhibitions and more. “You have to try to remove the exclusive and elitist element, and remember the craft and culture,” he says. Between his eponymous line, JW Anderson, and the luxury Spanish house Loewe, Anderson currently shows a total of 12 collections a year—which is no mean feat, considering the level of ingenuity and craftsmanship that remains imperative to both brands. Becoming fashion’s boy wonder, however, wasn’t his first ambition. Hailing from Magherafelt in Northern Ireland, Anderson was actively pursuing a career in acting when he took a job selling menswear in a luxury department store to pay the bills. It was a pivotal time in men’s fashion, with Tom Ford at the helm of Gucci, Hedi Slimane at Yves Saint Laurent and Prada pushing the boundaries of what was considered to be conventionally masculine. He recalls studying the materiality of the clothes and rearranging the in-store displays obsessively. Eventually, his interest led him to the London College of Fashion, where he completed a degree in menswear design while also moonlighting as a visual merchandiser for Prada. After graduating, he continued working for the house under the tutelage of Miuccia Prada’s right-hand woman, Manuela Pavesi, until he launched his menswear line in 2008.

I believe that collaboration is one of the most important things in any field. Anderson’s output proved captivating from the outset. His debut Spring/Summer collection explored the notion of gender confusion and featured an outré lineup of sheer shorts, silk robes, lush knits and necklaces spun from twisted ropes and tchotchke. His casual interweaving of men’s and women’s clothing felt elegant and ingeniously progressive—and has remained a constant thread in his aesthetic to date. Yet, he only really gathered pace as a designer once he introduced womenswear to his arsenal in 2010. From that point, the international press took note, intrigued by his mélange of cultural references and his novel way of integrating antiquated craft techniques into

bold, unisex silhouettes. It was his Spring/Summer 2012 women’s collection that ultimately catapulted him from industry secret to emerging tastemaker. From Paisley pajama-style separates to deconstructed cardigan dresses, the line was championed by socialites, buyers and street- style stars with social media clout. Less than a year later, Anderson also spearheaded a sell-out capsule collection for high street retailer Topshop and enjoyed a successful stint as guest designer for Versus, Versace’s sister line. The stamp of commercial approval came in 2013, when luxury conglomerate LVMH acquired a minority stake in his brand, allowing Anderson to grow it exponentially. Shortly after, he was appointed creative director of Loewe, which raised quite a few eyebrows. What could a then-30-year-old designer have to offer a house so steeped in tradition? His vision for the brand was inspired by memories of childhood holidays in Ibiza, and remains deeply personal to this day. Gone were the baroque traces of his predecessor Stuart Vevers, and in sauntered an organic, off-kilter take on bohemia. Of course, Anderson owes much of his own expressions to those of others. “It’s about creative output, community and people,” he says. “I believe that collaboration is one of the most important things in any field. Everyone has something to learn from one another.” He is an avid collector of contemporary art, sculpture and ceramics— think Lucie Rie and Hans Coper—and his shows are often framed within a set containing multiple artworks. One of his first moves at Loewe was introducing an annual craft prize, helping to prevent craft from being seen as a lower form of art. In 2017, The Hepworth Wakefield also invited him to curate his first ever exhibition, Disobedient Bodies. Whether executed through clothes or an ambitious exhibit, his combination of unlikely sources remains his greatest gift. “When different disciplines meet,” he adds, “it creates this amazing unpredictability.”*

When different disciplines meet, it creates this amazing unpredictability.

DISOBEDIENT BODIES Blending his long-standing passion for modern art and his creative preoccupation with human form, Anderson curated the groundbreaking 2017 exhibition Disobedient Bodies at The Hepworth Wakefield. The sprawling show was a uniquely personal vision, aiming to place art in direct dialogue with fashion: figurative sculptures by artists including Jean Arp, Sarah Lucas, Louise Bourgeois, Henry Moore and Barbara Hepworth in conversation with fashion pieces by Christian Dior, Comme des Garçons, Issey Miyake, Helmut Lang and Jean-Paul Gaultier. “This is a rare and exciting opportunity for me to bring together some of the works of art and fashion that long inspired my own creative work,” Anderson enthused, “and to see what happens when these objects rub up against each other.” Boldly exploring gender, identity and the body, the exhibition was widely praised for recontextualizing both fashion and figurative art as potent conduits for new ideas.

← Ossendrijver has dressed everyone from Kanye and Jay-Z to Orlando Bloom and David Beckham.

LUCAS OSSENDRIJVER LANVIN

Discussing his longevity at Lanvin, the Dutch designer says 11 years in fashion amounts to three lifetimes in human years. “Knowing what the turnover is like at design houses,” he told The Telegraph last year, “I never thought I would stay so long.”

“I love everything that has to do with construction,” designer Lucas Ossendrijver declares. The longtime head of menswear at Lanvin is not a man to design with pencil and paper but rather to build as an architect might, in three dimensions. It’s a passion that started well before an interest in clothing. Growing up, Ossendrijver had a father who ran a construction company in a rural town 30 miles south of Amsterdam; the designer’s playthings were wood and tools, crafting his pastime. Today, the 48-yearold still puts his hands to work. He just rebuilt a wooden bench, in fact. It took 10 days to fix and reassemble, but it’s sturdier and more beautiful than ever, according to the designer. He beams, amused with himself. “Fashion for me is about making things—being creative and doing things with your hands,” says the low-key, lanky Dutchman with a moon of sandy hair. To devise the clothing of his métier, he begins by dismantling an existing garment, unraveling the seams of a vintage piece, perhaps, or something from one of his previous collections. “I’m just looking for new technical solutions to a lot of problems,” he says. ”That’s basically the process of creating fashion.” Ossendrijver reconfigures the clothes, shifting them and pinning them on a mannequin until he’s satisfied and a toile pattern can be made to produce the garment in its ultimate fabric. He draws the final design only when the piece is complete, he says, a frill “just for the sales catalog.”

“With menswear, it’s all about construction,” he says. “It’s all about what’s on the inside.” Sculpting and shaping the materials in three dimensions, Ossendrijver is the rare designer who does not start by conjuring a style or type of man he’s designing for. Rather, his starting point is the clothing itself, some classic menswear staple or another. He will study it, taking out the stitching to peer into its innards and find ways to adjust the tailoring, creating through his very shapes something that perfectly defines the modern man: slim, rigorously precise, but effortless and multivalent, simultaneously formal and casual. He has devised sneakers and sportswear that pair perfectly with suits, for example, and suits relaxed enough to couple with T-shirts. It’s a successfully unstudied style now enshrined in the canon of contemporary menswear. Part of the charm is a circumscribed dishevelment that Ossendrijver injects into his designs—a few real-life effects like creases and pleats pressed into the clean shapes that soften the garb and provide “fun surprises for the wearer,” he says. “At the runway show, everything goes by so quickly that you don’t perceive these little flourishes, but fashion is about giving pleasure, so you need to create things to discover in the details.” Lanvin is Paris’ oldest surviving fashion house; its town house of offices faces the rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré flagship store that has remained open since Jeanne Lanvin launched the brand back in 1889. In this century, Lanvin has reblossomed as a leading style maison under the creative direction of Alber Elbaz, who brought Ossendrijver on board to head menswear in 2005. After a long, lauded run, Elbaz was suddenly and controversially fired in 2015, plunging the brand into chaos, but Ossendrijver’s department has endured peacefully, and the two designers remain close friends. “It’s such a journey we went through together,” he says. “But I felt ready to step out on my own and do things with my team, so my way of working hasn’t changed.” In fact, his steadfast engineer’s approach to fashion has managed to withstand the storms of a capricious industry, and his enthusiasm remains intact. “The chaos makes me more sure,” he says. “You just learn to trust your intuition even more.”

I never feel blasé. Everything is always evolving. It takes a certain talent to thrive amid tumult, but Ossendrijver seems completely consumed by the task, as evident by the four collections he produces a year. (Until 2013, the standard was a collection for spring and one for fall, but twice yearly “precollections” have since been added to the schedule at Lanvin and most major brands.) “I never feel blasé,” he says. “Everything is always evolving. If I presented a collection two days after the show, it would probably be different already.” “People think fashion is about trying to realize an idea,” he says, “but the idea that I start with is almost never what’s going to end up on the runway. There’s a whole process of input from the team.” Ossendrijver is both the first and final voice in the

studio, of course, but he still sees designing as a group activity, one that flourishes thanks to the strong opinions of his fellow designers, who infuse his initial concepts with new directions. “Designing is about letting go of preconceived concepts,” Ossendrijver says, his voice firming up with conviction. “The most important thing is the creativity, to always keep pushing forward.” *

FASHION ARCHIVE

← Dior revolutionized postwar fashion in 1947 with his New Look style, iconic for its floral patterns.

1905–1957

CHRISTIAN DIOR

Christian Dior opened his eponymous haute couture house in Paris in October 1946 with one clear intention: to encourage women to experience joy and beauty again after the strife of World War II. At the time, he was 41 years old and had gained extensive experience in dressmaking, having worked at the ateliers of Robert Piquet and Lucien Lelong. Yet establishing his own label wasn’t a lifelong ambition. In fact, as a child growing up in the popular French seaside town of Granville, Dior dreamed of becoming an architect. Perhaps this explains his fixation on shape, structure and form, which became an intrinsic part of his vision from the start.¶ The word “revelation” is frequently used in fashion today, but in the case of Dior’s couture debut on February 12, 1947, it’s appropriate. Titled “Corolle,” the collection comprised soft-shouldered dresses and jackets with waspy waists and rounded hips, in addition to full, shingrazing skirts. The proportions were so pointedly feminine for the period that editor Carmel Snow famously remarked that Dior had pioneered a completely “new look”— a phrase that came to define the line.¶ This elegant New Look instantly appealed to women whose wardrobes had been stifled by wartime rationing, and it wasn’t long before starlets such as Rita Hayworth and Margot Fonteyn came calling. In a matter of months, Dior had inadvertently put Paris at the epicenter of high fashion. Over the next decade, he continued to champion new silhouettes that celebrated the female form and embodied the spirit of the time. Hallmarks included the curvaceous oval dresses of Spring/Summer ’51, the understated yet glamorous H-line designs of Autumn/Winter ’54 and the playful A-line skirts that became the focal point of his Spring/Summer ’55 show.¶ Dior passed away unexpectedly just two years later at the pinnacle of his power. He left a short-lived but meteoric legacy that not only changed the face of fashion but also helped commercialize Parisian style worldwide. His maison and his inimitable sensibility continue to thrive today.*

→ Growing up in Granville, Normandy, Dior dreamed of studying at the École des Beaux-Arts in Paris, but his parents refused to send him.

1922–PRESENT

PIERRE CARDIN

What will the people of tomorrow want to wear? That was the question posed by Pierre Cardin in 1950, when he left his position as a tailor at Christian Dior to launch his namesake label. Though the Italian-born, Paris-based talent had enjoyed considerable training as a couturier, he frequently expressed his unease at working within such an elitist sphere. After opening an atelier of his own, he quickly established himself by turning out collarless menswear suits and jackets, which retained a casual, modern feel despite their couture-like construction.¶ Before long, he turned his attention to designing women’s ready-to-wear, which outraged haute couture’s ruling body, the Chambre Syndicale. In stark contrast to the hyperfeminine, finely tailored looks he helped hone at Dior, Cardin’s aesthetic was far more whimsical and revealed his interest in Googie architecture—radical, geometric buildings inspired by the space age. In 1954, for example, he presented the bubble dress, which sported a narrow waist and a skirt that resembled the namesake. His 1958 balloon-shaped skirt and stark, short tunics with satellite sleeves orbited his collections throughout the ’60s and further affirmed his status as fashion’s great futurist.¶ He also had the foresight to design unisex clothes—one small step for Cardin, one giant leap for fashion. His landmark “Cosmos” collection in 1964 consisted of vibrant tunics with coordinating tights and slick plastic visors. Additional breakthroughs included his 1969 experimental circular raincoats, which were cut from techno fabric, his maxi-coat and miniskirt combination and his 1971 offbeat felt envelope hats. Unlike many brands of the time, Cardin’s collections sold widely in department stores across the US, UK and Japan.¶ In the latter part of his career, Cardin pioneered the idea of brand licensing, lending his name to a multitude of products including furniture, sunglasses, perfume, mattresses and even frying pans. Today, in his late 90s, Cardin continues to seek out new opportunities that he believes will make his brand truly global.*

Cardin has been a fashion industry staple for over seven decades. As is often noted, his eponymous label has been for sale for a quarter of a century, with a standing price starting at $1 billion and no room for negotiation. The 95-year-old designer told The Business of Fashion, “If you don’t have the money, then don’t buy it —nobody’s forcing you to. I can afford to die without selling it.”

1883–1971

COCO CHANEL

The course of 20th-century fashion would have been entirely different if Gabrielle Bonheur “Coco” Chanel hadn’t intervened. Driven by the need to liberate women from the constraints of their whaleboned corsets and thigh-pinching garters, the French-born designer created an entirely new look, informed by men’s clothing (which she herself wore) and leisurewear. Her creations freed the body rather than dominated it, and consisted of long-line cardigans, fluid blouses and drop-waist dresses in soft, comfortable fabrications such as jersey—which she obtained the sole rights to produce in 1916.¶ Throughout the 1920s, Chanel introduced countless style staples including the little black dress, the cloche hat, the masculine blazer (for women) and costume jewelry: a dazzling, cost-effective solution to accessorizing. She also conceived her first perfume, Chanel No.5, a simple but sensual scent that spoke to the spirited women who appreciated her modern philosophy. Chanel’s golden era, however, proved to be the 1930s, thanks to the introduction of her black quilted leather 2.55 and Timeless CC bags, in addition to the Breton jumper, which was made to be worn with loosely tapered trousers. Since her death in 1971, Maison Chanel has been helmed by Karl Lagerfeld and continues to prosper.*

1934–PRESENT

MARY QUANT

Dame Mary Quant opened her first fashion boutique, Bazaar, above a restaurant run by her husband, Alexander Plunkett-Greene, on King’s Road in the heart of London’s Chelsea district. It was 1955, and Britain was on the cusp of a cultural revolution. As a self-taught designer, Quant threw caution to the wind and filled her shop with clothes that she was unable to find elsewhere. Unlike the structured pieces still favored by couturiers at the time, her designs were simple, youthful and strikingly modern—feeding off the mod style and beatnik-chic of the dancers, socialites and musicians who frequented the SW3 neighborhood.¶ Quant’s optimistic and accessible collections soared in popularity, and her aesthetic became as synonymous with the swinging sixties as The Beatles, Woodstock or Andy Warhol. Signature Mary Quant styles included abbreviated tunic dresses, wet-look PVC swing jackets, Baker Boy hats, wide-leg trousers with matching waistcoats, the skinny rib sweater—and, of course, the miniskirt. Capitalizing on the success of her clothing label, Quant also developed a highly successful cosmetics line before introducing swimwear, hosiery, jewelry and wallpaper collections during the early 1970s. Her empire continues to flourish in Japan.*

1927–2018

HUBERT DE GIVENCHY Hubert de Givenchy was a purveyor of subtle elegance. Born in Beauvais, France, the designer was fascinated with clothes throughout his childhood and spent hours sifting through his grandfather’s wardrobe. At 17, he enrolled in Paris’ prestigious École de Beaux-Arts and, while studying, began working for the house of Elsa Schiaparelli, eventually becoming the artistic director of its Place Vendôme boutique.¶ Givenchy opened his namesake atelier in 1952. His debut collection—with elegant blouses and shapely skirts—was influenced by his young muse, Bettina Graziani, and the architectural aesthetic of his idol, Cristóbal Balenciaga. In the years that followed, Givenchy continued to focus on achieving purity of line. He became closely associated with actress Audrey Hepburn, with whom he formed a close friendship after collaborating on both her personal ensembles and cinematic repertoire— including Sabrina, Funny Face and Breakfast at Tiffany’s.¶ Arguably Givenchy’s most revolutionary design is the sack dress. The billowing button-front piece rejected the strict silhouettes of the 1950s and proposed an easy but enigmatic new shape. During the ’60s, he also championed the thigh-high hemline, encouraging women to bare their legs for a day. Givenchy eventually sold his brand to luxury conglomerate LVMH in 1988, before retiring from fashion in 1995.*

→ Famously dressed in his white lab coat, the over-six-foot-tall designer was known for his height and elegance. Ennobled in 1713, his family traces its roots back to Venice.

← Givenchy frequently dedicated sketches to his muse Audrey Hepburn throughout their 40-year relationship. Drawings of his most famous designs and others never before seen were released in the 2014 book To Audrey with Love.

1932–1990

ROY HALSTON FROWICK

Roy Halston Frowick, best known as Halston, was the undisputed doyen of 1970s disco fashion. But before he became recognized for designing simple, barely-there dresses that looked best under the lights of a disco ball, he made hats. Halston had an affinity for millinery from the age of seven. By the time he moved from his native Iowa to New York in 1958, he was 26 and already a well-known milliner. His big break came when he crafted the pillbox hat that Jackie Kennedy wore to her husband’s presidential inauguration.¶ Keen to exploit his newfound press attention, Halston turned his hand to clothes and launched his ready-to-wear line in 1968, aiming to create pieces that women could “breathe in, work in, play in.” He spun supple, feel-good fabrics such as jersey, silk and synthetic suede into jumpsuits, asymmetric gowns and shirtdresses. At his height, Halston’s sultry garb became the uniform of ’70s tastemakers such as Anjelica Huston and Liza Minnelli, who, like the designer himself, were regulars at the infamous Studio 54.¶ For every high comes a low, and unfortunately for Halston, the ’80s were less kind. In a series of buyouts, the popular brand was snapped up by Revlon and was officially discontinued in 1990. Halston passed away from AIDS-related complications that same year.*

1935–2017

AZZEDINE ALAÏA

“For me, fashion is the body,” said Azzedine Alaïa in 1982. Indeed, the self-taught Tunisian designer, affectionately dubbed “the king of cling,” built his entire career on enhancing the female form. Rather than using stiff corseting, horsehair padding or restrictive tailoring, Alaïa’s designs consisted of only seams, supple leather and fine stretch jersey that kissed curves and highlighted a carnal, muscular physique. His clothes were erotic but never exploitative—as evidenced by his seasonal shows, where models strode down the runway like empowered warriors, as opposed to blank waifs.¶ Alaïa opened his eponymous maison in Paris in 1979, having been a best-kept secret among the crème de la crème of French society for many years already. His sophisticated, body-conscious brand skyrocketed during the 1980s and came to define the decade, championed by women such as Cindy Crawford, Madonna, Grace Jones and his close friend and muse, Naomi Campbell.¶ Though his aesthetic fell out of favor during the late ’90s, he remained true to his signature look and focused on crafting timeless pieces for private clients and pop culture icons from around the world. Alaïa continued to work at his own pace until his death in 2017.*

1969–2010

ALEXANDER MCQUEEN

Derrière-flashing “bumster” trousers; headpieces fashioned from antler horns; a plastic bodice filled with tapeworms—Alexander McQueen was a master of provocation, thrill and technical craft. Fueled by an obsession with beauty and the natural world, the London-born designer produced complex, emotionally intense collections that rallied against convention and were, above all else, outstandingly original.¶ The son of a taxi driver, McQueen left school at the age of 16 to pursue tailoring apprenticeships on London’s Savile Row. By the time he was 21, he had also worked for the theatrical costume company Angels & Berman and designer Romeo Gigli. Armed with skills in classical tailoring, ready-to-wear and costume, McQueen gained a place to study at London’s Central Saint Martins. His 10-piece graduate collection was bought in its entirety by stylist Isabella Blow, who instantly took McQueen under her wing and became one of his most valued confidantes.¶ For better or worse, McQueen’s eponymous brand pushed people’s buttons and whipped up a storm of media attention from the outset. The Autumn/Winter ’95 Highland Rape collection, for example, made a pointed statement about the ravaging of Scotland by England, and featured ripped tartan and torn tailoring to expose flesh. His Spring/Summer ’97 show, La Poupée, saw models shackled to angular silver frames while walking a water-soaked runway in homage to the surrealist artist Hans Bellmer.¶ In 1996, McQueen succeeded John Galliano to become the artistic director of Givenchy, while simultaneously showing collections under his own label. He parted ways with the French house in 2001, having felt stifled by its commercial constraints. From that moment on, his work became increasingly more elaborate and was staged accordingly. His final outing, Plato’s Atlantis, proved to be one of his most memorable. Streamed live to a global audience, it comprised wildly sculptural reptilian-print dresses, jackets and vertiginous platform shoes. McQueen was just 40 when he took his own life, but his uncompromising vision continues to set the standard for fashion today.*

Savage Beauty, the designer’s first retrospective, was a sellout at the Metropolitan Museum of Art when it ran in 2011, drawing over 660,000 visitors. Its London showing at the V&A in 2015 was a third larger, marking a homecoming of sorts for the provocateur, who was born and raised in the city. Alexander McQueen was published by V&A Publishing to commemorate the record-setting five-month run in his hometown.

← Although his name is synonymous with French fashion, Saint Laurent actually grew up in Algiers, the capital of Algeria, which was then a French colony. Often bullied for his sophisticated tastes, he moved to Paris at 17.

1936–2008

YVES SAINT LAURENT

Yves Saint Laurent shot to stardom in 1958 at the tender age of 21 with his debut collection for Christian Dior. Titled “Trapeze,” it offered a light and fluid silhouette, which flared from a fitted shoulder line, making the body seemingly disappear. It marked a significant aesthetic shift for the period and instantly distinguished the young Algerian-born designer from his late master, Dior.¶After serving compulsory military service during the war that France was then fighting in Algeria, Saint Laurent discovered that his role at Dior had been terminated. In a bid to forge his own path, he opened his haute couture house in partnership with his lover Pierre Bergé in 1962. From the outset, it was clear that Saint Laurent wanted to redefine the modern women’s wardrobe with his simple, elegant and informal clothes that moved with the times. For inspiration, he would plunder the archives of history, pop culture and art to create bold new fashion concepts, such as the sharp, color-block shift-dresses he crafted in tribute to the linear compositions of Dutch artist Piet Mondrian for Autumn/Winter ’65.¶ In 1966, Saint Laurent famously admitted that he had had enough of “dressing jaded billionaires” and introduced a more accessible ready-towear line, Yves Saint Laurent Rive Gauche, stating: “Saint Laurent’s women are from harems, castles and even the suburbs; they are from the streets, subways, dime stores and stock exchanges.” This was the first French luxury house to adopt a more democratic outlook, and it proved to be a winning formula. In the years that followed, Saint Laurent continued to mastermind a number of style milestones. He gave women the safari jacket, the trouser suit (Le Smoking), the sheer shirt, the peacoat and the jumpsuit—easy-chic pieces that freed women from gender-stereotyped dressing. In another unprecedented move, Saint Laurent posed nude for the advertising campaign of his 1971 fragrance, Pour Homme, becoming the first designer ever to do so.¶ Saint Laurent showed his last ready-to-wear collection in 1998, but he carried on creating the brand’s haute couture line until 2002. He died just four years later following a period of ill health.*

1895–1972

CRISTÓBAL BALENCIAGA

Cristóbal Balenciaga was the consummate couturier, lauded for the sculptural purity of his work. His ascent to high fashion began in his early teens, when he reputedly stopped a local aristocrat, the Marquesa de Casa Torres, in his hometown of Guetaria, Spain, one day to tell her how much he admired her Drecoll tailoring. In response, she gave him a length of expensive fabric and her outfit so he could copy it. Balenciaga recalled being petrified yet elated while crafting the pieces. The Marquesa went on to become his first patron and arranged his apprenticeship with a tailor in San Sebastián.¶ Balenciaga eventually opened ateliers in Madrid, Barcelona and San Sebastián, before being forced to close due to the Spanish Civil War. Refusing to abandon his elite clientele—which by this point included the Spanish royal family—he decided to open an atelier in Paris, where he quickly accrued a loyal following of society types and a deluge of praise from the French press. By the 1950s, he was authoring such pioneering looks as the balloon jacket—an elegant sphere that encased the upper body —the high-waisted baby doll dress, the draped cocoon coat and the masterful balloon skirt, which resembled a graceful pouf of taffeta. Throughout the next decade, Balenciaga continued to fine-tune these fluid and shapely silhouettes with adventurous new fabrics such as silk gazar and heavy cloth.¶ Yet for all his success, the man behind the illustrious brand remained a royal enigma. He famously shunned attention, granting just one interview throughout his entire career and refusing to appear in public view during his highly anticipated runway shows. He was also known for discouraging wealthy clients such as Barbara Hutton and Countess von Bismarck from purchasing entire seasonal collections, and instead would advise them on what he felt best suited their individual needs. Balenciaga might not have had the personal profile of Coco Chanel or Christian Dior, but his life’s work speaks for itself.*

→ Born to a middle-class family in a small fishing village, Balenciaga was over 40 years old when he set up his first shop in Paris. Notably, at the height of the postwar couture industry, the house of Balenciaga was the most profitable of all the couturiers, even though competitors like Dior were six times larger in terms of employees.

← After his father’s death, a young Balenciaga began sewing to help his seamstress mother and by the age of 12, had his own tailoring apprenticeship.

READING LIST

1. The 2017 book Loewe chronicles the brand’s 170-year history, including its 2013 rebranding led by creative director Jonathan Anderson. 2. Dutch photographer Ferry van der Nat’s Polaroids in Mr capture male beauty at its purest. 3. Pretty Much Everything offers a retrospective on the genre-bending careers of photography duo Inez and Vinoodh. 4. Dior By Avedon includes never-before-seen images from the iconic fashion photographer who captured the brand’s essence for nearly 30 years. 5. The Private World provides a detailed look into the eight homes shared by partners Pierre Bergé and Yves Saint Laurent. 6. Koto Bolofo’s photography in La Maison offers an inside look into the world of Hermès.

7. Polaroids is a collection of Robert Mapplethorpe’s instant photos, and reveals the photographer and provocateur’s early vision. 8. In Impossible Wardrobes, Tilda Swinton walks the runway, sporting the most notable clothing designed over the past two centuries. 9. Rick Owens: Furniture intimately explores the lives of the designer and his wife, muse and collaborator, Michele Lamy. 10. Thom Browne curated the 15th issue of A Magazine, collaborating with everyone from Baz Luhrmann to Martha Stewart 11. In Yohji Yamamoto, experience the working approach of one of the industry’s great explorers. 12. Undressed—by longtime Vogue contributor Mario Testino—examines the notion of disrobing in photography.

PUBLISHING

← Tonchi’s best career advice came from his mentor Alexandra Penney: Don’t be late, but don’t be too early.

STEFANO TONCHI W MAGAZINE T MAGAZINE ESQUIRE

Want to work for the editor in chief of W magazine, Stefano Tonchi? Then heed his advice: don’t agree with him. “I look for people with an opinion—I cannot stand people who agree,” he says. “Complicated people are the only people who are interesting,” he adds, laughing. “Usually if someone is easygoing, they’re probably also very mediocre. Have the courage of your convictions.” When Tonchi traded The New York Times style magazine T for W in 2010, he arrived armed with his own arsenal of ideas. “It was very focused on fashion and was really just about clothes,” he explains. Tonchi says he wanted the magazine to return to its roots: When it launched as the little sister of the fashion-industry trade journal Women’s Wear Daily in 1972, W was presented as a lifestyle title. “I wouldn’t say we were aiming for a general interest magazine necessarily, but we did want to present fashion in the larger context of culture,” he remembers. “What I brought to W was a more interesting connection with the worlds of cinema, pop culture and contemporary art, in a meaningful and relevant way —that’s what I added to this magazine that always had models on the cover.” He admits his own choices have often been controversial, like the decision to give Kim Kardashian her first cover in November 2010. The editor’s inaugural art issue featured a nude Kardashian and strategically placed words collaged by conceptual artist Barbara Kruger that stated: “It’s all about me, I mean you, I mean me.” “It was very meaningful because it was before the age of selfies,” Tonchi explains. “Discovery, diversity and disruption—these are the three main things that stand out when I think about my years here.” He continues, “Diversity because we opened up the magazine in a very inclusive way to minorities; discovery because we are very good at discovering people before anybody else—we’ve been very courageous that way—and disruption we try to do with issues like our transgender one. We’re not afraid, you know?”

Curiosity is an underappreciated quality.

In 2009, The New York Times launched its first country-specific edition of T magazine with T Qatar. Exploring topics like fashion, beauty and travel in a bilingual format (Arabic and English), the Middle East edition is currently the largest circulated and most widely read luxury lifestyle magazine in the country.

Being bold and taking risks are two traits bequeathed by his mentor, the late editor of Vogue Italia, Franca Sozzani. “Franca was really a big, big influence,” he says fondly. Another influential woman in his life is the artist, journalist and author Alexandra Penney, whom Tonchi worked alongside at Self magazine. “Alexandra has been a mentor to me for more than 20 years. Her advice was always to follow your instincts, be true to your inspirations and make the right compromises,” he recalls. He’s also indebted to S.I. Newhouse, who hired him at W. “Mr. Newhouse was an incredible mentor, a very important person in my life. He was incredibly generous and incredibly supportive,” he says. One of Tonchi’s favorite aspects of his job is collaborating with people from different backgrounds and disciplines.† “It’s always interesting to see how somebody

reacts out of their comfort zone,” he explains, noting that curiosity is one of the traits he admires most. “Curiosity is an underappreciated quality,” he explains. “Some people think it can be destructive, but I think it’s really the driving force—it’s what pushes you to wake up, get up and go out, to see more. That’s very important. That’s what I look for.” Tonchi says his own curiosity is piqued primarily by music and contemporary art. “Throughout the ’80s music was really my strongest inspiration, and I think that is still true today,” he says. “Music is how we channel ideas of style and fashion—think of Rihanna, or Madonna, or David Bowie. That’s how fashion and style gets communicated in a large way, so music is very important.” He adds that artists have inspired him, too. “I grew up surrounded by art—when you think about Florence, art really is everywhere. I know that sounds stupid, but it’s true,” he laughs. “But really, I discovered my love of contemporary art through my personal relationship with my husband,” he says of his partner, the art dealer David Maupin. “It became a common interest of ours and also a social interest; contemporary artists are a part of the social texture of society today.”‡ Perhaps it is surprising then to discover that Tonchi’s W office at One World Trade Center is not wallpapered with floor-to-ceiling art, until you realize that the rooms are flanked by wall-to-wall windows. “It’s a beautiful view,” he says. “I can see the Statue of Liberty and all the way to New Jersey and beyond, but because of the glass, we can’t have anything on the walls.” Instead, he plasters every other inch with what you might expect: books and magazines. “I don’t like bookshelves anyway,” he says. “I like to be surrounded by books and magazines at home, too, in piles, on the floor, hundreds and hundreds of them.” Tonchi says it’s a passion that started when he was young. The first publication he worked on was a high school project he started with two friends: Apache. “We were very inspired by British magazines like The Face and i-D and American publications like Interview magazine. Those were our reference points,” he remembers.

David Maupin is one half of the iconic New York gallery Lehmann Maupin, which has been influential in advancing the careers of artists like Juergen Teller and Liu Wei. The art dealer met Tonchi while studying in Florence and the couple has twin daughters, Isabella and Maura, both of whom speak Italian.

His entry into the fashion industry came later with a job at Pitti Immagine in Florence. “I worked for them in different capacities. I scouted for them, I did press and at one point, I was part of a branch called Pitti Trend, responsible for discovering people,” he recalls. During this time he also co-founded a fashion magazine called Westuff, serving as editor and art director on what would later become Emporio Armani magazine. “It was primarily modeled after Interview,” he says, laughing. Similar to its American counterpart, it was a large-format magazine with a lot of music content. “We never did fashion in a literal way; we weren’t trying to do Vogue,” he explains. From there, he moved to Milan in 1987 to pursue what he describes as “a more classical kind of career” at Condé Nast as editor and, later, fashion director of L’uomo Vogue.

Tonchi moved to New York in 1994 to take up the position of creative director at Self magazine for two years, then held the same title at J. Crew from 1996 to 1998. Next, he spent five years as the fashion creative director at Esquire, exiting for a role as style editor at The New York Times Magazine, where he would create and launch T in 2004. The publication was awarded Magazine of the Year by the Society of Publication Designers in 2008. “I went in a different direction, but I always kept up my relationship with Pitti Immagine,” he says, speaking of the numerous exhibitions and book collaborations over the years. So what makes an image stand out for a man who looks for the contrarians in life? “I think it’s one that goes a little bit beyond the beauty of the image,” he says. “It should open up conversation.” He adds, “Take the photography of, say, Juergen Teller. His pictures are admittedly not the most beautiful, but they make you think. I like images that have a narrative. They should offer you a starting point, not a closing point.” *

→ Tonchi rejects the notion of any sort of uniform in his own life. He explored the subject in Uniform: Order and Disorder, a book he co-edited and published in conjunction with an exhibit at MoMA PS1.

→ In 2016, for the first time since joining Vogue in 1988, Coddington was permitted to work on projects outside the iconic magazine.

GRACE CODDINGTON VOGUE

“Rules are made to be broken,” says Grace Coddington, the auspicious creative director at large of American Vogue. The risk taker has been challenging fashion norms since the 1960s; she was the model who inspired Vidal Sassoon’s iconic fivepoint haircut. In 1975, as the British Vogue fashion editor, she led the magazine’s first journey to the former USSR with a groundbreaking editorial that cast Jerry Hall as a statuesque lady in red, conquering soviet monuments and posing with the communist flag. The stunt was a gamble, and Coddington and her team were forced to smuggle the film out of the country or face the consequences. The provocateur left British Vogue in 1987, moving to New York at the behest of Calvin Klein, who hired her as his design director and would later describe her as the first European fashion editor to fully appreciate American design. Although she “adored Calvin” and “loved his clothes,” she struggled to find her footing at the company. “I don’t have a very good head for business, and I didn’t really know what my role was there,” she explains, “which is why when Anna Wintour got the job at American Vogue, I was the first person to call her and ask if I could come and work with her.” Appointed fashion director of the magazine in 1988 and creative director in 1995, Coddington quickly became as peerless a presence in fashion as her fellow British expat editor in chief. “I was for many years somewhat of a go-between for Anna and the other editors at Vogue,” she explains. “I brought their ideas to Anna and fought for them and their pictures.” This unique working dynamic was well documented in the 2009 box office hit The September Issue, a project that turned Coddington into a reluctant star. The director of the documentary, R. J. Cutler, had to work hard to convince a stubborn Coddington to appear on-screen, but after a year of trying to get her attention, he eventually got close enough to conclude, “She is charming, delightful, passionate and so committed to celebrating beauty and her revolutionary notion that clothes, models and photographers could tell stories and not just be objects.” He says, “Every billboard, every fashion magazine spread, every advertisement we see today has been influenced by Grace.” Such lavish praise is echoed by everyone who knows her, save the editor herself. Stereotypically British in her self-deprecation, she is quick to pay tribute to the numerous figures from her illustrious past who have guided her epic journey. “I’ve had lots of mentors, starting with my old editor at British Vogue, Beatrix Miller. She taught me so much—she was amazing,” Coddington remembers. “Then after that, Anna obviously. But there have also been photographers who have taught me a lot— one was Norman Parkinson and the other was Bruce Weber; they both played a large part in my life.” While she doesn’t necessarily have muses, she says, there are a few models that she loves working with. “I’ve got a thing for redheads, I’m afraid,” laughs

Coddington, who names Karen Elson and Natalie Westling as two of her favorites. “Of course, I adore Natalia [Vodianova], too. I figured out she was in three-quarters of the pictures I did for a book, not just because of how she looks but because she’s also amazing to work with,” she says. Coddington believes that surrounding herself with inspiring people is important. “I can’t do anything on my own; it has to be collaborative,” she explains. People who aren’t willing to cooperate on a project are deemed “a real pain in the arse” because if it’s not working for them, “it’s not working for me,” she says. Coddington’s approach on set is to treat everyone the same. “From one’s assistant, to the hairdresser, to the photographer”—their input is equally important, she says. “I learn so much from the younger generation,” she adds. “Surrounding yourself with young people keeps one motivated.” Inspired by the everyday, Coddington says that all of her ideas are “a heightened version of reality,” and while she cites the cinema as one of her most enduring inspirations—in particular “the old English movies from the 1960s and the French ones from the 1950s”—she is equally entranced by the diverse characters crammed into the New York City subway. “I love the subway, particularly these days when everybody’s not so rich, which means everyone’s on it,” she laughs. Although she is never short of bright ideas, Coddington does admit that finding new and interesting ways to tell a fashion story can be a challenge—but one that also keeps her going. “A creative image should stand out and should last regardless of the season,” she says. “What makes it special is different every time.” *

I’ve got a thing for redheads, I’m afraid. A noted cat lover, Coddington and her partner Didier Malige published Catwalk Cats in 2006. The book features Coddington’s illustrations and Malige’s photographs, chronicling the partners’ work and home lives through the eyes of their feline companions.

← Durand says he never visits the destination featured in the magazine before he starts an issue. “I like to sublimate the idea of a place,” he told Mr. Porter.

FRANCK DURAND ATELIER FRANCK DURAND HOLIDAY

Franck Durand, the founder and creative director of his namesake Parisian design studio, radiates a mix of boyishness and poise. He looks unassuming in a light blue turtleneck, slim white jeans frayed at the ankles and argyle socks. His brown boots are the same style he’s been wearing since age 13—ditto his watch and perfume. He doesn’t change what works. Although he pauses often when speaking, he doesn’t lack any certainty in his stance regarding classic style, beautiful craftsmanship and metropolitan progress. His namesake atelier is located on rue Chabanais, a quiet side street in Paris’ second arrondissement. His office features a marble-topped round table and a curated pile of books on a vintage chair (Viviane Sassen’s Pikin Slee, Henri Matisse’s Cutouts). A vintage Holiday magazine cover (dedicated to Texas, featuring a cowboy) is propped against the wall. There’s expansive white shelving, only partially filled with rows of slender red binders. His desk is a tidy arrangement of pens, a vase, glass paperweights and assorted skincare products. Everything is crisp and elegant, the surfaces nearly bare. Durand grew up in a bourgeois family and went to a religious boarding school in Touraine. His first thrilling sense of the outside world was when a friend returned from London with the magazines The Face and i-D. “There were incredible and very different things happening elsewhere,” he remembers thinking at the time. He wanted to participate.

→ Durand’s Paris studio shares its home in the second arrondissement with a burgeoning assortment of eateries and parks sloping down to the Musée du Louvre. In 2016, Durand opened Holiday Café in the well-appointed 16th. The coffee spot is a collaboration with the designer, architect and fellow Parisian Franklin Azzi.

At the age of 20, he began working for influential French art director Marc Ascoli. “There were a thousand paths that appealed to me; everything was potentially beautiful,” he says. He wanted to try his hand at ceramics, work in forests, ameliorate the environment by “putting trees where there were none.” He spent the latter half of his 20s working for a landscaper. “I was digging holes all day,” he laughs, “but I liked

it.” When he became a father, he decided to set up his own design practice. The endeavor has, since its beginning in 2004, been underpinned by one main goal: “I want to put a form of beauty in everything,” he says. This approach to beauty—le beau—is something he has applied to many fashion campaigns, from Armani to Balmain, Chloé to Isabel Marant. “I am obsessed with what is not trendy,” Durand declares. “I like the patina of things, the wear, transgenerational existence. Luxury is not profusion, or the accumulation of expensive things. It is a question of quality.” Casual timelessness is not always in line with more ostentatious contemporary tastes, and he admits that “for a person who wants to be super fashion, super flashy, there will be no resonance in what we do.” Instead, he expounds: “I’m not nostalgic at all, but I enjoy a classic; it’s a form of sex appeal that I like.” Durand has worked with the likes of Hermès, Chanel and Armani to bring his brand of timeless elegance to big-name fashion houses. His own relaxed yet sophisticated style reflects a sensitivity to quality as well as personal identity.

PRINCE CHARLES While shaping the Holiday Paris fashion line, Durand stumbled across a somewhat unexpected sartorial icon: Prince Charles. Durand aims to create products—from jackets to sneakers and totes—of impeccable quality that stand the test of time; as he told Vogue, it’s “the idea that you have a pair of shoes from forever and you’re still wearing them; I remember reading that Prince Charles has been wearing a pair of shoes he’s had since something like 1962.” In another anecdote, he revealed that an image of the young prince made a chance appearance in both a vintage edition of Holiday and one of Durand’s first relaunch issues. “Someone opened one of the old copies in the office the other day, an issue from 1953, and there was a Beaton picture of Prince Charles when he was five years old. We actually used the same image, unknowingly, in our Scottish issue, from 2014. I’d been upset that when we’d used it, we didn’t know whom to credit for the picture, and it turned out to be Beaton!”

This even-keeled take defies the whiplash of designer turnover. “There is the maison, and there is fashion,” he says. “Fashion is fragile. It is important that the maison remains very solid, hard to shake.” The latter provides the cornerstone for Durand’s commercial vision. While Durand has been entrusted with envisaging the look of many labels, he has also been overseeing his own project. He revived Holiday magazine—with his accent, he pronounces it “oh-lee-deh”—a periodical originally published in America between 1946 and 1977 and presided over by a hedonistic masthead. It featured work by the greats: visuals by Henri Cartier-Bresson and Cecil Beaton, bylines by Ernest Hemingway and Colette. Durand’s Frenchified update is a more self-consciously studied biannual travelogue; it is wholly lifestyle focused and abstains from politics and topical news. Jamie Hawkesworth and Inez and Vinoodh are among the contemporary contributors, and each issue spotlights a single destination (California, Denmark, South Korea, Scotland, Argentina). While the magazine sweeps the world, it has spawned a wave of extremely Parisian projects in the westerly 16th arrondissement. It’s where Durand lives with his wife, Emmanuelle Alt (the editor in chief of Vogue Paris), and their two children. This neighborhood, dubbed Village Boileau, is “very specific and charming”—it has houses with gardens —yet Durand notes that “it almost feels abandoned.” The area has no obvious draw. “It’s a no-man’s-land, it’s the Wild West. But I like this place because it just looks like nothing else in Paris. Nothing was ‘done’ to it, nothing has budged.” Durand decided to opened a café in this “arid” sector of the metropolis in 2016. “The people who live here did not have the quality of life that went with these villas,” he notes. He was strongly advised against setting up a business here by many, including his accounting team. But Durand’s conviction won out. Holiday Café is housed in a building from the 1940s; it has a stark white exterior and small terrasse. The menu changes daily and serves traditional French fare. (As Irwin Shaw once said,

“Everything in Paris starts at a café table.”) “I always thought that Holiday could be more than a magazine; it could be a house, a lifestyle,” he muses. “Whatever we do in print would simply become an extension of that. I wanted to do a café because it would be a physical, three-dimensional experience.” He notes how anything from an image to a video to a magazine is a statement on life. “For me a magazine is a reality; there is a kind of tribe that goes with it,” he says. “And that’s why it’s good to make it exist in real life. It is the Holiday panoply.” Durand relaunched Holiday magazine with the Spring/Summer 2014 issue, which included a look into Inez & Vinoodh’s New York loft and a special on Ibiza. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Durand cites his inaugural issue as a favorite.

I’m not nostalgic at all, but I enjoy a classic; it’s a form of sex appeal that I like. That’s also the case with the launch of a Holiday clothing line that Durand has developed. There are collegiate sweatshirts with “Holiday” written across the chest, tweed blazers and Shetland pullovers. Durand believes in “being really well dressed, but with no affect.” He feels “inspired by older people, especially those living in the 16th arrondissement—how they mix something in a floral pattern with a Monoprix bag.” Not surprisingly, Durand continues to expand the Holiday universe. An exhibition– boutique space, housed in a building from the 1960s, joins the magazine, café and clothing label. Like the café, the space was “almost a rehabilitation project,” he says: whatever was not original was removed, so attractive structural elements, like the vitrine and facade, could be highlighted. (Durand deems the approach a “theater of decor.”) “The venues are like the magazine, in a way. We wanted to preserve the essence of what once was,” he says. It’s also a mission he will broaden throughout the neighborhood by honoring the architecture and decor of several nearby shops. He aims to “create an ecosystem,” spanning a boulangerie, an épicerie, a hotel and an association of commerçants du quartier. “These are propositions we can make, which are convictions. It’s not an aesthetic,” he insists. “It’s more of an attitude.” Durand wishes he could do this “for a thousand other things,” including urbanism; he even dreams about advising Paris city hall. Durand’s project is not about citywide expansion, however, but about making the local better, the day-to-day more luxurious. “I want to shine a light on a neighborhood of forgotten Paris,” he says.*

→ Ditting works with fashion brands, artists and art institutions and says an early collaboration with Dutch artist Barbara Visser on The Complete Incomplete Series was a seminal project.

VERONICA DITTING

STUDIO VERONICA DITTING THE GENTLEWOMAN

→ “It’s stimulating to not only think about the outcome of a printed piece but to apply the same approach to other media,” Ditting reflects. She cites projects like a blanket for Paul Smith and a T-shirt for Sunspel, both in collaboration with The Gentlewoman, as enjoyable departures from her print-based work.

← In 2015, Ditting developed a visual identity for accessories brand Pramma. She designed everything from their website down to their packaging and stationery

Argentinean-born, German-raised Veronica Ditting begins every morning in her London office by making a mate, a tea-like drink native to South America. “A lot of people find the metal cup and straw it comes with slightly suspicious looking,” she laughs. Ditting is perhaps most well known for her role as art director of The Gentlewoman, but her work extends far beyond the biannual women’s magazine. In 2006, she founded her creative direction and design studio; her client list ranges from Hermès to Amsterdam’s Stedelijk Museum. “There’s not much difference in how we approach editorial and corporate work,” she explains. “Every project starts with a similar set of questions—how do we achieve the content we want? And what does the content need in each given scenario?” Regardless of the client, she says, the two things she always hopes to achieve are authenticity and clarity. Perhaps, then, it makes sense that Ditting pays little attention to design trends. “Of course it’s impossible to completely avoid what’s going on, but as much as possible, I try not to look at the most obvious resources.”

There’s not much difference in how we approach editorial and corporate work. Growing up, Ditting had limited access to much outside of the “usual consumer magazines—think German ELLE, Vogue and so on,” she says. “I did spend pocket money on some of them once in a while, but I’m afraid to say they weren’t formative.” Instead, she turned to flea markets in search of vintage magazines, pictures and books. “My grandmother had a single copy of Die Neue Linie,” she remembers. She studied the Bauhaus-era lifestyle magazine “obsessively,” and it served as a major reference when designing The Gentlewoman. She still has a number of these early inspirations, and she continues to collect. Over the years, she has compiled what she calls “inspiration boxes” filled with “anything from a tear sheet of a magazine or book, a funny napkin, a piece of fabric, a sample print or even maps and old aircraft safety cards,” she explains. “They’re not categorized at all. I actually like the fact that they’re super messy and tactile. My work has quite a strict sense to it, but I use references in a much looser way.” Outside of editorial design, Ditting appreciates “anything from architecture to furniture design, art and pottery.” She studied industrial design before moving on to graphic design. and attributes her success to a wide range of interests and experiences. More important, however, are the people she surrounds herself with. “Without a good team or trust,” she says, “it’s impossible to achieve an exceptional outcome.” *

← Born in South America and raised in the Far East before his cigarette salesman father settled in England, Hack was named after the California psychedelic rock outfit Jefferson Airplane.

JEFFERSON HACK DAZED MEDIA NOWNESS

“When we started Dazed & Confused, we wanted a purpose, not a magazine,” says Jefferson Hack. In fact, the inaugural issue of Dazed, which Hack founded with photographer Rankin, stated “This is not a magazine” on its cover, laying out its provocative intentions from the outset. “There were no rules. We didn’t want to be prescriptive about the new generation that was coming through, which we were part of,” Hack explains. “It was about admitting to not being perfect, about saying: ‘I’m dazed and confused, and I don’t give a fuck that I haven’t got everything worked out.’” He says that was exactly what you could expect from other magazines—“that if you didn’t have your shit together, you couldn’t be part of their exclusive club,” he says. Interview, National Geographic and Colors are among his list of key inspirations, and in the case of Colors, its editor and noted graphic designer Tibor Kalman also became a mentor. “He gave me confidence,” Hack remembers. “He was political and socially conscious and he was a magazine person—it felt really good to get validation from someone who was involved in putting together stories for print.” Hack also describes the English impresario Malcolm McLaren as his “first manager,” encouraging him to work the system and fund early issues with a record deal. “I signed with a label, and didn’t deliver any music,” he explains of the unfulfilled Dazed label. “We spent the money on the next issue instead, and then got dropped, but we didn’t have to pay it back.” Hack cites Björk as another major inspiration, and the archetypal Dazed icon. “Björk is the ultimate collaborator,” he says. “I’ve learned from her that ‘we’ is stronger than ‘I,’ and that in that dynamic you can maintain a really strong sense of who you are.” While stepping away from daily operations of Dazed & Confused—although he is still Dazed Media’s editorial director—Hack says letting go has been really important. “I set the goals, and make sure that people who fit the Dazed vision are being hired,” he says, “but it’s those people driving the stories. It has to be young, it has to be close to the edge, and it has to be authentic.” Hack considers the seemingly endless argument of print versus digital almost irrelevant. “For me, it’s about people. It’s people who make the media, who are telling stories. The medium influences the story, but we know that.” He elaborates, “In the early days of digital, publishers cared more about aggregation—the massindustrialization of storytelling—and here, we’re focused on the stories.”

Blockchain

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transactions

across

multiple

computers

so

records can’t be altered retroactively. In 2018, the startup Po.et announced plans to put publishing permissions on Blockchain and build an entirely new marketplace. Like Hack, the company has a vision to transform publishing so authors and creatives can monetize their content in the future.

More telling, Hack says he banned the word “content” altogether. “We’re interested in the architecture of digital, understanding the system in order to hack it and produce better alternatives,” he says. “It doesn’t matter what form it takes— video, social, a cover feature—we are interested in stories that will inspire our audience.” “Magazines can’t be about people sitting at desks in offices,” he says, reflecting on the practical realities of publishing. “Some of that is important due to the reality of production, but creative people need to be in creative spaces, and out in the world with their eyes open.” For Hack, the future of publishing is “very much about space, opening it up for broadcasting, experimenting and creating things that can’t be predicted.” As such, he thinks the future of the industry might even include artificial intelligence (AI) and Blockchain.† “AI not because it will take people’s jobs, but because of how it will augment and enhance their roles,” he explains, “and Blockchain may provide the solution for more efficiency and accountability around the monetization of stories.” But at the end of the day, Hack says the future of Dazed Media and beyond is about keeping it real. “The more you grow, you stop keeping it real,” he says, “and I think one of the things that has kept us innovative, exciting and agenda-setting is that we’ve stayed independent.” The industry may be dazed with so many uncertainties, but Hack certainly isn’t confused. “We’ve stayed honest, we haven’t been sucked up by corporate agenda and we’ve still got the ‘This is not a magazine’ attitude that we had when we started.” *

Magazines can’t be about people sitting at desks. It has to be young, it has to be close to the edge, and it has to be authentic.

→ “Fashion is a $2.4 trillion industry,” Amed told GQ in 2017. “What $2.4 trillion industry would be happy with sycophantic fluffy reportage?”

IMRAN AMED THE BUSINESS OF FASHION

The Business of Fashion founder and editor in chief Imran Amed is an early riser. This tendency to wake up before dawn can be traced back to his childhood. “When I was growing up, I had a really insatiable appetite for reading and learning,” he explains. If he had a test the following day, Amed (a self-described “big old nerd”) would set his alarm for 4 a.m. to study. “No one forced me to do that,” he clarifies. “I always had this thing driven into me from a very young age about excellence and just doing the best that I could.” Now, instead of waking up for the sake of learning, the young entrepreneur starts each day with a moment to himself; he meditates. “I’m never the best version of myself when I don’t have that time in the morning to reflect,” he admits. Meditation, he says, has a long tradition on the Indian subcontinent that his family hails from, and his grandfather also used to meditate daily. “What I learned from my meditation, which is based in Buddhist philosophy, is that you should maintain equanimity, regardless of what’s going on,” he reveals. “If bad stuff happens, don’t react to it or reject it; just accept it for what it is, and it will pass.” He applies the same lesson to successes: “Celebrate them, but don’t let them define you,” he advises. Meditation also played a significant role in the creation of his multiplatform c ompany The Bus iness of Fashi on ( as such, it has also become a da i ly practi ce f or a group of his employees). Amed hasn’t always been an industry insider—he studied management consulting and went on to work for the firm McKinsey & Company, until at 29, he realized that he missed the “mix of left-and right-brain work” that he thrives on. He left for a 10-day Vipassana meditation retreat in South Africa (“You couldn’t read, write, speak or make eye contact with anyone”), a break that proved life altering.

→ While attending university in Montreal, Amed worked at the Gap on weekends, an experience that he says gave him insight into retail and consumer behavior.

It took that pivotal moment, that time to pause and reflect, to really get to know what I wanted. “It took that pivotal moment, that time to pause and reflect, to really get to know what I wanted,” he says. The London-based Canadian explored creative industries from film to music but ultimately landed on fashion. A friend of his, who at the time worked for the British Fashion Council, snuck him into shows and he “just felt really drawn to it.” The inclination wasn’t altogether new. As a child, Amed watched the Canadian television show Fashion File “religiously.” As a 10-year-old, he was enraptured by the international stories shared by the show’s host, Tim Blanks (now The Business of Fashion's editor-at-large). “It made me see that fashion was more than clothes, more than fashion shows,” Amed recalls. “There were all of these interesting people who made this world tick.” It is those people who continue to drive Amed today. “When you’re in the position as a journalist or writer, you get to sit down and interview incredible people and ask them basically whatever you want,” he says. “Every day, I get to meet people like that and learn from them. Maybe it’s not even learning a concrete skill; it’s learning what drives them, how they live their lives, where they get their ideas or how they built their businesses.” Though it’s been over a decade since he started the company, Amed’s love for his job remains palpable. “With no background in fashion or media or technology, I’m now running a fashion, media and technology business. Every day over the past 10 years or so has been a very steep and very exciting learning curve for me,” he explains. After running through the various skills he’s acquired and experts he’s been able to work alongside, he adds, “All of this is new to me, and I love that. There are so many different facets

to what I do, so it’s never boring.” Today, Amed has a long list of accomplishments— he has been named to Fast Company’s annual list of the Most Creative People in Business, received CFDA’s Media Award in honor of Eugenia Sheppard and was appointed Member of the Order of the British Empire for his service to the fashion industry, to name a few. Yet Amed is humble and very aware of his role. “My job is being the leader and helping to provide direction, inspiration and guidance for a growing group of people,” he says. “That takes energy, and you have to find the energy from within yourself to do that every day. I’m really grateful for this opportunity that I have, and I want to make the best of it.” *

← Borsche says he never pitches blindly for a project, insisting people should be 100 percent aware of who they want to work with.

MIRKO BORSCHE BUREAU MIRKO BORSCHE

In the world of graphic design, many who’ve reached a level of Mirko Borsche’s success choose to characterize their tastes, and indeed their work, as either implicitly superior and sophisticated or irreverently, brazenly kitsch—design guru versus design anarchist. Mirko Borsche, a German designer whose clients include Rimowa, Givenchy, Balenciaga and Audi, is perhaps then not who you would expect to have selfproclaimed “borderline” taste. It also tends to surprise when he describes his work as “normal,” while helping once- dusty institutions, such as the Bavarian State Opera, refresh their public image in order to attract new, younger audiences. It was Borsche’s wife who told him he was “always very, very close to bad taste,” but he says, “it’s always balanced a bit to the right side of good taste.” His work is refined enough to create a sense of trust amongst design aficionados, with just the right dash of the idiosyncratic and offbeat to make it feel forward thinking. The result is both timeless and very current. Maybe that is normal after all. Borsche agrees it’s a good place to be, but not an easy one. “I feel like that guy, walking between two skyscrapers on a rope,” he says, referring to high-wire artist Philippe Petit, who famously and playfully teetered his way between New York City’s World Trade Center towers in 1974. It’s no surprise that the designer approaches daunting tasks with just as much lighthearted pleasure.

→ Speaking to magCulture Journal, Borsche says the one mistake he made with a weekly periodical was attempting different typefaces every issue. Creating 52 readable options was way too ambitious.

← For the Bavarian State Opera, Borsche used Scotch Modern, a revival of a typeface first published in 1873 and refined by Nick Shinn in 2008.

Some of Borsche’s most notable work is his editorial design for ZEITmagazin, a supplement to the weekly Hamburg-based newspaper Die Zeit. It was also one of his biggest challenges: the marathon project was no one-off for his studio, Bureau Mirko Borsche, but a test of creative endurance. That it has remained a benchmark, week after week, since editor Giovanni di Lorenzo first handed him the project in 2007 is no small feat. Borsche acknowledges the challenge, but one gets the impression that, way up there in the heights of his industry, he still finds joy in it. “I love sitting on a plane, seeing someone with a magazine I know I’ve designed,” he says. It’s not an unfamiliar sentiment for someone who entered design through graffiti. Borsche remembers the thrill of being a passive observer to his audience. He first picked up spray paint in the late 1980s, tackling some Deutsche Bahn trains in his hometown of Munich, a subversive pastime he eventually converted into a graphic design education at the University of Kingston in London. Since 2007, after stints in advertising and an ill-fated attempt to move in-house as art director for a former client, he started his own studio. Borsche continues to treat it much like a team of graffiti artists: It has to be collaborative, each member working on his or her part with a unified vision (Borsche’s) in mind. Perhaps as a result, he mostly hires staff after they’ve completed an internship at the studio; it takes more than a portfolio to prove that you’re a good fit. After all, the team is intimate. At the start, for example, Borsche’s home doubled as the office, and the staff spent its days all sitting together around one big, rectangular table in the kitchen.

I feel like that guy, walking between two skyscrapers on a rope. Collaboration doesn’t stop at the front door, either: it reaches into the clients’ boardrooms. “Sometimes they love it, sometimes they’re unsure, but most of the time they hate it,” he says of the big reveal, a creative agency go-to that Borsche avoids. Instead of keeping final designs a surprise, Borsche makes sure that clients are involved from day one. The approach allows them to be an intimate part of the process, he says. Borsche often forthrightly explains or shows clients what he hopes to do in the first meeting. “We are not surprising our clients,” he explains. “We’re surprising their clients.” And surprise they do. The studio’s work for the Bavarian State Opera has been one of its biggest success stories. They’ve produced posters, seasonal guides, program books and flags t hat have bucked tr adit i on— pair ing a 19t h-cent ury t ypef ace wi t h di stinctly unstuffy imagery, such as cartoonish illustrations by Craig & Karl or Stefan Glerum. Borsche’s inspiration was the work of German-born graphic design legend Pierre Mendell, who had been the in-house designer for Die Neue Sammlung, Munich’s international museum for applied art, since 1980. Mendell’s style was defiantly pared back, colorful and modern. Borsche applied this thinking and used it to recontextualize a 350-year-old institution.

↑ In addition to ZEITmagazin, Borsche’s studio is responsible for the art direction of Spike, a contemporary art magazine founded by Rita Vitorelli.

One of Borsche’s favorite books is Nick Waplington’s 1991 Living Room, a compilation of documentary photos taken over years at Broxtowe Estate in Nottingham, UK.

Today, the posters are collected by fans, and the program books (with no branding on their covers) sit on bookshelves, not in wastebaskets. Borsche has managed to give the Opera not only a fresh edge but also gravitas: It lives on in print now, in people’s homes. For Borsche, it’s all in the story. Infusing design with a rich meaning not only justifies an agency’s work but also gives tools to its client to defend it. It may look timeless, but if nobody understands its origin or purpose, he says, few are going to defend it, and the mark won’t last. Bureau Mirko Borsche never takes too heavy a hand. Though not exactly minimalist, Borsche never wants his design to overpower. Projects, like a new word mark for Rimowa, are less elaborate, consisting of a very simple bespoke typeface. “My mom asked me why it took three months,” the designer says. “She exclaimed, ‘I could do that in an hour!’” He often looks to architecture, where ornamentation must cede to function—present, visible, at times playful, but in service to purpose. Borsche’s home is filled with hundreds of books on architecture, photography† and

art, but he rarely looks to graphic design; when he does, it’s with an attempt to access a particular thought process. One exception is an assortment of old leather-bound books. “I like the fonts, or to see how the text was treated,” he says. A well-appointed bookshelf is important, he continues, and always has been—it’s the first thing he notices in a stranger’s home, and he doesn’t think he’s alone in such observation. Just as crucial for Borsche is Munich’s picturesque Bavarian setting. He hikes in the surrounding mountains as a way to reset, shedding the claustrophobia of city life (and lots of air travel). As an added bonus: “You don’t see one cool person there,” he says.*

→ It is often assumed that Borsche is based in Berlin, but the designer is proudly located in Munich. He enjoys his hometown’s proximity to nature and in the summer often takes lunch breaks at the Isar River.

→ “Punk rock,” says Abu- Nimah, “changed my life.” Alongside Dieter Rams, Noam Chomsky and Irving Penn, she cites The Sex Pistols as a major influence.

RUBA ABU-NIMAH

REVLON ELLE SHISEIDO BOBBI BROWN COSMETICS

Ruba Abu-Nimah’s influence is visible well beyond the realm of publishing. In the world of makeup, she has served as the creative director for Bobbi Brown and Shiseido and worked with the likes of Pat McGrath, Smashbox Cosmetics and now Revlon (she calls the latter an “interesting challenge” having “never worked on a mass brand before”). An influential force in branding,she has collaborated with fashion houses from Calvin Klein to Marc Jacobs, Phillip Lim to Tiffany and Co. Nike also tapped her, in 2017, to develop five shoe designs (one she based on the US Postal Service’s 1984 “LOVE” stamp and another was inspired by Bauhaus minimalism). Despite all of her accomplishments, “If I had the choice,” she says, “I would only ever design books, like one of my heroes, Irma Boom.” After graduating from Parsons School of Design in the late ’80s, Abu-Nimah launched her career with a stint at ELLE in Paris. Nearly three decades later, in May 2017, she returned to the women’s magazine, this time in New York and as its creative director. The appointment made waves—she was the first woman to be given the title—but was short lived. Early the following year, she quietly exited in the midst of a major leadership change (editor Robbie Myers left and was succeeded by Nina Garcia, Project Runway judge and former creative director of Marie Claire). Yet Abu-Nimah seems, for the most part, unfazed. “Every project I have ever taken on has been a learning experience,” she explains. Changes are inevitable, but her routine stays the same: She starts her day

with a single cup of coffee, reads the news and checks up on her social media accounts. “The rest of the day is a toss-up,” she says. “You never know where it will go.” Her process varies, as she works across a range of industries, but one thing is consistent: She always asks a lot of questions.

You know what they say: small TV, large book collection. It is that same curiosity that draws her to books. “They are beautiful objects, but they are also learning tools,” she says. Standing in front of her seemingly endless bookshelves, she adds, “You know what they say: small TV, large book collection!” She primarily buys art and photography books, and struggles to name a favorite before landing on Danny Lyon’s The Destruction of Lower Manhattan, which she describes as “so personal, and so beautiful.” The only thing that trumps her passion for books is the outside world. “Travel,” she reflects, “is the best education.” Born in the Middle East, Abu-Nimah has lived everywhere from Tokyo to Brussels and London. Exceedingly grateful for those opportunities, she continues, “Everywhere I have ever lived or visited has somehow influenced my work. The more you see, the better your ideas.” * THE LOVE STAMP In 2017, Abu-Nimah developed a version of the Air Force 1 sneaker for Nike based on the 1984 LOVE stamp design by J. Bradbury Thompson. The United States Post Office issued its first LOVE stamp in 1973. The initial stamp, designed by pop artist Robert Indiana, was met with widespread acclaim, with more than 300 million printed that year. Initially created for the Museum of Modern Art’s Christmas card in 1965, the famous iconography was adapted from a series of poems originally written in 1958 by stacking LO and VE into its recognizable shape. The second U.S. LOVE stamp was issued in 1982 and a new design was released annually starting in 1984. Ironically, Nike’s original Air Force 1 was produced in 1982 and was initially discontinued in 1984.

← Persson was recently named creative director of L’Uomo Vogue and helped to relaunch the menswear title in June of 2018.

THOMAS PERSSON L’UOMO VOGUE LUNCHEON ACNE PAPER

Raised by his grandparents and mother in Oslo, Thomas Persson had a happy childhood at home but less so in the real world; he was, as a result, an impatient child, eager to get on with things and prove he could make something of himself. Few could deny he has: He was creator and editor in chief of Acne Paper for its entire 15-issue run; was art director of global advertising campaigns for Armani; handled art direction for projects by Hermès, Louis Vuitton, Chanel, Svenskt Tenn and Rizzoli; and, in 2016, launched Luncheon magazine with friend and Acne Paper contributor Frances von Hofmannsthal. Persson does not have the attitude often associated with such a profile—nor is he someone who seems to have anything to prove. He has a stunningly relaxed charm; his disposition is wise and contemplative, and his ever-present smile is shy and sweet. He is new-gen bohemian: he throws a good dinner party and spends summer holidays on the Mediterranean at the Cap d’Ail, where his family has had a home since 1920, or on Patmos in Greece. He is part workhorse, part bon vivant, not too dissimilar from those figures honored as part of Luncheon’s editorial line—the Lee Millers, Somerset Maughams and Frank O’Haras of the world.

→ Persson’s tips for a good party: “Generosity. Don’t put a limit on anything. Keep everything flowing— lots of food, lots of drink, great music and maybe a surprise, something unexpected.”

Lunch is an occasion. It’s about the conversation, not just the food. Persson’s work shares a similar lineage, combining rigor and intellect with a certain ease that comes with ingrained good taste. Nothing is overworked, even if quite con-ceptual. Today, Persson is putting together a fashion story inspired by a French children’s book of Japanese fairy tales—Contes Japonais, published in 1960 by Fabbri Milan—that belonged to his grandmother. It will no doubt be magical. The designer dives into his references but doesn’t dwell on them. “I would say I have a historical interest, rather than nostalgia,” he says. “I think nostalgia means having a longing for the past, which I don’t. But I think so much extraordinary work has been done over the centuries that I always feel kind of a responsibility to look at that before I do anything.” A respect for the past can be seen even within Persson’s own career choices —L uncheon owes a lot to Persson’s time at Acne Paper. Both publications flawlessly mix old and new in a way that few, if any, other magazines do with such grace. And they share the same large, weighty format. Acne Paper became the benchmark for brand publications from the moment it was first published in 2005. Its title aside, it was boldly Delphic about its origins, not mentioning Acne clothing at all. Instead, it communicated the company’s brand values through powerful images and fine journalism that mixed highbrow with counterculture, Fran Lebowitz with Leigh Bowery. Its design harkened a return to beauty and timelessness, at a moment when many were opting for edginess.

Commercially, the return for Acne was similar, Persson has said, to what Prada or Cartier gained from their arts foundations—Acne wasn’t just selling culture; it was also a patron of it. Before being tapped to create the magazine by the brand’s founder, Jonny Johansson, Persson was working in his hometown writing for Norwegian ELLE and a gay newspaper called BLIKK (now a magazine) and then as fashion editor of a glossy magazine for young women, IN-SIDE. But Acne found him not in Oslo, but in London, where he’d been at Central Saint Martins, pursuing a master’s degree in fashion journalism—a profession that he would, in some respects, help redefine. Near the end of his time at Acne Paper, which ceased publishing in 2014, Persson began working with Armani, an experience he credits with honing his aesthetic. Beginning in 2013, he was tasked with the art direction of the brand’s international campaigns, working often with his compatriot, the photographer Sølve Sundsbø, and Swiss stylist Beat Bolliger. “You have to try to create one image that really stops traffic,” Persson says, on the difference between Armani and his editorial work. “It’s more condensed. To work with someone like [Armani], he’s an intellect. I’ve learned a lot. He really opened my eye to what an artistic image can be.”

→ Persson’s interest in fashion dates back to his childhood. He frequently could be found cutting up fashion magazines or sifting through his grandmother’s closet.

The maturity that has come with that project is clear. Luncheon is warm and welcoming, its title dancing around the notion of what brings people together—or, rather, what might bring interesting people together. “Lunch is an occasion,” Persson says of the name. “It’s about the conversation, not just the food.” The magazine was cofounded with von Hofmannsthal after the two had worked together on two previous books about her father, the late Lord Snowdon. “She has a very sharp editorial mind,”

he says. But Persson and von Hofmannsthal don’t work from a bubble: few places in London could be more of a manifestation of what their magazine stands for than the studio building where it’s produced. The Rochelle School, a converted Victorian school building, is a walled oasis in busy Shoreditch, home to the likes of Jamie Fobert architects, jeweler Katie Hillier and Frieze. The Rochelle Canteen is frequented by many Luncheon subjects, including its chef, Margot Henderson, and several of its writers and photographers. What truly makes Persson sparkle, though, is when he’s asked about entertaining. “I am quite shy, but I feel when I’m hosting I have a purpose—I can run around and do whatever I want.” He’s quick to list a few favorites—a gathering in Patmos that was intended as a drink before dinner and instead ended at 4 a.m.; a celebration in honor of Peter Schlesinger by Acne Studios in Dia Foundation’s warehouse, with tables decorated with magnolia branches, surrounded by an army of handsome waiters. “There is no greater satisfaction than waking up the next morning and knowing it’s been a great success,” he says.* CENTRAL SAINT MARTINS In preparing to launch Acne Paper, Persson spent a week at the art school’s library, where he studied everything from iconic magazines to niche publications. He was influenced not only by his interest in fashion but also by sculpture, painting, theory and photography—he says the building itself even acted as a general source of inspiration. “A new style of a magazine started to emerge from that week,” he told Dialogue years later.

→ Sauvé’s style is often described as instantly recognizable. She rarely wears makeup, doesn’t smoke and quit drinking 10 years ago.

MARIE- AMÉLIE SAUVÉ

MASTERMIND MAGAZINE T MAGAZINE W MAGAZINE BALENCIAGA

Sauvé’s latest endeavor, the print publication Mastermind, was funded through a partnership with the advertising agency BETC, and comes with complete freedom for the creative director. It includes many of the big brands, but the clothes are uncredited, giving more focus to the storytelling.

“You evolve with the times, but the core point of view of your style is always there,” says Parisian consultant, stylist and creative director Marie-Amélie Sauvé from behind her glass-topped desk. Her office in the sixth arrondissement is extremely restrained: graphic black-and-white carpeting, lots of natural light, a shapely oversized desk lamp, stacks of Mastermind magazine—the biannual fashion and culture crossover publication she founded in 2017—and little else. The aesthetic has echoes of a Palau de Casavells interior that you can find on her Instagram. In sartorial matters, however, Sauvé favors sharp silhouettes that spotlight “the architecture of clothes.” She created her own social media hashtags, #MASLook and #MASdaily, which regularly generate enthusiastic interest from the fashion world. After looking through her Instagram feed, model Maggie Rizer admits she’s “stalking her feet” and asks who designed her boots (answer: Paco Rabanne, for whom Sauvé consults). French actress Léa Seydoux effuses over Sauvé’s brocade frock with crisp wide cuffs. Mother-and-daughter muses Amanda and Tallulah Harlech debate the

merits of a yoga rope below an image of an upside-down Sauvé doing a Sirsasana headstand (she practices daily). Today, Sauvé is wearing a pink pleated shirt under a black Louis Vuitton jacket, a chunky silver watch, black skinny jeans and Louis Vuitton Fireball Bottines (“halfway between a Chelsea boot and a cowboy boot,” she says). Sauvé’s first job was an internship at Vogue Paris. It was “very demanding,” she remembers, “working with the best of the best.” She ascended the masthead but ultimately decided to go freelance to explore a “more underground” facet of the industry. “It was a gold box, but it was a box,” she remembers of her time at the iconic publication. “My departure was very sudden, and I didn’t know what to do, actually. I left and thought, ‘Okay, let’s see what happens.’” Sauvé parlayed her Vogue network into a multidisciplinary approach, and one of unin t ended s el f- discover y. She began consul ting at Tr uss ardi in 19 97 but l ef t t o join Nicolas Ghesquière, appointed creative director of Balenciaga that same year; their collaboration turned the maison into a highly acclaimed label, and the duo renewed their partnership when Ghesquière took the helm of Louis Vuitton in 2013. “You go to the studio where the clothes are made—you learn backstage,” she explains of her consulting role. “It’s to rebuild, and say, ‘This is good for the brand, push this, avoid that.’” As Sauvé puts it, “I’m here to faire un éclairage different,” or shine a new light. “I’m here to see the essence.” Along with consulting, Sauvé continued her styling work for print publications, including Interview, Self Service and various international editions of Vogue, as well as brand advertisements. She became a senior fashion editor at W magazine in 2012, and fashion director of T magazine in 20 16. Sauvé’ s cr eati ve pr oces s i s equally vi scer al and di sci pl i ned. “It’ s i mpor tant t o get your ideas in your head very freely,” she says, “like in psychoanalysis. Afterward, you organize them.” Despite her experience with more mainstream brands, she has also created an independent outlet for herself, spearheading her own publication and working as its creative director. “I tried to soigné the design of the magazine,” she explains. “The layout—the envelope—is very important. I wanted a beautiful object, but I also wanted people to read it.” Sauvé used the ’70s-era publications Nova (English) and Réalités (French) as touchstones, both of which were well designed and covered a broad range of topics. Mastermind’s inaugural issue included photographs by Steven Meisel, a profile with actor/director Xavier Dolan and an interview with Anne Sinclair, the French broadcaster and former wife of IMF chief Dominique StraussKahn. The magazine, underwritten by a division of the French media group Havas, fêted its launch with a private dinner at Manhattan’s Gramercy Park Hotel. Issue two included similar heavy hitters: theater director Bob Wilson and photographer William Eggleston.

It’s important to get your ideas in your head very freely, like in psychoanalysis.

“You open a magazine and there is no point of view,” she says. “There is much more information now than before, so people want to make sure they get it all.” Sauvé notes the difference between good and bad information, or simply uninteresting information: “Nobody is really editing. I had the impression I was reading so many unnec essar y t h i ngs . It ’s t iri ng, you know? So i t wa s i mpor t ant f or me to do so met hi ng more timeless. I prefer to talk about things that will last.” So, how does Sauvé identify what will last? “It’s a question of discernement,” she says, noting how we can all process with intelligence and intuition. “It’s super important to be able to see when something is very strong, true and well done.” She makes the comparison to a well-expressed philosophy “It’s the same thing for fashion, for photography,” she says. “When you recognize an idea and think, ≠‘that’s right.’” Sauvé sees discernement as a quality that is entrenched within her native French culture. “Fighting for your opinion—that’s very French,” she says. “We can be very lazy, very moody, never happy—but also, we love to discuss. I love that permanent dialogue.” It’s important, she says, to question all the time. “When you’re questioning, you’re not influenced by something that will last for one or two years,” she explains. But questioning does not mean wavering—rather, it ultimately leads to strengthening. The certainty, she says, is akin “to being clairvoyante—to seeing clearly what is going on.” *

I prefer to talk about things that will last.

RÉALITIÉS Cited by Sauvé as one of the key influences for Mastermind, iconic French magazine Réalités was a cultural tour de force in postwar Paris. It flourished during the prosperous and optimistic 30-year period known as the “Trente Gl orieuses,” from its first issue in 1946 up to the late 1970s. With a mission to introduce its readership to discover “how the other lives, whether a thousand kilometers away or close by, how they eat, dress, work, love, entertain,” the magazine—much like Sauvé’s Mastermind—covered everything from architecture and film to literature and travel, all through richly illustrated pages. Photography

was central to the magazine’s creative direction, and it boasted an impressive roster of contributors including Irving Penn, Henri Cartier-Bresson and Richard Avedon.

← At the beginning, TANK printed only 6,000 copies and sold them out of the back of a truck. Today, the magazine makes more money from newsstand sales than advertisers.

MASOUD GOLSORKHI & CAROLINE ISSA TANK

Masoud Golsorkhi founded TANK, the British magazine covering art, music, architecture and design, from his London living room. The Iranian-born photographer, collaborating with art director Andreas Laeufer, wanted to produce a magazine without mainstream editorials—and did so, punk-style, independently of any backing. T he t agl i ne? “At hi ngof beau t y andper m anence in anage of t r ansi ence, s ince 1998.” When Laeufer left, Golsorkhi sought a fresh source of imagination and entrepreneurship. Enter Caroline Issa (by way of her aunt,Rose Issa, an Iranian curator and Middle Eastern art dealer). In Issa, Golsorkhi saw the perfect balance: she had “a bus in es s bac kgr ound, but al so creati ve sy mpat hi es and ambit i on, ” he says. He r ecal ls thinking that the Montreal native—blessed with Singaporean, Lebanese and Iranian heritage—was not only enterprising but also incredibly stylish. When Issa met the TANK team, she was dispatching corporate strategy for a range of clients at the firm Marakon.† “I thought she was wasted on management consultancy,” says Golsorkhi dryly. “We tried to save her from a life of high salaries and international travel.” Issa left and soon ventured into a more visionary universe. “They had the magazine, but were also creating a fantastic collectible publication for Levi’s RED,” she recalls. She invested personal savings in the company, becoming a shareholder and joining the mast-head as the magazine’s publisher in 2002. She also contributed creatively. As fashion director and chief executive officer of TANK, she commissions photo shoots and launched BecauseLondon.com in 2007 and the print/app combo Fashion Scan in 2013. Beyond the magazine, Issa has guest-curated a Sotheby’s auction in London (with pieces by Nan Goldin and Barbara Kruger), collaborated on a footwear collection with British label LK Bennett, launched a ready-to-wear collection for Nordstrom and appeared on Vanity Fair’s best-dressed list.

Golsorkhi met Issa when the Wharton graduate was working on corporate strategy for a range of clients, including Nord-strom, Snapple and Boots in London. She knew she would end up in business after working for her parents’ real estate company one summer.

“Caroline is a people person,” Golsorkhi notes, highlighting the duo’s markedly different approaches. “Where I see the glass half empty, she always sees it half full. You can use a lot of different metaphors—you get the gist.” Nonetheless, they

recognized a certain complementarity. “It’s a really nice mix of both of our brains,” Issa says of TANK. “You definitely get the two of us.” Pragmatically speaking, Golsorkhi is involved with the editorial team, often commissioning long-form writing; Issa deals with fashion clients on the agency side (TANK Form) and takes the lead on brand strategy. “You need to have right brain–left brain balance,” she says. “We have a lot of appreciation and respect for each other’s expertise. We both make business decisions, and we both make creative decisions. Every duo has a different kind of magic in how they work. Ours has been really productive.”

Social media is like oxygen now, like electricity. Their bifurcation translates to their digital presence, too. “Social media platforms allow us to be heard much louder, more than what newsstands have given us in the past,” Issa says. “I get messages from everywhere.” She has become an ambassador for the magazine and has gone beyond the masthead as an influential style icon. (Her unimpeachably sophisticated breed of glamour? Bright lipstick, polished ponytail, feminine blouses, tailored blazers, below-the-knee skirts, contrasting accessories.) “Social media is like oxygen now, like electricity,” she reasons. “It just is.” Although, as Golsorkhi is quick to mention, “I don’t think we are uncritical of its flaws.” (He doesn’t have Instagram—“mostly out of laziness”—and uses Twitter only to absorb information.) “There’s no such thing as a free lunch. While we embrace the connectivity it offers, we’re also highly cautious. We’ve even been writing about it,”

he adds, citing the piece he penned about the opportunism and monopolistic cronyism of FAANG (an acronym for Facebook Apple Amazon Netflix Google).

We’re constantly reminding the team that you can love a couture Chanel jacket as much as Fatima Bhutto’s newest novel. TANK’s 20th-anniversary issue—its cover a one-off photograph done in a single long exposure, using a laser to spell out the name in light—features a series of stickers to make each issue bespoke. Expressing optimism about independent print publishing, Issa notes: “To still be able to play with a print format, while being able to produce fantastically interesting and essential content on the inside, is a great reflection of where publishing is—and could be in the future.” She adds, “We’re glad to have stuck it out.”> Still, as the print publishing world ebbed in the face of digital, adapting has been a requisite to ensure longevity. The magazine has garnered a shifting readership: longstanding fans have been supplemented by “a politically motivated young audience” in the wake of Brexit, Golsorkhi notes, with a more engagé response from those seeking internships and those commenting on content. Of TANK’s four issues per year, a literary issue and a travel issue are preset; the remaining two are dedicated to a concept, with illustrative content commissioned around it. To remain distinct, “You have to count on the readership wanting to keep the magazine. Now there is so much choice, you can’t rely on a weird cover,” Golsorkhi says. The magazine’s draw is its “democratic but discerning” philosophy. “Fashion and brains go hand in hand,” Issa emphasizes. “We’re constantly reminding the team that you can love a couture Chanel jacket as much as Fatima Bhutto’s newest novel.” Golsorkhi clarifies: “It’s not about ‘liking’ both, but understanding that a critical sense of interest and investigation can be applied to both. Sometimes things that appear superficial are also significant, if you take the time to analyze them.” He cites the work of Alessandro Michele at Gucci as an example. “I think it is a seriously significant moment in aesthetics in Europe, in a way that we will remember a century from now.” Cultural porousness is embraced—but not unilaterally. “I’m quite resistant to a ‘goulash’ approach, that everything is about everything,” he says. “You have to look at it case by case.” He references, for example, the V&A’s Kylie Minogue show as a misfire. “I think it’s totally legitimate for fashion people to have an interest in art, and for a general interest audience to be interested in both.” But he cautions, “I think you have to be quite incisive in the way you apply yardsticks to different disciplines.” London, as the locus of the magazine, also flavors the vision profoundly. Golsorkhi describes it as “a very distinct type of petri dish, almost a form of a grand human experiment” powered by diversity, toughness, and creativity. The duo are proponents of going beyond an Anglo-Saxon or North American take. “We’ve consistently championed a very diverse range of viewpoints—and we think that’s important. Some of the best writing is coming from India, Pakistan, Africa,” Issa notes. Contributors

have included Kai Friese, an Indian-German writer who brought philosopher Peter Sloterdijk to TANK’s attention, and Panjak Mishra, a longtime collaborator and critical thinker about post-colonialism. The magazine has readily republished its prior work, including an article by Peter Lyle about the perils of Facebook and an article by Malu Halasa (“Men Are Over”) about the decline of white male influence—prescient topics that have resurfaced with full force in contemporary conversation. “I hope it demonstrates a kind of steadfastness and a kind of clarity—intellectually, and also morally,” Golsorkhi says of the publication’s “clear direction and unwavering commitment to a certain unflinching look at reality.” When the first issue of TANK was published, “It was described as a book, because of its unusual format,” he remembers. “I think that has proved prophetic, because TANK’s content has run against the grain of many ideas about magazines to do with ‘zeitgeist’ and ‘here and now.’ We step back and look at a macro current—being, in that sense, more like a book than a magazine.” * PANKAJ MISHRA In 2017, Indian essayist, novelist and frequent TANK contributor Pankaj Mishra released a critically acclaimed work of nonfiction called Age of Anger: A History of the Present. He argues that nationalist movements, from terror groups like ISIS to Brexit, have emerged as a response to the globalization and normalization of Western ideals. The magazine continues to republish works by writers like Peter Lyle and philosopher Peter Sloterdijk. “We’re talentspotters,” says Issa, who is exceedingly proud of the magazine’s unique contributors. “We’re huge cheerleaders of the people who come through.”

Issa says staying calm and maintaining perspective in this industry is key. “You have to remember there’s a bigger picture. If you can read a newspaper every day and have a bigger perspective than the fashion bubble that exists,” she told Atelier Doré, “you become much more aware that fashion isn’t your whole life.”

→ Baron moved to New York at age 21. Within five years, he’d turned down jobs at American Vogue and Vogue Paris, before finally accepting a job at the magazine’s Italian edition.

FABIEN BARON BARON & BARON INTERVIEW HARPER’S BAZAAR VOGUE ITALIA VOGUE PARIS ARENA HOMME PLUS

I can’t bear something that is not well done.

In 1992, photographer Patrick Demarchelier introduced Baron to Liz Tilberis, then the newly appointed editor at Harper’s Bazaar. In her editor’s note for her first issue in September of that year, Tilberis stated that “elegance—of mind as much as of appearance—implies intelligence, certainty of taste, a balanced and centered identity,” setting a new precedent for the fashion magazine.

Fabien Baron’s Manhattan office looks exactly as it should, with industrial features and marble countertops, a sharp palette of black and white and lighting so moody it could be dark. Like the French creative director’s work, the office is sexy but also a little intimidating. The only objects in reception are a perfect white orchid in the corner and a huge black book dedicated to Calvin Klein, a longtime client, on the coffee table. Baron designed the space himself, and its expensive sleekness and expansive rooms (in a city where space is limited) are evidence of what everyone in the fashion industry already knows: Baron is quite possibly the most successful creative director working today. He has been a little of everything, from videographer (commercials for Fendi, L’Oréal, Gucci) to product designer (the flask-like bottle for CK One cologne) and magazine and book chief (Interview, of which he is currently editorial director, as well as Madonna’s controversial 1992 work of erotica, Sex, said to be the bestselling coffee-table book of all time). “I’ll try anything. I always want to challenge myself. I’ll learn by risking failure. It’s nerve-wracking, but to put yourself in a position where everything is easy is very boring,” he says over tea at a long white table in a stark white conference room. “I’m still eager. I can’t bear something that is not well done. Today’s not the best: Tomorrow, I think, I’m going to nail it.” Baron is known for clean minimalism, a revelation when he first broke through as creative director of Franca Sozzani’s Italian Vogue in the late 1980s. His influence moved fashion in a less fussy direction, and he credits his knack for cutting straight to the point to his father, who was an art director for newspapers in France. The most important thing in media is simple storytelling, he remembers being taught. “He was classic, and very respected because he was a good journalist,” Baron says. “I think he gave me that: how to pass information on in a journalistic way.” Baron also says he was crafty from the start, making his own DIY music magazine called Rock ’n’ Roll as a 19-year-old in Paris. “A small little thing, 28 pages, something like that,” he says. “I did everything in it.” Baron’s original leap of faith was ditching France for New York in the early 1980s. “I knew it was in America where things were happening, and so I came,” he remembers. He worked on a few magazine projects before making his way to Sozzani at Italian Vogue and, eventually, Harper’s Bazaar under editor Liz Tilberis.† For their very first issue, he composed an elegant Linda Evangelista on the cover pushing the “A” of the magazine’s title out of orbit across the top. “I wanted to break the mold and rebuild it in a way that actually would make sense for today,” Baron says. He was inspired by the ’90s grunge movement, which the industry had been mostly ignoring. “It was a cultural change driven by music—the youth culture was not accepting everything. They wanted to go to another place; they wanted to be very real.” Baron brought the same fresh energy to what is possibly his most influential work: his ads for Calvin Klein, including the Obsession fragrance campaign in the 1990s with Kate Moss, who was a revolution in her own right, replacing supermodel glamour with a grimier beauty. Authenticity was in. “The creative direction on that was to send [photographer and Moss’ boyfriend] Mario Sorrenti with her on a paid vacation with no hair and no makeup,” he remembers. “They’re obsessed with each other, I thought, so let them figure it out—and they came back with these genius

photos.” Although, he adds, “Apparently they were fighting the entire time.” The advertisements, as well as his CK One campaign with a cast of punky shirtless kids, represented a shift that continues to shape the industry today: Bottling the messy, angsty underground is often the most effective way to create desire and sell things. “Sometimes the problem with marketing people is that they aren’t early enough in the culture,” he says. “Instead of a single woman selling something sexy, a gold bottle with pompous over-the-top-names, we did everything that you would’ve learned not to do at a big fragrance company. They would’ve told you that this would fail,” he says, “but I knew it wouldn’t.” In other words, anytime you see a tattooed greaser pitching a luxury product, Baron is partly responsible. The director has the aura and eye of an artist but insists that many of his choices are actually utilitarian. “Art direction is puzzle-solving,” he explains. “Black-andwhite is much easier. There’s more mood, there’s more feeling. Working with color is more complicated,” he says. Baron also has the ability to collaborate with some of the biggest (and sometimes bossiest) personalities in the industry. “You learn to be a little bit more humble and to put your ego away,” he says. “You count the least, you put everyone else first.” Even his near-spiritual attachment to minimalism (his West Village town house, like his office, is a spartan masterpiece) comes from effect as much as affection. “Minimalism has existed since the world has existed, from a single man putting his hand on the single stone. The Egyptian pyramids. What’s more minimal than that? What about the cross?” he asks of the religious icon. “It’s a minimal symbol and the best logo on the planet. The most famous logo ever.” Baron still finds time to make personal work, waking up early and photographing the ocean, for instance, as a kind of meditation. “That’s for me, not for other people. It chills me down,” he explains. “It’s peaceful, it’s very simple, it’s very pure,” he says of his fascination with water. “It’s there all the time, it doesn’t move, and yet it’s always different.” When asked, after a career in which he’s done almost everything, if there’s anything left to try, he says he’d like to direct a feature film and design a building. “I’m mad about architecture,” he says. He doesn’t mind that Instagram has made almost everyone an amateur creative director either. “That’s great,” he says. “Why not? Everyone is an amateur photographer with the iPhone, and everyone is a model too, with so many selfies. But constantly repeating the good, the good, the good, the good? It takes years of practice and knowledge.” Which is what Baron will do today and the day after: get to work. “I like tomorrow. Always.” *

Minimalism has existed since the world has existed, from a single man putting his hand on a single stone.

CALVIN KLEIN’S CK ONE In the 1990s, Calvin Klein was responsible for some of the most controversial ad campaigns of the decade. Featuring a teenage Kate Moss among other new faces, the clean but edgy approach with CK One ushered in a bold new lifestyle brand. “Heroin chic” and its casual sexuality have become a classic piece of marketing history. The brand relaunched the CK One video series in 2011, and celebrated its 20th anniversary in 2015 with the hashtag #meforme, a very millennial slogan harking back to the original concept.

→ For the past 30 years, Baron has been responsible for revamping over five publications, including Italian Vogue, Harper’s Bazaar and Interview, and rebranding companies like Coach.

← Swara draws inspiration from Bauhaus principles and the work of Swiss designer Max Bill.

KUCHAR SWARA

PORT

I t t a k es a c ertain type of cr e at ive t o f i nd i ns pirati o n i n bo t h a sh oppin g l i st an shipwreck. Kuchar Swara, the award-winning creative director and co-founder of PORT magazine, explains how creativity is nothing if not listening to your gut. “You just never know where it’s going to turn up,” the 36-year-old admits. Today, Swara l o ok s to m oderni sm. Tomorr ow, anyt hing. “You sudden ly get an idea that we’re all trying to figure things out,” he says of potentially seeing a celebrity side by side with a niche writer. “What does it mean to take certain subject matter and play with it in this day and age?” he asks. “And not try to do something that’s been repeated but try to do something human and tactile?” It’s a vision that favors philosophy over technology, first impressions over rules. But this wasn’t always the case for the Iranian-born Londoner. Influenced by early mentor and renowned designer Simon Esterson, Swara initially approached his craft with a formalist’s eye, committed to rules and tradition. It wasn’t until 2011 that PORT co-founder Matt Willey showed Swara what it meant to experiment in the service of experience. Swara proudly admits the magazine’s consistency has been its inconsistency ever since. The designer had a similar moment with an unusual brief from publisher Tyler

Brûlé when redesigning the Italian art and architecture magazine Case da Abitare in 2008. The London College of Printing graduate found himself working with casual references instead of firm objectives like those found in traditional briefs. “It was honestly like looking at a recipe book,” he remembers. “Not even a recipe book, but it was almost like a shopping list of what to go and buy in the supermarket and then you come back and you cook the dish—but there was no method for to how to cook the dish!” Swara says the experience, however clichéd, shook something loose at the time. “It was more about the approach,” he says, “to even think of something in that fashion. And I thought that was such a refreshing way to do it, because we all have our cultural reference points.” Those experiences, he says, can translate to millions of outcomes that ultimately bend toward originality. As for the shipwreck? It came courtesy of Damien Hirst during the Venice Biennale last year. “Genius, genius exhibition,” he says with a laugh. Hirst submerged a fictional vessel only to “excavate” its treasures in the form of gold and recognizable cartoon characters. “If art can be funny, that was hilarious,” he recalls, while watching a confused couple discuss the work. Whether through print or his recent watch brand Sekford, he continues to ask: “How do you make people feel a certain way?” Swara is hoping that a little creative ricochet, with all its cultural clues and playful contexts, will help him get there.*

What does it mean to take certain subject matter and play with it in this day and age?

CHRISTOPHER DRESSER “It was kind of like a holy cow moment when I saw this guy’s stuff,” Swara remembers. “I just thought, how amazing is it that someone can really step out of the time that they’re in and think so independently.” Christopher Dresser is the designer and theorist most commonly associated with the Aesthetic Movement and widely known as the first independent designer. His square teapot from 1879

pulled from a number of influences, including his studies in botany. “It was just unlike anything anyone had ever done before,” Swara says. “It was this amazing fusion of rationality mixed with over-the-top decadence mixed with ancient history mixed with Roman Classicism. Unbelievable reference points.”

→ Nickerson inherited a collection of fashion magazines from her grandmother, who was friends with the painter Augustus John and the photographer Cecil Beaton.

CAMILLA NICKERSON VOGUE HARPERS & QUEEN

Camilla Nickerson was only a teenager when she was discovered by Sophie Hicks, then a fashion editor at British Vogue. A young Nickerson was smoking a cigarette outside of school when Hicks approached her and within days, she was on set donning designs by Rei Kawakubo. “I was a terrible model,” she laughs. “So when I realized that fashion editors existed, I was really happy to find and connect with my passion.” She goes on to describe that passion as “using clothes to tell stories about the world,” something she has done for the likes of American Vogue, i-D and W, as well as notable fashion houses including Alexander McQueen, Yves Saint Laurent and Céline. It is perhaps unsurprising that Nickerson, having worked with some of the top names in fashion and publishing, has countless sources of inspiration. “There are hundreds of thousands of things that have influenced me,” she admits. Nonetheless, there are a few people who earn special recognition. “After work, I used to go to Crunch Studios,” she recalls, harkening back to the early days of her career. “There was this hotbed of creative people: Judy Blame and Christopher Nemeth making clothes, and Mark Lebon photographing them. They took me under t hei r wings and were hugely i ns pir in g and nurt uri ng.” As f o r o t her ment or s , Nickerson names the iconic editor Grace Coddington, whom she worked alongside at British Vogue (“You could really see her passion translate to extraordinary storytelling,” she remembers) and Steven Meisel, “who could turn these women, with his light and love of fashion, into extraordinary muses.” Nickerson has also become an advisor; former women’s creative director for Calvin Klein, Francisco Costa, dubbed her his“extension,” explaining to V magazine, “I trust her judgment 100 percent.”

← When Nickerson isn’t working, she enjoys spending time with her two teenage sons. “It’s great to see when my boys connect to clothes, or music or a book or play,” she said in an interview with The Gentlewoman.

Nickerson has long emphasized the importance of looking outside of the industry when it comes to her own creative process. “I go to galleries, read a lot of books, just constantly try to stay in touch,” she says. “I’m intrigued by what is going on elsewhere in culture and how that can connect back to fashion.” With that mind-set, Nickerson has become an essential authority for the modern and minimal aesthetic that she helped to define. In 1990, director David Fincher, known for films like Fight Club and The Social Network, called on Nickerson for a project: George Michael’s “Freedom! ’90” music video. The set was an old mansion, and the stars were some of the top supermodels of the day—Naomi Campbell, Christy Turlington, Cindy Crawford, Linda Evangelista and Tatjana Patitz. With the budget going almost entirely toward a white linen sheet that wrapped around Turlington, Nickerson styled the other women in clothes from her own wardrobe (Crawford sported boots that belonged to Nickerson’s boyfriend at the time, and Evangelista wore her sweater). “And then suddenly there was this new mood, which was about reality,” Nickerson told Vogue. “It was okay just to be you, and it was okay to borrow your boyfriend’s clothes, have chipped fingernails, tell it as it is.” The iconic video set a new precedent—from the models themselves to Nickerson’s work—for the interaction between popular culture and fashion.

My work is informed daily by something as simple as walking around. The images also set the stage for the book Fashion: Photography of the Nineties that she co-edited in 1996 with her then-husband, critic Neville Wakefield. Work by fashion photographers like Juergen Teller and Corinne Day sat alongside shots by Nan Goldin and Cindy Sherman. “The rawness and spontaneity that for so long set Goldin’s work apart from the vast majority of fashion images,” wrote Holly Brubach in a 1997 article for The New York Times Magazine, “are now standard features of the new style—a style so closely allied with art photography that in Nickerson and Wakefield’s book it is often impossible to tell the difference.” Nickerson is still making waves in the industry, and credits her two sons, Atticus and Jackson, with keeping her linked to popular culture today. She also acknowledges the importance of New York, a city she’s called home since moving from London more than two decades ago. “It’s an incredibly democratic city,” she says. “It’s so intense. We’re all reduced to the same level while trying to find our own space. The city is also just full of crazy people with fantastic style, and they’re all in the street. My work is informed daily by something as simple as walking around.” These “snippets,” as she calls them, “are what ultimately inform the clothes and the photograph.”*

← Martinez de Salas brought American and European furniture with her from New York but has turned primarily to local design while decorating her home in Mexico City.

KARLA MARTINEZ DE SALAS

VOGUE MEXICO VOGUE LATIN AMERICA W MAGAZINE INTERVIEW T MAGAZINE

Shortly after Karla Martinez de Salas relocated from New York to Mexico City, she gave birth to twins girls, Costanza and Ines. “Through everything that I promote, all the content, I’m very aware of how my daughters will consume it when they’re older,” she reflects. As editor in chief of Vogue Mexico and Vogue Latin America, she strives to illustrate the different sides of women. “I want the images to celebrate strength, power, vulnerability,” she says. Martinez de Salas took her early inspiration from powerful female figures: “[At American Vogue], I worked with an assistant market editor, and we called in clothes for Grace Coddington, Phyllis Poznick, Camilla Nickerson,” she remembers. These women were the “creative forces” at the magazine and in her case, personally instrumental. Nickerson, she says, “would do all of these twists and turns with the clothes but knew that at the end of the day, she had to turn in a certain kind of image. She was breaking the rules, but in her own way that she knew Anna [Wintour] would like and appreciate.” Looking back, she calls Vogue “an amazing school,” crediting her job at the company as one of the most formative. She admits that although it might seem trivial to have called in clothes and jewelry for these women, it was one of the best learning experiences. “It was never just a bathing suit. It was about the process. And that’s how

it is for me now,” she explains. “It was never, and is still never, only clothes for me; it’s the process of making an amazing picture.” From Vogue, she went to work at The New York Times’ T magazine, under the influential wing of Stefano Tonchi. “With him, I learned that it’s about more than fashion,” she recalls. “It’s about art, travel, food, architecture—all of these things that make up style.” Thinking back on her first meetings at the magazine, she laughs, “I would write down all of the names that were mentioned, because I didn’t know who they were talking about. Everyone was so much smarter and more cultured than I was.” A 10-month (“short, but productive”) stint at Interview alongside Fabien Baron and Karl Templer followed. “That’s where I really learned how you really get the picture that you want,” she says of her time at the magazine. Eventually, though, she was lured back by Tonchi, this time at W magazine, and hired as the fashion market and accessories director. Now, helming Vogue Mexico and Vogue Latin America, Martinez de Salas says she is more ambitious than ever. “I feel like Latinos haven’t really raised their voices. We’ve been silent about our place in the creative industry,” she admits. “Like when Nina Garcia was appointed the editor in chief of ELLE, nobody said she was a Latina woman. She is, and that’s kind of a big deal.” With that in mind, Martinez de Salas is on a mission: “It’s super important to not only promote the culture and all the amazing beaches, what have you, but the people who are here, who are representing Latin America and Mexico in the fashion industry and the world in general,” she says.† “I feel like our platform could be really powerful in that sense, and that’s exciting for me.” The editor in chief aims to “give voice” to photographers, models and other creative professionals, both in the magazine and behind the scenes. As for any major difference in her work, having moved markets, she says, “The staff here is much smaller. In New York, there are 10 people in the fashion department alone. Here, we have something like 15 in total.” But, she adds, “It’s kind of a reality check on all the excess of the industry in New York.”

In 2010, Martinez de Salas co-founded Project Paz with a group of friends in New York City. The nonprofit partners with designers, artists and brands like Sotheby’s and Carolina Herrera to support children and promote peace in Juarez, Mexico.

Life in Mexico City has been an adjustment as well, but one that Martinez de Salas takes in stride. “One of the biggest mistakes that I made when I moved here,” she remembers, “was trying to mimic my life in New York, which was not very easy to do.” Relying on a car, she says, has been a significant lifestyle change, on top of adapting to cultural differences more generally. “Fitness culture, which only recently started taking off here, is really interesting. People can come late to a class, which would just never happen in New York. The other day, I was stressed because I was late for yoga, but when I walked in, nobody cared,” she laughs. When it comes to the city itself, she bubbles with excitement. “There’s always something going on here,” she says. Mexico City, she notes, is one of the cities with

the most museums in the world—Museo Nacional de Antropología, Museo Nacional de Historia and Museo Frida Kahlo are just a few of its most notable. On top of those institutions, the region is gaining more international notice in the art world with fairs like Zona Maco. “Mexico has been in the spotlight, and in a good way,” she reveals. “There was a stigma around Mexico being dangerous—and it can be—but people are coming here now for the food scene, the art, the culture.” That attention is markedly different from where she grew up. “I always say that El Paso is the forgotten child of Texas,” she explains of her southwestern roots. “When you grow up in a small city, you really appreciate other cities. Everywhere we went had more than El Paso, and was really exciting because I wasn’t jaded.” Now in the heart of a world-class city, Martinez de Salas is grateful for her less-than-traditional roots. “We grew up listening to Depeche Mode, the Violent Femmes and other alternative rock bands,” she says. “I feel like the people around me were always rebelling against the fold.” El Paso, in her eyes, doesn’t get the recognition it deserves.“There is a big group of people from El Paso and Juarez who wound up in New York, in creative industries.” After studying marketing at the University of Arizona in Tucson, which she describes as “also a very small town,” Martinez de Salas moved to Paris for an internship, first with IMG Models and then at the Hearst offices. “I thought, ‘Oh my god. This is the best place ever,’” she recalls. That awareness, she says, sets her apart from those who grew up in major urban environments and allows her to see things in a different light. “There are so many types of people here, and that really influences you creatively,” she says of Mexico City. With her unique eye and endless inspirations, Martinez de Salas is not just shaping the future of Vogue Mexico and Vogue Latin America; she is shaping the future of the region itself. “I really hope that when people see my magazines, they want to know more about our culture, the people and what happens here,” she adds. “And that they discover something new.* Martinez de Salas says the Parque de Chapultepec is one of her favorite places to run and roam with her daughters in Mexico City.

I feel like the people around me were always rebelling against the fold.

PUBLISHING ARCHIVE

← Collaborating with close friend and photographer Steven Meisel, Sozzani helped create the phenomenon of the supermodel. Her editorial instinct led her to feature topics and issues that other fashion publications avoided, such as domestic violence, drug abuse and recovery and the Gulf of Mexico oil spill of 2010. She also launched Vogue Curvy, staffed by plus-size bloggers, in February 2011.

1950–2016

FRANCA SOZZANI

Franca Sozzani was appointed editor of Vogue Italia in 1988, creating a magazine that was “extravagant, experimental, innovative,” in her words. She also pushed the magazine to be image-led, considering visual language more international than the written word. Her photographers and stylists, including Bruce Weber, Peter Lindbergh and Steven Meisel, were given creative freedom, with Sozzani ever-ready to defend their ideas. According to American Vogue, Weber once wrote to her: “When I sent all these photos to you, I would write on the package ‘personal.’ I now realize that I took them for you because you would be the only one who would understand.”¶ She considered fashion to be not simply about clothes but also about life, and ran photostories that confronted issues of race, gender and the environment. The editor also worked with a number of charities and initiatives, including the United Nations World Food Programme. Of her creative drive and passion for life, her son once explained to The Guardian: “She’s very much about the future.” Sozzani added, “It’s not that I don’t think of the past, but it’s a waste of time. If you’re stuck in the past, beholden to it, then your creativity is stuck there, too, because you don’t give yourself a chance to evolve.”¶ Sozzani was born in Mantua, Italy, in 1950, to a traditional family. She wanted to study physics, but after her father refused, she chose literature and philosophy at the University of the Sacred Heart in Milan. Upon graduating, she was briefly married—with only three months passing before annulment—and soon left Italy to travel to India. She said, as quoted by American Vogue, “I thought it was time to do something good with my life.” And that she did. Asked by a reporter from The Guardian what, in her opinion, is the greatest asset that she brings to her work, Sozzani replied: “I add the dream.” She held her editor role at Vogue Italia for 28 years, until her death in December 2016.*

→ Known to value emerging talent, Sozzani opened Vogue Italia’s Milan office to the public on multiple occasions. Young visitors could meet with and ask questions of the editor and her staff.

1887–1961

CARMEL SNOW

Born in Dalkey, an affluent suburb of Dublin, Ireland, in 1887, Carmel Snow moved to America as a child, following her mother, who found work at the Irish Woollen Manufacturing and Export Company. Snow would later assist at the custom dressmaker T.M & J.M Fox, where her interest in fashion was cemented. ¶ Snow was hired as an assistant fashion editor at Vogue in 1921, befriending Condé Nast, and was promoted to fashion editor in a few short years. In 1932, she accepted an offer from William Randolph Hearst to become editor of Harper’s Bazaar, then the main rival of Vogue, and was informed by Nast that her “treacherous act [would] cling to [her] and [her] conscience,” as reported by The New York Times.¶ It was a bold move, followed by a series of bold editorial decisions that would redefine the nature of fashion publishing. Snow considered fashion “an aspect of highly developed culture,” according to The Irish Times, and under her editorship Harper’s published fiction and journalism by the likes of Virginia Woolf, Evelyn Waugh, Colette and Truman Capote. She also ran Henri Cartier-Bresson’s wartime photojournalism, and worked with Jean Cocteau, Man Ray, Richard Avedon and Martin Munkacsi. In fact, it was with Munkacsi that she disrupted fashion photography altogether. She commissioned the photojournalist to capture a model running toward the camera on a windswept beach, bringing personality and life to a context traditionally known for still, mannequin-like reserve.¶ Under her leadership, the magazine was art directed by Alexey Brodovitch, who worked with Snow to reassess the form—both in the context of Harper’s Bazaar and as a genre—and reconsider the relationship between text and image, cropping, white space and typography. Snow’s most renowned protégé was Diana Vreeland, whom she hired as fashion editor after seeing her dancing at New York’s St. Regis Hotel. The decision was fitting for an editor whose career was

defined by bringing the page to life.*

As editor in chief of Harper’s Bazaar, Snow championed the concept of “a well-dressed magazine for the well-dressed mind.” Starting in 1932, the former Condé Nast insider changed the tired and dowdy rival publication into a dynamic cultural force that grew into an unprecedented 500 pages. She was a thoroughly modern thinker as well, presenting a teenage Lauren Bacall and a then-unknown Andy Warhol to what was then a mostly conservative readership. Notably, when all Hearst magazines were forbidden to publish photos of African Americans, Snow defied her boss and signed off on a portrait of the great opera singer Marian Anderson.

1925–1983

WILLY FLECKHAUS

Known as “Germany’s most expensive pencil,” Willy Fleckhaus is thought to have introduced the art director role to that country’s design industry, inventing the position for himself at youth lifestyle magazine Twen. Fleckhaus’ dominance of the magazine is said to have caused a slew of editors to leave with battered egos; the graphic design quarterly Eye called Twen “the embodiment of a single-minded vision, a synthesis of New York editorial chutzpah and Germanic rationalism—Madison Avenue meets the Ulm School.”¶ Fleckhaus played with extremes of scale, contrast and repetition, and was known for his visual drama—cutting and pasting text with image in a flat hierarchy that sprung from the page. His aim, he said, was to “illuminate words,” which he successfully achieved by employing groundbreaking typography. Fleckhaus was born in Velbert in 1925 and was drafted into Germany’s armed forces during World War II. Graphic design was a way for him to relive the youth that had previously seemed impossible. In Eye’s profile on the seminal designer, his friend and peer Adolf Theobald said, “Protest, opposition, liberalism, sentimentality, pleasure— all these things were worked out, processed through the layout.” *

1922–2012

HELEN GURLEY BROWN

Credited with inventing the phrase “having it all,” Helen Gurley Brown was appointed editor of Cosmopolitan in 1965—spurred, at least in part, by her 1962 book Sex and the Single Girl—and remained until 1997. Brown had previously worked as an advertising copywriter in New York, and when she pitched a new magazine to Hearst, the publisher instead offered her the job of relaunching Cosmopolitan, which had been a flailing literary periodical for married suburbanites. She overhauled the magazine, making it about life, love, work, sex, money and social life and encouraging women to not “use men to get what you want in life—get it for yourself.” ¶ Brown was born in Arkansas in 1922, and her father died in an accident when she was 10 years old. Her mother later moved the family to Los Angeles, where Brown went to secretarial school and worked at a string of jobs to support her family. In a profile with The Guardian, she said: “Why am I so driven? It seems logically to have derived from things that happened to me after my father died, but some of it must have been residual from very early.” And while her position on and in feminism remains hard to define, she was driven to forge her own path, sharing those experiences along the way.*

← Born in Kiev in 1912, Liberman attended European boarding schools but is said to have learned more from his actress mother’s Parisian circle. As editorial director of Condé Nast publications for 30 years and mastermind of Vogue for 20 years prior, Liberman did more to change the appearance of magazines than any other designer, according to The Guardian. Alex, as he was known, was an alpha male with courtly manners and a gifted photographer.

1912–1999

ALEXANDER LIBERMAN

As editorial director of Condé Nast, Alexander Liberman inspired and traumatized generations of magazine editors and art directors. Known to toss out entire issues days before deadline, if he was ever challenged, he’d respond by saying, “My friend, it’s modern.”¶ A Russian émigré who had studied and worked in Paris before leaving wartorn Europe for America in 1941, Liberman was determined to imbue Condé Nast’s publications with a sense of freedom and informality. In particular, he aimed to rid Vogue of its “Ophelias dancing through the Plaza at dawn,” as quoted in his New York Times obituary. He had an equal appreciation for high and low culture, with a colleague remarking to Vogue, “He’s the least sentimental man I have known . . . He was a modernist through and through, and he loved America’s hard edges, its planned obsolescences, its energy and vulgarity.”¶ Liberman worked with Irving Penn, Cecil Beaton, Helmut Newton and Annie Leibovitz; commissioned features on Giacometti, Matisse and Duchamp; and comfortably moved from cool minimalism to exuberant chaos on his magazine pages. He was also an artist, a painter and sculptor whose work is now held in various museum collections (though at the time wasn’t “taken seriously,” in his opinion). Liberman told the New York Times writer Barbara Rose, who went on to author a monograph of his work in 1981, “More and more I rebel, maybe even because I work in a magazine that surrounds itself with civilized behavior, taste and so forth.” Although his art was never given significant consideration by the establishment, his publishing legacy still thrives. Véronique Vienne, the first art director at Condé Nast’s Self, wrote of what Liberman had taught her in Alex Liberman: Ways of Thinking About Design: “To be willing to destroy in order to create. To make it big. To find rather than fabricate. To be very polite with assistants. To despise good taste.” *

← Liberman preferred photographs of people doing real things and stated in the Vogue Book of Fashion Photography 1919–1979, “A fashion photograph is not a photograph of a dress but a photograph of a woman.”

1908–1991

CIPE PINELES

Born to Jewish parents in Poland in 1908, Cipe Pineles immigrated to America when she was 15. While she initially struggled to get a job, potential employers being reluctant to hire a woman, she would eventually become the first female member of the Art Directors Club in 1945. A Pratt Institute graduate, she took a job as a graphic designer at Contempora, where she would later meet Condé Nast at a party. Upon seeing her work, Nast recommended her to his art director, M. F. Agha. From him, Pineles learned about typography, photography and magazine composition, and soon became art director of Glamour.¶ She would go on to art direct Seventeen, Charm and Mademoiselle, each an important magazine at the time. Seventeen’s founding editor, Helen Valentine, virtually invented the teen market, and in Charm, Valentine identified the growing interest group of working women. Pineles followed the classical tradition of layout and typography in her art direction, but inflected it with innovation—working with fine artists as illustrators and bringing modern art to the young mainstream, and commercial opportunities to modern artists. In an interview with the AIGA, she proposed: “You might say we tried to convey the attractiveness of reality, as opposed to the glitter of a never-never land.” *

1915–1978

BARBARA “BABE” PALEY

Born in Boston, in 1915, Barbara Cushing— or Babe Paley, as she’s more famously known—worked as a fashion editor at Vogue from 1938 to 1948. Her life, however, was certainly larger than the page. Her father was a renowned brain surgeon, and her family moved in prestigious circles—one sister married an Astor, the other a Roosevelt and later a Whitney. Paley was known to be one of Truman Capote’s famous “Swans,” and he considered her flawless, bar one defect: “Mrs. P had only one fault,” he told Vanity Fair. “She was perfect: otherwise, she was perfect.”¶ Elegant and immaculate in “quality and serenity,” in the opinion of society decorator Billy Baldwin, Paley was also known to maintain a discreet distance from her loved ones, her children and her first and second husbands—Stanley Mortimer Jr. and William Paley. She preferred to communicate through her style, and was careful to maintain her personal reputation until her death in 1978 (though her efforts were at one point compromised by Capote’s La Côte Basque story, which skewered New York’s high society and Paley herself). Paley, a lifelong smoker, was diagnosed with lung cancer in 1974, and during her illness, she planned her own funeral, right down to the details of the lunch, and the gift-wrapping of her jewelry collection.*

1898–1971

ALEXEY BRODOVITCH

Appointed art director at Harper’s Bazaar by editor Carmel Snow in 1934, Alexey Brodovitch began his role with his well-known catchphrase, “Astonish me.” It was also a challenge he’d given to his students at Philadelphia’s University of the Arts, where the Russian-born designer had moved after living in Paris. Of Brodovitch’s work, Snow remarked, “I saw a fresh, new conception of layout technique that struck me like a revelation: pages that ‘bled,’ beautifully cropped photographs, typography and design that were bold and arresting.”¶ He was one of the first art directors to integrate text and image, as well as art and design, introducing and commissioning his friends Man Ray, Jean Cocteau, Raoul Dufy and Marc Chagall. Brodovitch saw rhythm as the key to magazines, and would crop and integrate features and fashion stories according to mood and dynamic, rather than legibility or commercial viability. Truman Capote told Harper’s Bazaar: “What Dom Pérignon was to champagne . . . so Brodovitch has been to photograph design and editorial layout.”¶ In 1958, after the death of his wife, Nina, Brodovitch became depressed, and a short time later, he was fired from the magazine. Over the next two years, he would regularly be in the hospital, suffering from depression and alcoholism, and although he continued to pursue new projects, they’d each be abandoned, canceled or unfulfilled. His Design Laboratory Workshops, a wide-ranging experimental lab he founded in 1933 as an extension of his teaching, continued with the help of his friend artist Harvey Lloyd. Brodovitch also lived with Lloyd and would accompany him to the workshops to speak when he was able. In 1966, Brodovitch fell and broke his hip, and soon after, he returned to France in a poor physical and financial state. Nonetheless, his legacy continued on.*

Brodovitch’s Ballet is easily among the most legendary photobooks of the 20th century. Shot on 35mm film and printed in a small run of only a few hundred copies in 1945, Brodovitch’s images radically disregard conventions of “good” technique. Blurred and fast-paced, they capture the motion and spirit of dance both in rehearsals and on stage. It was the director’s only book ever published.

→ Brodovitch commissioned a wide range of graphic art and specialized in showcasing the work of unknown photographers, nurturing the careers of icons such as Irving Penn and Richard Avedon.

1903–1989

DIANA VREELAND

“There’s only one very good life, and that’s the one you know you want and you make it yourself.” These are the words Diana Vreeland lived by. Born in Paris in 1903, she moved with her family at the outbreak of World War I to New York, where they quickly became prominent members of the social scene.Vreeland trained as a dancer, and lived above her means as a socialite. In 1924, she married banker Thomas Reed Vreeland, and “led a wonderful life in Europe . . . having marvelous summers, studying and reading a great deal,” as she explained to Lynn Gilbert years later. ¶ Editor Carmel Snow offered Vreeland a position at Harper’s Bazaar upon her return from Europe after admiring her dancing on the roof of the St. Regis in New York. What started as an advice column—the infamous “Why don’t you . . .”—soon created a legend. After Harper’s, Vreeland went to Vogue, where she worked with Grace Mirabella. In an interview with Vanity Fair Mirabella spoke of Vreeland as a sort of divine grace: “She hooked you. We all had the feeling that we’d die for her,” she explained. “From the moment she wanted you, you were as loyal as a Labrador.” *

→ Joining Vogue in 1962, Vreeland was the perfect editor to document the decade. Gone were the whiteglove spreads of the ’50s, replaced with appearances by Mick Jagger, Veruschka and Twiggy.

→ After she was fired from Vogue in 1971, Vreeland curated exhibitions at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, although she often confused centuries and was the first to admit she was “terrible on facts,” according to a profile in The Guardian. Still, her work drew millions of visitors every year. The Met’s annual fashion exhibition has become her legacy.

READING LIST

1. Vogue Italia’s March 2016 issue was one of long-standing editor in chief Franca Sozzani’s last before her death. 2. Port Magazine, under the creative direction of Kuchar Swara, has featured everyone from architect Tadao Ando to actor Ethan Hawke. 3. To celebrate its 10th anniversary, Fantastic Man released a book featuring 69 of the magazine’s most provocative subjects. 4. Holiday, the magazine that was revived by Franck Durand after a 37-year hibernation, focuses on a new location in each issue. 5. From editor Stefano Tonchi, W: Fashion Stories revisits 10 of the magazine’s most provocative features. 6. All 15 issues of Acne Paper produced between 2004 and 2014 under the direction of Thomas Persson are collector’s items.

7. As the book’s creative director, Thomas Persson celebrates Lord Snowdon’s extensive career in Snowdon: A Life In View. 8. Thomas Persson collaborates with Frances von Hofmannsthal to produce Luncheon, a magazine that draws inspiration from midday meals. 9. A longtime collaborator with the Bavarian State Opera, Mirko Borsche helps to shape its image with print collateral like this season guide. 10. Mirko Borsche’s creative direction for ZEITMAGAZIN leans on up-and-coming photographers, illustrators and artists. 11. The Gentlewoman, art directed by Veronica Ditting, is a magazine that celebrates the international modern woman. 12. Fabien Baron’s creative direction helped bring Madonna’s erotic fantasies to the printed page in Sex.

13. Under Fabien Baron’s editorial direction, Interview magazine features conversations with some of the most well-known personalities in fields from fashion to film. 14. Lee Miller, published by Hatje Cantz, offers insight into one of the 20th century’s most prolific photographers. 15. Herb Ritts explores the human form in Men/Women, a collection of black-and-white photographs from the first decade of his career. 16. Fashion icon Marie-Amélie Sauvé releases Mastermind, her glossy style biannual, on the first day of each New York Fashion Week. 17. A portrait of a visionary, It’s Modern dives into the professional and private life of Alexander Liberman. 18. First published in 1952, The Decisive Moment is a compilation of European master Henri CartierBresson’s most influential work.

19. Forget genre and style-specific volumes; Allure reveals the breadth of photography from the 1920s to the present. 20. Grace looks back at the first 30 years of flame-haired Coddington’s career at Vogue. 21. Best known for his black-and-white work, Lartigue: Life In Color highlights a different, more vibrant side of the “amateur” photographer. 22. In 2003, Vogue Paris witnessed a redesign at the hands of Fabien Baron, who served as the magazine’s art director until 2008. 23. From Fabien Baron and Moss herself, the retrospective Kate tracks the career of a model from unknown to international icon. 24. For multiple seasons, Thomas Persson collaborated with Hermès to create inserts showcasing the latest collection. The publications are distributed in their stores globally.

ENTERTAINMENT

← McGregor’s intellectual, often scientific approach to choreography is balanced by his deep respect for the creative process of “physical thinking.”

WAYNE MCGREGOR

STUDIO WAYNE MCGREGOR THE ROYAL BALLET

“I’m not sure that I looked for a career in dance,” choreographer Wayne McGregor reflects. “But, dance found me.” While most of his peers had classical ballet training, McGregor cites his early influences as ballroom, Latin and disco dancing—and movies like Grease and Saturday Night Fever. A very active child, he found dance to be a release for his tremendous physical and creative energy. Today, he swims, and though he doesn’t perform anymore, he stresses the importance of participating in rehearsals. “I’m not just sitting on a chair directing,” McGregor says. “For five to six hours, I’m dancing and moving my body. The process is very physical.” McGregor’s interest in the body extends beyond the obvious connection to his profession. “The relationship between science and the body seems like a natural conversation to me,” he says. The choreographer regularly reads New Scientist and Prospect, and though this might seem like it wouldn’t directly connect to his work, it does. For a show called Autobiography, for example, McGregor collaborated with scientists at the Wellcome Trust Sanger Institute and used his genetic code as inspiration. “Science and technology have allowed us to see inside the body, to unpeel layers and start to understand it differently,” he explains. “Rather than think about the body from the outside, we can think about it from the inside. We can get a sense of what actually is happening cognitively when we are working creatively.” McGregor attributes his fascination with science and technology to being a part of the first

generation with home computers. “I used to spend time doing really rudimentary coding, and the Internet has also been a massive reference point in my life.” Yet science and technology are far from his only influences: he reads copiously, is frequently listening to and hunting for music and considers architecture “a hobby.” His home is a restored 1930s Bauhaus construction in Devon, England, and with his partner, he built a house and studio in Lamu, Kenya. “I’m always looking for a building project,” he laughs. So when his company, Studio Wayne McGregor, which he founded at age 21 under the name Random Dance, celebrated its 25th anniversary, it was time for a new headquarters. McGregor chose the former Broadcast Centre for the 2012 Olympic Games in East London as the company’s new home, and the finished product, designed by architects We Not I, is a radical redefinition of the dance studio. “We wanted to build a series of studios in London that was refreshing and evocative but that also allowed you to be in those spaces in very resourceful and exciting ways,” he says. “When you’re in an inspiring and open space, where there is room to think and to move, it elicits different primers in the brain and body.” McGregor, for example, removed the ballet barres from all of the studios. “Dancers do ballet class for an hour and 10 minutes,” he says. “Why, then, for the rest of the day do we have these ballet barres intersecting the body?” In addition to the studios, there is a gym, a meditation room and a panoramic view of East London alongside a rooftop meeting room housed in an Airstream trailer. Its design was inspired by visits to Marfa, Texas, and McGregor’s overall love of minimalism, and he has infused the space with various artworks. There is a bespoke floor based on Bauhaus artist Anni Albers’ study for Camino Real and pieces by Haroon Mirza and Tatsuo Miyajima on loan from Lisson Gallery.

Though McGregor is often lauded for his innovation, he says that it isn’t something he strives for. “You just have to ‘do,’” he explains. “You have to jump in and get your feet—actually, your whole body—wet and hope that something interesting will come of it.”

It’s immediately evident that McGregor’s work, whether in the studio or on the stage, is about much more than dance. “What I’m looking at is human physical potential,” he clarifies. “My goal is to create a brilliant generation of fluent, physical beings. That’s what I do, which so often does reach beyond the dimensions of dance.” He cites American postmodern choreographer Merce Cunningham as a major influence. A pioneer in modern dance, Cunningham was known for bringing visual arts, music and technology into his work. “He posited that all of these influences can have an equal weight in performance,” McGregor says. “Dancing and choreography don’t necessarily have to be at the top of the food chain—they’re just elements of something that coalesce to a really interesting, engaging moment for an audience.”

McGregor lists Zaha Hadid and John Pawson among his list of favorite architects. He has collaborated with Pawson twice. “I absolutely love how he explores the idea of emptiness,” he says.

To create that sort of cross-pollination, collaboration is essential, so McGregor has worked with artists like Olafur Eliasson, musicians Jamie XX and Mark Ronson and architecture firm Ciguë (he was also tapped as movement director for the Harry Potter films, director for Max Richter’s chamber opera and choreographer for Thom Yorke’s music videos). When asked how he chooses his collaborators, McGregor says he is usually “just a fan.”† “I’ll reach out if someone’s work inspires me. Then it’s important to determine whether we have a good energy together,” he explains. “I never go into a collaboration knowing what it’s going to be. Rather, I come with an invitation to explore, to say, ‘What can we do together?’ My most pleasurable collaborations are typically where we are very lost for a time and then suddenly, something emerges—I

just love that.” Working with people, McGregor says, is the highlight of his job. “Collaboration,” he continues, “is really all about psychology, a transfer of energies, trust and interpersonal skills. Building teams, working toward and achieving something—that’s what I find exciting.” McGregor is still in awe that a part of his job involves traveling the world, having incredible encounters with people “that [he] never could have imagined meeting.” Though he enjoys touring, he prefers when he gets to stay in a city for extended periods of time. “I’m lucky that while making something, I often have the opportunity to stay somewhere for eight weeks or so. I really get to live it.” McGregor also appreciates travel outside of his work-related obligations. When he goes to his space in Lamu, a remote island with no roads and few motorized vehicles, he spends time reading and reflecting, or what he refers to as “zooming out.” McGregor also frequently enjoys exploring new parts of the world and references a recent trip to Pakistan and Iran. “I was able to just be a cultural tourist, which was very refreshing,” he says. “When you see the intelligence, the rigor and the beauty of a place that you’ve never seen before, and you start to understand that culture better, that of course also feeds itself into your work.” With extensive interests and a deep curiosity, McGregor has lots to say, but frequently, the conversation returns to just that—his work. “I’ve only ever really had one job and that was in the rug department at Debenhams as a teenager,” he explains. “For me, my work now doesn’t feel like work—it’s just living.” *

↑ McGregor became Resident Choreographer at the Royal Ballet in 2006, the first person to hold the post in 16 years—and the first from the world of contemporary dance.

WARREN HOUSE McGregor’s fascination with Modernist architecture led him to one of his most ambitious personal projects: the painstaking restoration of his Devon home, Warren House. Built in 1935 for German choreographer and Tanztheater pioneer Kurt Jooss, the house was designed by architect William Lescaze as an angular cluster of interlocking cubes complete with ballet studio and purpose-built dance floor. Now that it’s been revived after years of neglect, McGregor is keen to maintain the clarity of the space, admitting to the Wall Street Journal that the decor is “restrained; monastic even.” As he explained, “I did not want to have too much conflict with the views, the greenery that you can see. We wanted to keep it all really, really minimal.”

→ Moran’s first prop job in film was on The Good Son starring Macaulay Culkin, the 1993 psychological thriller written by English novelist Ian McEwan.

KRIS MORAN THE DARJEELING LIMITED THE MEYEROWITZ STORIES MOONRISE KINGDOM

It’s safe to say that Kris Moran holds one of the most coveted jobs in Hollywood. Aside from her notable prop work in hits such as The Cider House Rules and Good Will Hunting, Moran is known as one of the creative minds responsible for bringing the infamous “Wes Anderson” look to life in films like Moonrise Kingdom, The Royal Tenenbaums, The Darjeeling Limited and The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou. She spends her time building layers of the cinematic environments—from the handloomed carpeting to the keys in the key bowl—that make up Anderson’s beloved film aesthetic. “Filmmakers like Wes know what the movie should look like before I even come in. They’ve seen it already in their minds,” Moran says. “It’s complex because their characters are often built from people they know, or set in places they’re connected to. It’s so important to get it right.” She loves the teamwork most of all, and emphasizes how important “the freedom of trust” can be at that scale. “When someone trusts your aesthetic or work ethic, it allows you to follow your instincts and be bold in your decision-making,” Moran explains. She attributes her aesthetic choices today to her background in art. “My studies in painting taught me how important it is to consider every single element within a frame and what it means to hold responsibility for that,” the set decorator reflects. “Wes was the first director I worked with who cared so much about this—his energy for these details is ridiculous, and it’s contagious!” Moran remembers the process as magical, t he convers at i ons around the monit or i ntr ig uing.Eac h f i lm si nce has had a unique visual identity, and for Moran, it’s about diving into the mind-set of a character. “It’s empathy that I feel for the actors and all the silent inner work they’re doing to prepare right before the camera rolls that drives me,” she says. Her job lies in the details—the sm al l, everyday obj e cts that m ake up each s et, charact er and hi stor y. “Real ly, I ’mi n the service industry—a glorified waitress of sorts!” she exclaims before elaborating on her own det ermi n ati on. “I’ ml i ke a l ion who bri ngs back t he ki l l af ter a hunt, a nd I don’t stop until I am proud of my work. I will fight for what I believe in, no matter what it t akes ,” she e xpl ai ns , a ddi ng after a paus e, “andI ’ ll smi le while I’ md oing it ! ”

← Moran has worked alongside a number of notable directors—Jim Jarmusch, Barry Jenkins, Jodie Foster, Noah Baumbach and Todd Haynes, to name a few.

Moran emphasizes the importance of tuning in to the work completely. “Everything relates to the project. It’s all I see, like an eagle eye looking for clues in people on the street, in cab rides, on my way home on the subway,” she says. “I see the film’s color palette, and I notice it in places and things I never saw before.” Moran also takes inspiration from her own experiences. As a child of the ’70s, she tends to be drawn to things like brightly hued rotary telephones, colorful patterned couches and shaggy carpets. “I remember details from my childhood, and I get completely hooked on textures that are found within my memories,” she says. Moran’s mother had a keen interest in furniture and decorating—she would often strip the same set of colonial furniture and re-create it according to design trends of the time. And her father was equally talented. “My family owned a paint and wallpaper shop in New Jersey, where my dad was the king of color,” she says. “Before there were computers to read paint colors, he was able to match any sample by eye with incredible accuracy.” From those beginnings at the family store to her own art studies and her career, painting remains a theme. “I approach set decoration like making a painting in 3D,” she says. “I always considered how the eye travels across a painting. Similarly, with a set, I think about how the actors will be seen through the lens.” “Whenever I think of The Royal Tenenbaums, I just see that pink,” Moran told Hypebae. The New Jersey native was hired as assistant prop master for that film, a role not to be confused with that of on-set dresser, a distinction that she

says many mix up.

It’s not surprising that Moran takes great responsibility and care when bringing these imagined details to life. “I don’t think of myself as having a vision,” she explains. “I always feel like I’m trying to tell someone else’s truth. In life, lies are too obvious, and somehow the brain knows something isn’t quite right. If I don’t do my job well, the viewer will be taken out of the illusion that so many people have worked tremendously hard to create. The illusion will be broken, and the cinematic experience will be a bust.” And, she adds, “I can’t be responsible for that.” *

I’m like a lion who brings back the kill after a hunt.

← “I’m aware, as a black musician, that I will never be seen on par with white people that do what I do,” Hynes told Pitchfork in 2016.

DEVONTÉ HYNES BLOOD ORANGE TEST ICICLES LIGHTSPEED CHAMPION

Nearly every interview promoting Devonté Hynes’ latest Blood Orange album, Freetown Sound, has something in common: its location. Washington Square Park is more than a setting for press; it’s a place of inspiration for Hynes—and even appears on his album. Hynes incorporates sound bites that he records daily, and ambient sounds can be heard in the songs throughout. “I really like to be alone but surrounded by people,” Hynes reasons. The musician and producer likens visiting Washington Square Park to being in his own apartment or studio. “I get that same feeling,” he says. “It’s really comforting, the idea of finding mental isolation in an overflowing city.” And Hynes actively treats the park like a second home. “I’ll go to write, come up with melodies, production and video ideas,” he says. “I work there, and I read there.” “I think part of it is that I never really had that kind of space growing up,” he continues. The child of a Guyanese mother and a Sierra Leonean father who immigrated to England, Hynes was raised in Essex, East London. “I obviously feel English,” he says. “But I spent my 20s in New York, so it’s almost like I came of age here. Now my memories of England are basically just that: memories.” Hynes feels “indebted to” New York, and his love for the city, flaws and all, is palpable. His relationship with the Big Apple extends over a decade. “When I first moved to New York, I lived in Williamsburg. Comparatively, now, it feels like a completely different place, and that’s happened in a relatively short period of time,” he reflects. But he discusses those changes cautiously: “I can’t work out if things are really changing or if I’m just older. It’s easy to point fingers, but maybe it’s just that I’m not in my 20s anymore.”

→ Hynes has synesthesia, a neurological condition that causes the senses to blur. He told NPR that the sound at the top of the Empire State Building registers as a G-ninth and appears “slightly green” with “shades of gray.”

It’s really comforting, the idea of finding mental isolation in an overflowing city. Hynes is a self-described “full-on tourist” and still visits what he calls “the classics”— the Met, Central Park, Carnegie Hall and the Empire State Building, to name a few—with regularity. Recently, he began exploring other cities, too. In 2017, he participated in an artist-in- residence program at Numeroventi in Florence, which resulted in a piece titled Suite Per il Servo Moro, featuring cello, piano, horns and synth. “People make fun of me for it, but I’m really in love with Florence,” he says. “I can see myself spending a lot of time there.” He has also been traveling and working in Copenhagen, Los Angeles, Osaka and Tokyo. “I wouldn’t say that I’m running away from New York,” he explains. “I’m just not being here. That’s kind of new for me, and it’s really enjoyable.” Hynes claims that he doesn’t have rituals—“I’m too frantic to ever stick to one,” he clarifies—but back in New York, he visits bookstores like The Strand and McNally Jackson at least four times per week. “For the first five years of living here, I was buying obsessively, but I had to slow down. Now I tend to browse more and pick the things that really speak to me.” He reads fervently, and always multiple books at once. It is hard for him to name favorites, but he starts on his current reading list: Reckless Daughter: A Portrait of Joni Mitchell, Tennessee Williams’ Moise and the World of Reason, Susan Sontag:

The Complete Rolling Stone Interview and The Paris Review’s collection of interviews. “I treat books almost like music. At different times, or in different moods, I need different things,” he says. When Marlon James’ A Brief History of Seven Killings was published, for example, Hynes immediately started reading. “But it’s so dense that I had to give it a break. I was in Jamaica recording recently and fell back in the mood.” Hynes also watches “a disgusting amount of TV” and cites film as a major influence. “But I watch a lot of trash, too. My taste has no bounds,” he laughs.

↑ Hynes has long found refuge in independent bookstores. McNally Jackson, a personal favorite of his, introduced an on-demand printing press in 2011 capable of producing fully bound books in minutes.

Hynes’ influences shine through in his work. Ashlee Haze’s poem For Colored Girls (The Missy Elliott Poem), an interview with writer Ta-Nehisi Coates and vocals from Malcolm McLaren are among the samples that appear under his Blood Orange moniker. He looks to a multitude of people, both inside the music industry and out, for inspiration. His list includes Alice Coltrane, Joan Didion, Joni Mitchell and Janet Mock, all of whom he admires for how they are “creating and moving through the world.” He stops short after naming a few more “because a lot of the people that I look up to aren’t necessarily the nicest people—like Miles Davis. “I’m also a really big Kanye fan, which I know some people never admit,” he says. He reminisces on West’s seminal record College Dropout, which was released shortly after Hynes dropped out of school and took a janitor job at the British department store Marks & Spencer. “I would listen to it while I was working,” he remembers. “It really stuck with me, and even now, going through the years, it’s still inspirational.”

I’m very aware that the main channel people understand me through is music.

As an artist at Numero-venti’s residence program in Florence, Hynes stayed at the Palazzo Galli Tassi. The 16th-century palace near Santa Croce Square in the heart of Tuscany’s capital dates back to 1510.

Meeting Solange Knowles, he says, is another standout moment in his career. “She was the first person who really put trust in me musically,” he admits. “She set the course to help me become myself a bit more.” Hynes helped to both produce and write for Solange’s debut EP, True, and was a featured artist on A Seat at the Table. He has worked as a writer or producer, sometimes both, for a slew of other celebrated artists, including Carly Rae Jepsen, FKA twigs, Sky Ferreira and Kindness. He scored Gia Coppola’s film Palo Alto, contributed to David Byrne’s solo album American Utopia and in 2018 performed alongside Philip Glass at The Kennedy Center. Despite working with some of today’s most acclaimed cultural icons, he remains humble. Hynes enjoys the sense of community he has created at his Chinatown studio—“I like people to pass by, and I’ve always said that anyone can pass through.” A composer, producer and singer, Hynes has a diverse set of musical talents, and it is evident that he is multifaceted as an artist more generally. He has written short stories, has drawn comics and is an amateur photographer. A Fujifilm point and shoot, Contax G2 and Yashica medium format are his cameras of choice, and he develops an average of seven rolls of film every two weeks. Though his images frequently appear on his Instagram account, no formal exhibitions are in the works. “One thing that can be a detriment to myself is that I grew up a huge fanboy of certain people and things,” he explains. “People of course have multiple channels, and nowadays that’s more natural, but I’m very aware that the main channel people understand me through is music. If I presented my photos, I would be a musician presenting photos, and that just cringes me out.” Regardless, Hynes continues to leave his footprint on the world of music and beyond.*

→ Plug and Engelberts met at a launch party wearing the same two-year-old pair of black and red-green iridescent Nike Air Tuned Max sneakers from 1999. The colorway, as described by Nike, was “Dark Charcoal/Celery-Saturn Red” and originally designed by Tinker Hatfield.

LERNERT ENGELBERTS & SANDER PLUG STUDIO LERNERT & SANDER

→ As filmmakers, writers, graphic designers and visual artists for over a decade, the duo still struggle to explain it all to their parents.“We avoid it like we avoid politics,” they told Adobe’s 99U.

← In 2012, the duo blended over 1,400 perfumes launched that year, creating a one-of-a-kind aroma that was sold by Colette in Paris.

It’s an inevitable question for any creative partnership, and certainly one for the Dutch duo of Lernert Engelberts and Sander Plug: Do you argue? “No,” Plug says; “Yes,” interrupts Engelberts. But the response goes nearly unnoticed, and without missing a beat, they move on. After all, this is a professional relationship that has lasted over a decade, producing a wealth of influential work that speaks not of discord but to a precise and unified vision. The two not only look extremely similar, they also speak using “we” in almost all circumstances. Known mostly for film work, the Lernert & Sander style is pop-art bright, witty as anything, and distinctly irreverent. They exist somewhere between commerce and art, finding unconditional acceptance in neither—seen by the advertising world as too arty, and by artists as “commercial whores.” Do they care? Not a chance. Within the duo’s portfolio are a number of divisive projects. Their first project together, a film for Dutch KRO television in 2007, saw them sadistically melt chocolate Easter bunnies in three ways; children were brought to tears and parents complained. For ELLE magazine, they designed a style award that consisted of a “14karat-gold version of the annoying plastic price tag, which plagues even the most luxury clothing,” as they explain it. The result? “The smallest award ever.”

If we make a mood board it only contains the things that we’ve made, never things that other people made. “I think we are deliberately trying to position ourselves in that gray area,” Plug says, describing their place between commercial and art worlds. “That area is becoming bigger and bigger.” The Dutch are, as a nation, skilled at dry mockery that doesn’t feel punkish or petty but somehow progressive. Think of the genre-redefining BUTT magazine, which Engelberts and Plug both contributed to, produced by eventual Fantastic Man founders Jop van Bennekom and Gert Jonkers; or of the creative agency KesselsKramer, which famously branded a client’s hotel as “The Worst Hotel in the World.”

Lernert & Sander easily fit into this tradition, whether they’re creating an art project where the duo are photographed in clothing they found in gay club darkrooms, or a handbag for Kiki Niesten in Amsterdam called Bag Bag, meant to evoke “those little bags that inevitably appear below the eyes of every fashionista.” Any overt referencing is limited. In fact, it’s very limited: They use just themselves. Outside inspiration? “Never!” Plug says. “If we make a mood board, it only contains the things that we’ve made, never things that other people made.” They say they are not ones to spend hours riffling through monographs, or submerging themselves in archives. When they get a brief, they print it out, sit down, read it and think. If nothing comes to mind immediately, they’ll take a walk and talk it over.

We trust our work is not about style but about communication—that whole style is just a way for the idea to flourish.

Where many creative agencies often use a collage of outside work during the pitch process to a client, Engelberts and Plug refuse. “We try to avoid showing clients endless pages of what other people have done,” Plug explains, “because then you are

locked in. We’d rather lock them into something that we’ve hand-sketched of how we’d like to do it, because you know that meeting will be so important for the rest of the project, so you’d better visualize it yourself.” Many in the industry have followed them, sometimes a little too closely. “We’ve done a whole lecture about copycats,” Engelberts says. “But we trust our work is not about style but about communication—that style is just a way for the idea to flourish. We are not afraid everyone who copies us will have the same wit or communication power. It’s more than finding the right colors to paint a set.” He goes on, “We’re always aware of the problem, and we always try to solve [the client’s] problem . . . we don’t just try and make something quirky.” That doesn’t mean they’re not fans, too—they admire John Waters, RuPaul and Miranda July, to name a few. However, they’re less interested in the final product than the thought process or personality behind it. For their own work, Engelberts and Plug say it’s the client who drives the process. “A great client is a great inspiration,” says Engelberts, “and sometimes your biggest headache.” The pair met at a launch party for Jop van Bennekom’s Re- magazine, both wearing the same peculiar style of Nike sneakers. Upon discovering they shared a sense of humor, Engelberts—then a writer and filmmaker with Dutch national television—asked Plug to join a team working on a drama series, as art director. Plug had worked in industrial design, then in graphic design, then as an art director for an agency, and finally as a post-graduate student in art, which “gave me permission to also call myself a visual artist,” he says. The two quickly decided to venture off on their own, with “Chocolate Bunny”—and the rest, as they say, is history. They say that some artists stick their nose up at the pair having a web shop, where advertising is often confused by high concept. Despite their adventurous and often avant-garde work, they think that “new stuff is really vulgar.” “There are enough old chairs, old shoes,” they say. “We can sit on those, wear those for the rest of our lives.”*

The duo contributed to BUTT magazine, and Engelberts also modeled for the publication. When the magazine planned a photo shoot mocking David Beckham’s suggestive Arena Homme+ appearance and the model canceled, Engelberts stepped in.

↑ Engelberts says that if there were a radio show about him, they’d called it the “Sour Hour.” Plug, he says, is more of a natural optimist.

← In her 2017–2018 program for the Paris Opera Ballet, Dupont included Balanchine’s Jewels and Rudolf Nureyev’s Don Quixote alongside more modern classics like Pina Bausch’s The Rite of Spring.

AURÉLIE DUPONT PARIS OPERA BALLET

What would you do if you knew your career had to end? Aurélie Dupont retired from the Paris Opera Ballet, where she spent her entire career, at 42 years old, in compliance with the institution’s imposed cutoff for dancers. Her farewell performance was Kenneth MacMillan’s Manon, in May 2015. “We know it, right from the beginning,” Dupont admits when discussing retirement age. “We are supposed to be ready. Except that time passes by so fast.” She’s seated in her office, which features a large round window looking north over Paris. “At 17, you think that 42-year-olds are old. At 27, you say to yourself, ‘There is still time.’ At 35, ‘Oh, 40 is next.’ At 37,” the ballerina says, “I began to think seriously about my next steps.” Dupont says she’s in no pain that might prevent her from continuing to dance. “I told myself that 42 is not old,” she explains. “It’s just that my face is more marked by time.” (She’s exaggerating, of course. The icon was featured in an ad campaign for Fre nch ha ndbag designer Jér ôm e Dreyfus s at 43, and r em ains “as s tyl ized and sharpl y edged as an art-deco statue,” according to The New Yorker.) Ultimately, Dupont rem a ined Zen abo ut t he ear l y ret i r ement rule, and celebrated t he fact t h at i t spar ks generational turnover. “It opens up another contract,” she notes. “Otherwise, I’d deprive a young person from starting their career.” She smiles, wryly. “And there are dancers we are very happy to see go, to know that they will not continue.”

Dupont, however, is not one of them. She’s a Chevalier de l’Ordre des Arts et des Lettres, and a member of the Ordre National du Mérite. The French edition of Vanity Fair christened her number three on its 2016 “Most Influential French Person in the

World” list (alongside pâtissier Pierre Hermé and the singer from Christine & the Queens; Emmanuel Macron, before becoming president, was listed at number six). The dancer has also been the subject of films, including documentaries by Frederick Wiseman (La Danse) and Cédric Klapisch (L’espace d’un instant). Yet up until this point, her life has been contained within the opulent 350-year-old Parisian building designed by Charles Garnier —both in its studio and under its spotlights. In 1983, at age 10, Dupont entered the Paris Opera Ballet School. She joined the company in 1989, became a première danseuse in 1996 and was promoted to star dancer—une étoile—in 1998, after her performance as Kitri in Rudolf Nureyev’s production of Don Quixote. All told, Dupont has called the Paris Opera home for over three decades, cementing an exceptional legacy. She was raised with an appreciation of music and painting—though her parents were not in creative fields. Dupont says she rarely spoke, and felt deeply uncomfortable around others, until she discovered dance at age nine. “Dancing was my way of expressing myself. I really needed it to feel comfortable,” she emphasizes in a hushed tone. The strength of her interior monologue powered her motivation and discipline: “If I do not work on myself, on my instrument de travail, which is my body, nothing will happen,” she explains. Furthermore, the creative gambles of the milieu thrilled her. “I really wanted to put myself at risk. When one is creative, one necessarily puts oneself in danger,” she says, citing artists—now pillars of the form— who took this approach. “I’m thinking of Stravinsky, or Pina Bausch. During their time, they were considered too creative, too visionary, but today they are classics. Creativity is necessary to grow, to discover oneself as an artist, to keep the imagination alive.” In 2016, Dupont was appointed the director of dance for the Paris Opera Ballet, an altogether different kind of risk. Behind her desk, at her back, is a bulletin board of meaningful totems: a note from theater director Bob Wilson, an image of a Bernard Buffet painting, messages from children (her own two sons, and admiring young strangers), a picture of Pina Bausch. Was she conflicted about accepting the position? “One can say always ‘yes’ and afterward ‘I don’t like this’—but one cannot say ‘no.’ It would be a mistake,” she shrugs. “Risks have to be taken all the time, in art. Otherwise, it’s boring.”

Creativity is about prompting a disruption, in yourself, and in turn for those on the receiving end of your performance. SIR KENNETH MACMILLAN The British ballet dancer and choreographer served as the artistic director of the Royal Ballet in London between 1970 and 1977. He was knighted in 1983 and received many honorary degrees over a long career, despite suffering stage fright as a dancer and a tumultuous run as artistic director while in Berlin. In 2015, Aurélie Dupont performed in MacMillan’s Manon as her farewell performance at Paris’ Palais Garnier. MacMillan based the three-act ballet on an 18thcentury French novel by Abbé Prévost.

Her first requirement, she asserted, was “to be visionary—where am I going to take the company in a year, two years, three years?” Another key imperative: “to keep the classical ballet heritage and, at the same time, maintain an openness to contemporary dance.” Further, she expected herself “to be demanding, to listen to and empathize with people, to respect the new generation—to not just do what I did at their age, because lives are different and the expectations are, too.” Dupont is one of the few women directing a ballet company (although the Paris Opera was previously helmed by Brigitte Lefèvre for almost 20 years). Dupont directly succeeded acclaimed choreographer Benjamin Millepied, whose tenure lasted under two years—allegedly due to the rigidity of the institution. He is, in fact, her dear friend. She danced in his Amoveo in 2006, Daphnis et Chloé in 2014 and Together Alone in 2015. “He provided codes, but he had enough confidence in me, in my desire to inhabit his steps, to trust my vision,” she says. “After he’d impart the necessary information, he’d say to me, ‘You do what you want.’ It’s a very enjoyable type of liberty.” Other choreographers often offer narrower, more mastered leeway. “Creativity is an image in their head, and they use your body like clay, to make it move the way they want,” she remarks. “It’s like a text that you have to learn by heart.” Since retiring, Dupont has been able to approach dance with a more fluid slant. (“What I discovered after I retired was freedom,” she told The New Yorker.) She collaborated with the Martha Graham company, reviving techniques she hadn’t practiced since adolescence, and performed Sleeping Water, a 70-minute work by Japanese choreographer Saburô Teshigawara, with members of his company, as a guest artist. “Saburô encourages you to go beyond yourself,” she says.† “He allowed me to discover improvisation. One must be emptied of everything, and not have the

brain controlling the body.” In turn, Teshigawara said of her: “She is a great dancer and very intelligent. Intellectual, but also physically intelligent.” Dupont wrestles with this fundamental binary. “There is creativity that is analytically reflected upon, that is worked on, and then there is creativity that’s close to that of a child, which is very spontaneous.” Ultimately, she reaches for both.

In 2016, Martha Graham Dance Company marked its 90th anniversary with a special gala program. Dupont performed excerpts of two Graham works, Lament and Appalachian Spring. Earlier in life, while training at the Paris Opera Ballet School, she briefly studied the Graham technique.

Beyond her director position, she also took on an acting role (playing a French choreographer) in a narrative film by Swedish choreographer, dancer and director Pontus Lidberg. “I’m not Charlize Theron, but I wanted to see what it was,” she says, “to accentuate the palette of your personality for a role.” She has stretched in this manner before, when she had trouble relating to the titular comatose princess in an adaptation of Sleeping Beauty. “There are roles for you, and there are roles that are not for you at all, but you still have to dance and act,” she says. “You have to find that.” She enjoyed being given directions from behind the camera, to provoke various takes on the same lines. “You’re constantly renewing yourself and seeking new things,” she explains. “In dance, there is no cheating—it’s very direct.” Eventually Dupont says she wants to develop a documentary about dance in its many forms, and is eager to pursue a wholly personal project. She’s already crafted the storyline, but put the project on hold for her day job. “When we create, we wonder how the other will perceive the creation,” she admits. Dupont is always acutely aware of others’ gazes due to the performative nature of her métier. “Creativity is about prompting a disruption, in yourself, and in turn for those on the receiving end of your performance,” she says. Despite the intense pressure this requires, it also provides a transcendent boldness. As Dupont says, “With dance, once it’s done, you can’t go back.” *

With dance, once it’s done, you can’t go back.

→ Constant communication is imperative for Tourso and Beyoncé. The musician sends him anything that inspires her, from YouTube videos to photographs.

TODD TOURSO BEYONCÉ FLAUNT LADY GAGA

Asked about his wildly diverse career, Todd Tourso—creative director for Beyoncé Knowles—reaches for the psychological, philosophical, even spiritual. “To me, being a good creative director is trying to help an artist or brand speak to a greater truth,” he says. “Acting without ego. Trying to nod to the human condition in a way that is authentic to their story or legacy.” This is not, perhaps, what you’d expect from someone whose primary mission is to help the world’s most celebrated pop star orchestrate music videos, album rollouts and photo campaigns. And yet hearing him tackle the really big questions, you come to understand that these ambitious metaphysical appetites are probably why he’s the right choice for the job. “I’m obsessed with things bigger than human existence,” he says, noting, in part, his boss’ global appeal. “I’m trying to find some kind of calm and powerful truth that resounds with everybody.” Tourso has explored those sublime realms as Beyoncé’s creative director during two of the most resonant and ambitious moments in her career: her 2013 self-titled, surprise- released visual album about love, intimacy and sensuality; and Lemonade, her 2016 record-cum-film project that tackled civil rights, marital strife and romantic redemption. Each was kept shrouded in absolute secrecy until its release. His role seems to come down to this: Beyoncé has some appropriately Beyoncé-sized idea about a project, and Tourso helps her make it happen, no matter how improbable, scouting for the locations, directors, editors, camera angles, anything that will make her dream a well-executed reality.† He is, suffice to say, good under pressure.

PHARRELL CAN’T SKATE While studying at the ArtCenter College of Design in Pasadena, a private institution founded in 1930, Tourso started a small streetwear brand called Plain Gravy. The company’s infamous PHARRELL CAN’T SKATE T-shirt sold out at the iconic Paris shop Colette and eventually caught the attention of Pharrell himself. It was the musician who ultimately arranged Tourso’s meeting with Beyoncé in 2013.

“Staying calm is a key characteristic,” he says. “In some ways, you have to be a ps ychologi st , because a l ot of ti m es we’ r e put ting peop l e out side of t heir com f ort zone. You need to be talking them through and convincing them that everything’s okay—

even if it’s not!” And who is talking to Tourso? “I try to exercise, and I try to meditate,” he says. “It’s been my life’s work getting my energy right.” It has also been, simply, creativity. “All I wanted to do was skateboard and write graffiti,” he says of growing up in California. “I didn’t have a job. I didn’t have the ambition of a career. I didn’t have a cell phone or a computer.” He got into graphic design and made it to ArtCenter College of Design in Pasadena, before dropping out after three years for a job at Warner Brothers Records. “I hated it. They hadn’t really embraced digital yet, and they were just losing money hand over fist,” he remembers. “It was a very sobering experience on what the real world was like.” Tourso then moved to magazines, snagging a job at Flaunt. “That was the first time I had a creative design job where I felt like I hit the rhythm,” he says. “Again, though, I’m late to the party: It was the recession, and magazines were folding left and right. We’re making concessions to advertisers and everyone’s talking about how they were balling in the ’90s.” Finally, he made his way to working as a creative director for Lady Gaga and, eventually, Beyoncé. “It really makes me feel great to put it in that perspective and feel like I’m actually in the right place.”

Tourso and Beyoncé wanted to address the Black Lives Matter movement in her Lemonade video. “We actually flew the moms out to New Orleans,” Tourso explains. “We had a stylist put them in couture clothing, and then had them sit there and hold photos of their sons when they were young, happy, and beautiful.”

Above all, Tourso says he doesn’t have a routine because he just can’t have one. “It’s a lot of bouncing around,” he says. “If I’m going to go sit with an editor for the day or I have to be on set and working with the DP, or if I have to go to a recording studio and get an artist to approve something—it’s wrangling all of these disparate

pieces and making some type of cohesion or semblance out of it. You have to really work to get everyone to play nice.” And prepare for the unexpected. For instance, Tourso never directed before Beyoncé—he helmed music videos for “7/11” and “Heaven”—and it was the artistic equivalent of going from 0 to 200 mph. Indeed, when he talks about his work, he can sound like Evel Knievel pulling a motorcycle stunt. “I’ve never had any moment in my career where the excitement was that easy to distinguish from the fear,” he says. Tourso believes that he has to be versatile, largely because he works with the visions of others. “You’re really only a mirror for what your subject is at the moment, and your goal is to dust away all the bullshit and put a magnifying glass on what makes them special,” he says. “It has nothing to do with you. I have to remember that what we’re doing is a lot easier for me than it is for the artist. The artists are the ones who ha ve i t i n t hei r cat alog for et ernity. They’re paying f or i t ou t of their own pocket . Their legacy is at stake. I will never understand that risk.” He says coaching somebody through that feeling and letting them know that you’re not going to push them too far is a big part of what he does.

→ Tourso says art school taught him the importance of process, critique and collaboration. He applies these concepts to everything from editing a video to making clothing.

Sometimes, he l ook s to fundamen t al experienc es t o m ake t hat connect i on: Beyoncé’s a woman making feminist art that expresses and comments on a woman’s point of view; Tourso is a man. And yet: “I was an only child raised by a single mom.

I was always surrounded by women,” he says. “I think when you’re around people, you internalize their struggle a bit whether or not you want to, and I think at that point you’re not in it, but you’re not exactly outside of it.” He says we all have an ability to tap into each other’s perspective. In his work, Tourso has had to address and navigate sensitive political topics as well, particularly on the Lemonade film, which featured the mothers of black men slain by police officers, holding photos of their sons. “It’s about taking real struggles and not using them in an exploitive way for content. Directors need to be so precious with this material,” he says, noting how his team flew the mothers to New Orleans for the stylized commentary. “The answer is to connect with the humanity beneath these situations and not use them for shock value.”

Ironically, as I get older I actually think the border between myself and my 14-year-old self is getting thinner. In “Lemon,” for example, a recent music video that he made for Pharrell’s band N*E*R*D* (a project that he has also been creative directing), he had Rihanna, the song’s guest vocalist, shave a dancer’s head. He says it’s about “refusing all these ideas and feelings that they put on you as a girl, preparing the warrior for this journey,” adding that the journey is “not for the purpose of a man.” If Tourso has any worry, it’s that his finger will somehow slide off the pulse as he gets closer to 40. “And it’s not just having your finger on the pulse but being one step ahead,” he says. “Ironically, as I get older I actually think the border between myself and my 14-year-old self is getting thinner. If something is cool with 13-year-olds and I don’t get it, I have to obsess on it until I understand.” He continues, “And I don’t mean it has to become my thing, I just have to understand why people like it.” Tourso says the truth is that it usually comes down to the same reasons when he was young. “To me these core feelings that we’re trying to tap into do not change by generation. Humans are still dealing with basically the same issues,” he says. “It could be love, it could be betrayal, it could be boredom, it could be emptiness, it could be happiness, it could be confusion. It’s just the great philosophical struggles that humans have always had.” *

→ Tourso has earned a handful of awards, including an MTV Video Music Award and a Peabody as coexecutive producer for Beyoncé’s Lemonade and two BET awards for co-directing her “7/11” music video.

↑ Tourso says the principles of graphic design—“scale, contrast, minimalism”—are his bedrock, whether he’s directing videos, magazine layouts or fashion shoots.

← Tourso worked with Lady Gaga from 2009 to 2013 and contributed to some of the most iconic visuals during her Fame Monster and Born This Way eras.

← In 2008, San Francisco mayor Gavin Newsom presented the Mayor’s Art Award to King, calling him a “San Francisco treasure.”

ALONZO KING

LINES BALLET

← King collaborated with Grammy Award–winning musician Zakir Hussain to premiere a new work for the 35th anniversary of LINES Ballet in 2018. The two have worked together for over 20 years.

For choreographer and artistic director Alonzo King, dance is more than a discipline: it’s a letting go. It’s the search for an answer, a confession instead of a performance. King’s LINES Ballet company, which he co-founded in San Francisco in 1982, is a

synthesis of classical ballet performed on pointe with modern abstraction, world dance and scorching expression. Yet he describes his work—which has become part of film, television, opera and dozens of international repertoires—as “thought structures.” King’s training might be rooted in classical ballet, but the diversity of movement, music and inspiration in his work is radical. His ballets are choreographed to tabla, field recordings of Sephardic music, traditional gypsy songs, gospel and spirituals. They are danced to ancient Persian instruments or a mezzo-soprano standing on stage, to Coltrane and Shostakovich, Indian folk and a cappella pygmy music. Some critics see King as pulling Eurocentric ballet out of its parochial, homogeneous elitism—and increasing irrelevance—and into the real world.

My father was ready to die for what he believed in. Born in the mid ’50s in Albany, Georgia, King found a similar struggle. His father, Slater King (whose father had founded the city’s NAACP chapter), was an activist, pioneering low-income and elderly housing while leading boycotts and enduring jail time. The family lived at the epicenter of the nonviolent desegregationist Albany Movement in 1961. His mother, Valencia King Nelson, who later founded AfricanAmerican genealogical research community AfriGeneas, had studied dance and dance interpretation. The couple’s home became not just an activist hot spot but a cultural salon where Alonzo and his six siblings were exposed to guests from diverse cultures across music, dance, art, theater and performance. Slater, a follower of Rama Krishna, also kept a meditation room in the house where he would send his children to meditate for three minutes at a time, starting from a very early age. King’s parents lived what they believed, instilling in their children a real sense of integrity, humility, courage and vulnerability—the same qualities the choreographer seeks today. “My father was ready to die for what he believed in,” King recalls. “When you’re around a community of those people, what they want to do and what they should do are completely aligned. There is no division between what they say and what they do.” To King, such people are both inspiring and intimidating, and he applies that same intersection of self-examination and total commitment in the world of dance.

↑ Award-winning choreographer William Forsythe lauded King as “one of the true Ballet Masters of our times.”

You’re not imitating, cloning or knocking something off. You have to step into the embodiment of an idea.

“When you see that commitment, when a person stands in that conviction, it’s not just on the day that they march,” he says. “It’s in the way they live their lives every day. And when those are your parents, they become an example of how to live in the world, of what self-examination looks like, what commitment and partnership look like.” He says dancing also requires you to be both in the moment and selfless.

“You’re not imitating, cloning or knocking something off,” he says. “You have to step into the embodiment of an idea. As an artist, you’re giving your life to something, for something, and the larger community, the larger self, becomes the priority.” One of t he mos t t r ansfor mat i v e experiences i n Ki ng’s l i f e was his introduct ion t o yoga by way of his father. “It means unity,” he explains, noting how its practice mirrors that of dance. In fact, yoga’s tendency to look beyond form and gender may have its analog in King’s unconventional use of gender. The director has been known to incorporate movement passages for two dancers, or pas de deux, between two men, and to create variations that privilege character over biology in his choreography. King studied ballet as a child, moving to New York in his teens to train and perform at the Harkness School of Ballet, with the companies of Donald McKayle and Lucas Hoving, at the Alvin Ailey Dance School, and, later, at the American Ballet Theater School. Like his parents and grandparents, King attended Fisk University, but he left after a year, moving to Los Angeles to work with modern dancer Bella Lewitzky. He says Lewitzky had an integrity and honesty that rang true for him. While most people saw ballet as Eurocentric—or “taught ballet like it was a secret,” he says—King identified myriad other cultural influences such as the geometries it borrowed from the Middle East. Where others saw ballet as a style, King understood it as a language, capable of absorbing other languages, and assuming limitless expressive potential. Early on, inspiration often came in dreams. Today, he says a ballet must generate authenticity. King asks himself: Does this have conviction? Is this real? Is this accurate? He once described attending Mass as an altar boy and watching the older members of the congregation. “Observing that mental state was powerful. It was private, it was centered, it was interior—and it was beautiful,” he remembers. “When you observe anyone really believing in something, it’s a powerful thing to see.” King wants his dancers to dance with truth but also with feeling and intuition, which have intelligence instead of emotion, which can get in the way. “The most important thing to a dancer is how to communicate an idea clearly, whatever it takes,” he says. “We sometimes forget that the idea comes first, and techniques are employed to bring the idea to life.” King believes that each human is a tiny microcosm—“a collection of whirling forces in super motion,” he says—containing all the properties and potential of the universe. “Externally, the body inhabits a small space,” he says. “Internally, it is a vast infinity.” * In 2017, King partnered with poetry slam pioneer and language expert Bob Holman to craft Figures of Speech, a ballet based on the concept of dying languages.

As an artist, you’re giving your life to something.

← King says he’d like to see politicians dancing in 2018. “I’d like to see the world practicing art,” he told Dance Magazine, “because the introspection from true art practice can’t lie.”

→ Dercon first established his reputation as a program director at MoMA PS1 in the 1980s.

CHRIS DERCON VOLKSBÜHNE THEATRE TATE MODERN MOMA PS1 HAUS DER KUNST

Creativity cannot be born in a vacuum, as the career of Belgian art historian Chris Dercon attests. His curation and artistic direction at major institutions, including New York’s PS1, the Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen in Rotterdam, Munich’s Haus der Kunst, London’s Tate Modern and the revered Volksbühne theater in Berlin, have been marked by dynamic collaborations and partnerships. In fact, throughout his expansive career, he has spoken highly of his interactions with luminaries such as Belgian art collector Herman Daled; his former boss, Tate director Nicholas Serota; Dutch architect Rem Koolhaas; Belgian fashion designer Martin Margiela, whose conceptual clothing challenges convention; dissident Chinese artist Ai Wei Wei; and the progressive German author and philosopher Alexander Kluge, whose words—“Utopia gets better and better while we’re waiting for it”—continue to strike a chord. Dercon, who was born in the quiet town of Lier, near Antwerp, in 1958, first showed significant interest in the arts—particularly performance art—during his teens, which led him to study art history, film and theater at the University of Leiden in the Netherlands. There he became infatuated with avant-garde theater and dance, and he went on to develop programs for Belgian radio and television, while also penning articles on genre-defying artists such as Karole Armitage, John Cage and Merce Cunningham.

Dercon’s motto, taken from a production note he received in 1981: “Once the order has been found, everything can be changed around.”

Initially, however, he longed to become an artist or performer himself. “There is nothing more exciting than a rock concert,” he enthuses. “But I quickly figured out that I was not good enough,” he recalls, “so I became a producer and a curator instead.” By 1990, he had co-founded the Witte de With Center of Contemporary Art in Rotterdam. Between performative media and inert art history, Dercon began to immerse himself in a middle ground: fashion. He even taught courses on the sociology of fashion, in addition to architecture and graphic design, at the Modeakademie in Arnhem. From 1996 through 2003, he served as director of the Museum Boijmans van Beuningen in Rot t erdam, cur at ing sever al f ashion exhibitions, i ncl ud i ng one on M a i s on Mar tin Margiela and the exuberant Walter van Beirendonck and, in 1998, directing a radio show about feminism and fashion in Japan. During his tenure, the museum began to acquire a serious fashion collection. Dercon would focus on how history was still alive and performing. He blended garments into the department of “modern masters,” incorporating, for example, carefully selected Prada or Margiela pieces into rooms featuring Hieronymus Bosch or iconic works of Surrealism. “Today, I am good at getting my team to think big—that is, to draw broad lines that they are invited to fill in with more specific ideas, projects or names. But I failed at the Museum Boijmans van Beuningen because I wanted to make all the decisions myself,” he says. Dercon had to learn to manage a team, to take responsibility, to listen, without controlling. “I’ve become a moderator, or in French, un passeur,” he reveals of his outlook, “passing ideas from one to another or connecting different ideas, making choices. This is incredibly creative. And over the years, I’ve become a better and better listener.”

In 2003, Dercon moved into the directorship of the Haus der Kunst in Munich, where he championed the development of live arts through collaborations with artists like Kluge, Patti Smith, Allan Kaprow and Apitchatpong Weerasethakul. Over seven years, he regained his proximity to theater through projects like Into the Night With . . . , a documentary television series. Shortly after, in 2011, he became the artistic director of the Tate Modern and presented commercially successful, live and digital exhibitions by performers ranging from Charles Atlas, Rabih Mroué and Andrea Fraser to Anna Teresa De Keersmaeker, Sung Hwan Kim and Kraftwerk. He functioned like an editor in chief, producer and fundraiser at the time, overseeing a massive architectural addition to the museum.

→ As the former director of London’s Tate Modern, Dercon says the museum is truly a city within a city.

← As a teenager, Dercon bought art with wages earned from a summer job at an onion factory.

Today, no matter where he is, he likes to wake up at 5 a.m. to read the news and research (when at home on the outskirts of Berlin, from late spring to early autumn, he also swims in a nearby lake). Travel remains a pivotal part of his life, and he’s learned to appreciate every journey. “Rem Koolhaas taught me to hang around at airports in press shops,” he says. “Browsing through these materials, you get a good feel for where the world is going.” But, “first and foremost, I travel in my head and in my kitchen. Cooking is a true travel experience, and so is collecting textiles from all over the world,” he says. “Weaving—the weft and warp—is about connecting things.”

B erlin’s legenda ry Volksbühne the atre opened o of promoting naturalist plays at prices accessible to the common worker. The building was heavily damaged after World War II and rebuilt from 1950 to 1954 according to the design of architect Hans Richter.

This notion of connecting disparate ideas and disciplines is precisely what motivated him during his short and somewhat spiky reign as the artistic director of Europe’s radical Volksbühne theatre.† “We wanted to achieve a living fabric, which can be stepped on, enjoyed by many different audiences in many different spatial and temporal environments, a kind of ‘total theater’ like the one [architect] Walter Gropius designed for [director] Erwin Piscator, and a new form of assembly, in order to find out how we could build or rebuild the idea of community.” Though he stepped down from the position in April 2018, he relished being able to work with living dancers and actors again, instead of “hanging dead objects on the walls” of a gallery—which, he admits, are two very different propositions. “Humans are both fragile and strong, strong-willed. In that sense, it is easier to run a museum

than a theater, but as much as I like art and art objects, I love to work with people. And I am especially interested in things I do not yet know,” he says. “My slogan could be: I always find that for which I am not looking. So, I’m learning every day.”*

← Matsoukas was born in 1981 and grew up in the Bronx before moving to Hackensack, New Jersey, when she was eight years old.

MELINA MATSOUKAS INSECURE BEYONCÉ: FORMATION RIHANNA: WE FOUND LOVE MASTER OF NONE

Director Melina Matsoukas often handles precious emotional cargo in her music videos and television work: a druggy, chaotic relationship in Rihanna’s “We Found Love”; police brutality and black power in Beyoncé’s groundbreaking “Formation”; the true story of a young woman coming out in an episode of Aziz Ansari’s Master of None. “That was the first time we’d seen a black lesbian come out on-screen— period,” she says of the episode, which featured one of the show’s writers, Lena Waithe, playing herself confronting her mother, played by Angela Bassett, about her sexuality. “It definitely feels like pressure, especially when you’re creating something that hasn’t been seen before,” Matsoukas says. “I’m always asking: Does this feel true to you? Does this feel authentic? But as long as it’s rooted in reality, you’ve done your work, you’ve created something special. I don’t want it to feel like my story— I’m always working on someone else’s story.” Indeed, some of the most powerful and risk-taking women in entertainment—like Beyoncé, Rihanna and Waithe, as well as Solange and Issa Rae, whose HBO show, Insecure, is executive produced by Matsoukas—have trusted the director with their journeys. “I get to the heart of the story the more I can allow someone to open up and let themselves be vulnerable to me. It’s my job,” she says. “But I also think a lot of these women see me in themselves, and I see them in myself. There are not a lot of other women of color directing, and so I think you naturally go to who you think is part of your tribe and will understand your background and treat it with a delicacy it deserves.” In perhaps the best compliment, many of these women come back repeatedly to Matsoukas, and the bond goes beyond professional—she has, for instance, been working with Beyoncé for over 10 years. “I wasn’t friends with any of these women before I started working with them,” Matsoukas says. “It has come out of our work, and I think that’s because the work has pulled us together in this really intimate way.”

In fact, it was Beyoncé who helped Matsoukas break out, commissioning four videos from the director when she was still in her mid-20s and without a long résumé.† “She was looking for new voices. She recognizes young people and likes to give them opportunities,” Matsoukas says. Even then, the director’s work was remarkably self-assured for anyone so new to the game: controlled, intimate, with just the right amount of messy humanity to keep things raw. Matsoukas’ style is diverse, ranging from grainy DIY fuzz to floodlit bold flash, but there is always a sense of something very real—even tense—no matter how glamorous her subject. In one of those first videos, for Beyoncé’s “Green Light,” she reinvented the 1980s glitz of a Robert Palmer video but with a feminist edge. She filled the screen with a funk band made solely of women and two brassy backup dancers in black latex, who didn’t have the toned Olympian bodies that had come to be expected in that era of Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera. “It’s political in that you haven’t maybe seen two women who look like that be honored for their beauty,” she remembers. “It was changing the idea of what we saw as beautiful at the time.”

“I treat each video like a thesis project,” she told The New Yorker in 2017. The concept for Beyoncé’s “Formation” video started with Toni Morrison, Maya Angelou and Octavia Butler, a seminal bunch rooted in American letters.

Politics is absolutely central to Matsoukas’ idea of art. She grew up in and around New York City, the daughter of two socialist- leaning parents from a mixed heritage of Jamaicans, Afro-Cubans, Greeks and Polish Jews. “I was always political,” she says, noting that in the 1970s her parents were part of a progressive party with communist leanings. “I was brought up to fight for people’s freedoms,” she says, eventually turning more radical in college. “It’s always been my intention to use film

to create what I call ‘protest art,’” she says. “To have something to say while entertaining.” Matsoukas became obsessed with photography in high school but switched to film at NYU and received a graduate degree from the American Film Institute, all while reading as much as she could from black and Latinx writers and thinkers: “bell hooks, Audre Lorde, Paula Giddings, James Baldwin, Malcolm X as told through Alex Haley,” she says. “My mom works in education, and I grew up with books.” She is also a self-described “control freak,” noting that directors must have a vision for everything. “I go deep in my research and divide it into sections,” she explains. “I’ll have an arts section for what I want my interiors to feel like. I’ll have a wardrobe section. I’ll have a lighting section,” she says. “I care how a pillow is folded. I hate when things don’t feel real. I go through a set and throw shit around. People don’t live in this pristine thing where there is no dirt in the corner and no cord coming down the wall.” Matsoukas is ambitious, too: Her latest project is a television series based on Marlon James’ Man Booker Prize–winning novel A Brief History of Seven Killings, an intricate story about the attempted assassination of Bob Marley in 1976, told in varying shades of thick Jamaican patois and set across the 1970s, ’80s and ’90s. “I love a challenge,” she says simply. As with much of what she does, the urgency of getting it right is personal. As a woman with Jamaican heritage, she feels a responsibility—and passion—to do the country justice. “I love getting into different histories, especially when they are also my own. It’s a way of really knowing who you are,” she says. “America is so ignorant, and that’s where all this hate comes from. The more we have an understanding of each other, the more kindness that promotes. Maybe someone who was seen as a monster becomes your friend.” So how does one woman juggle the perfectionism, the politics, the pressure? A Buddhist practice, which Matsoukas picked up from an aunt as a child and has tried to maintain, helps, although a busy schedule makes it harder. “I have an altar and a Gohonzon. Now, sadly, I chant once or twice a month, but when I had smaller projects, I would chant every day before going to set, because the amount of stress on the director is massive,” she says. But no healthy routine can fully relieve the weight she puts on herself, one that comes from making sure she’s worthy of telling other people’s stories right. “I’m so hard on myself, I probably hate 90 percent of what I create,” she says frankly. “Some stuff I’m really proud of, but most things I never want to see again. I’m looking at every flaw.” She continues, relenting at the thought: “Yes, I’m confident in certain things I do, but I just think we can always be better.” The director says that all her hard work doesn’t always equal satisfaction. “I don’t know how to guarantee that I’ll love something,” she says. “I haven’t figured that out yet. I never feel like, oh, if I’m involved, it’s going to be great.” That’s one thing Matsoukas is actually wrong about.*

Yes, I’m confident in certain things I do, but I just think we can always be better.

INSECURE In 2013, Matsoukas started working on her first television show, an HBO series called Insecure based on comedy writer Issa Rae’s original web series Awkward Black Girl. Since its release in 2016, the series has won critical acclaim. Rae told The New Yorker she requested Matsoukas for the job but that they occasionally disagree on how to balance authenticity and glamour. “Her taste is more elevated than mine,” she told the magazine. Matsoukas also introduced Rae to Solange Knowles, Beyoncé’s sister, who served as music consultant.

← Matsoukas became the first female director to win MTV’s Best Video with Rihanna’s “We Found Love.” The video also earned her a Grammy Award for Best Short Form Music Video.

→ “There’s not one ounce of nostalgia in me,” de Betak told CNN last year. “I’m only interested in the future and I want to help it come faster.”

ALEXANDRE DE BETAK BUREAU BETAK

Alexandre de Betak is a showman, one of those masters of spectacle who pop up periodically to intuit what their fellow humans are craving—the type that speaks to the times and propels them forward. De Betak is more than a fashion show producer; he has refined the medium altogether over the course of his career, transforming the industry’s standard catwalk presentation into an extravagantly multisensory, multiplatform media event. “There is a global interest and audience for fashion shows today. Presumably, I helped make that happen by making those shows more memorable and mediagenic,” he muses. De Betak is seated in his Paris office, a snug box of a space plastered with bright white acoustic foam; behind him are piles of oversized hardcover books. He wears pale tinted glasses, and his hair is swept back. His beard is short and stubbly. “The fact that the catwalks were mediagenic made the media want to show them, and the fact that they were showing them made me want to make them more fantastic,” he says. And thus the contemporary fashion show became a pop culture phenomenon. To witness a de Betak show today is to observe fashion at its most communicative, its most interpretive, its most highly charged. When he first launched his studio in 1990, shows were simpler in-house productions run by staff or the PR team, and directed solely at media, buyers and industry bigwigs invited by the brand. A handful of the more theatrical designers in the late ’80s—Mugler, Gaultier, Alaïa—ramped up their live presentations, but the events otherwise continued as they had for the entire 20th century: as staid affairs for a prescribed room of insiders.

Today de Betak has produced more than 1,000 of his high-impact, abstractly arresting shows—for houses including Givenchy, Céline, John Galliano, Michael Kors, Lanvin, Miu Miu and Rodarte. He sent a genuine tornado whirling down the catwalk at Hussein Chalayan, crafted a giant glowing sun overhead for Jacquemus and sent John Galliano’s models striding through a sci-fi tunnel of lasers filled with fake

snow and iridescent haze. He created the first-ever webcast for Victoria’s Secret, and later mastered the art of “Instagram timing” so guests could prepare their phones for the climax. He constructed a spaceship-like dome and installed wooden Swiss chalets around it for Louis Vuitton, topping off the surreal event with a performance by Grace Jones. Though the installations are always fleeting, de Betak’s work is frequently like that of an architect, creating environments or changing the way a space is perceived. It’s perhaps most tangible in de Betak’s decade-plus partnership with Dior, where he’s executed his tropes of florals and mirrors on a grand scale—blanketing an entire tent in the courtyard of the Louvre with a mountain of blue delphinium flowers, recreating the legendary hanging gardens and, later, building crystal ice caves from a mosaic of mirrors inside the Musée Rodin. For a Dior show in Moscow, de Betak installed a warehouse-sized mirrored box in Red Square with a surface camouflaged uncannily by reflection. De Betak’s art is one of interpretation and reimagination that begins with an almost scientific study of a brand’s DNA and clothing, but after all the research, it’s his eye for the fantastic, his gut feeling about the visuals that shapes the show. “What you make of this is artistic and intuitive,” he explains. “It’s completely free-form.” Fashion Show Revolution, his aptly titled 2017 book, is a compendium of those playful experiments with light, reflection, performance and in-situ constructions that established his groundbreaking form—yet de Betak says it’s not meant to celebrate his art but “to mark the closing of a chapter for fashion shows.” The events as we’ve come to know them are dead, or at least dying, he says. The brutal fashion calendar, with its endless travel and enormous costs for magazines and brands, no longer makes sense when the real audience is not in the room. Coming next, according to de Betak, ar e f as hi on s hows produced as di gital content , cr ea ted expressl y to be cons um e d by a digital public. But de Betak is not sounding the death knell for his métier. “You can’t replace the magic and emotion you get from live performance,” he asserts. “We’re all interested in live moments, but we’re getting more and more used to consuming them virtually.” The live aspect is palpable in the spontaneity of the images, he says. In the future, those images will be the most important part of a show. Change, for a showman, equals opportunity. “I’m ecstatic to be a part of a new era, and ecstatic to help revolutionize it faster,” he enthuses, leaning forward as he looks up. “Newness for me means new opportunities for creative freedom.” And the show goes on. * De Betak is responsible for many notable fashion moments, from a 59-foot mountain of blue delphiniums at the Louvre to a vast scaffolded structure on a pier in Monaco.

Newness for me means new opportunities for creative freedom.

← “It’s time for people to come out on the street in their pajamas,” Spade told Purple magazine shortly after founding his own sleepwear brand. “It just feels right. It’s in the air.”

ANDY SPADE PARTNERS & SPADE

Andy Spade is an industry unto himself. He is everything from copywriter to a gallerist, fashion influencer, activist, publisher, consultant, creative director and artist. He’s also an inspiration, with enterprises spanning many creative mediums. Simply, his artistic vision and prolific drive have the power to shape the world around him. Spade initially dove into the world of fashion with his wife, Kate. The duo first launched her namesake brand in 1993, followed by the men’s counterpart, Jack Spade, in 1999. A decade ago, however, when they decided to sell the global corporation, Andy took a step back to reevaluate—but only for a moment. He soon launched a multitude of passion projects, including short film productions, bookmaking and a sleepwear brand called Sleepy Jones. He took on advertising projects with clients including The Village Voice, lent his creative eye to brands like J.Crew, opened an art venue and started his own consultancy, Partners & Spade. It’s evident, at least within the creative world, that Spade likes to master it all. He’s also a self-professed collector who finds creative innovation in his serendipitous discoveries. Collecting everything from skateboards to amateur photographs, fine art and vintage magazines, he finds that these personal treasures often become an integral part of his work. “Among some of my favorite things I’ve found are hundreds of pictures of identical twins wearing identical outfits, some original Dogtown Zephyr skateboards ridden and signed by Tony Alva and Jay Adams† and love letters between a World War II soldier and his wife,” he says. His list goes on, including items like handmade doorstops and vintage Thrasher magazines. For Spade, a new collection or creative project often begins with a forgotten person, product or object. “I stumble across these special items at a random flea market or vintage store,” he explains. He is inspired by everything from an old album cover to a street sign, and says an object can remind him of his childhood or a place from the past. “Whatever it is, I tend to have an emotional connection to the things I collect,” he says.

↑ Partners & Spade approaches every project with its team of designers, writers, architects and marketers with the belief that a brand’s messaging and expression are inseparable.

Spade’s personal history and creative journey certainly include plenty of opportunities to make such connections. “I grew up in the Arizona desert riding dirt bikes and skateboarding,” he says. “After high school, I moved to Aspen to ski and then to Hawaii to surf. I went to college, started writing, moved to NYC with only $1,000 and started working as a copywriter.” Spade says the city instantly felt like home. “Everything evolved from writing ads to designing clothes, to meeting Glenn O’Brien and Jim Walrod, discovering Rene Ricard and Agnes B. . . . Then to designing stores, making books, opening a gallery, shooting photography and making movies.” Then, as now, he says, he is constantly discovering and experimenting with new mediums.

The Zephyr Competition Team was a group of skateboarders during the mid-1970s. Hailing from Santa Monica and Venice, California, the “Z-Boys” invented specific

aerial and sliding moves that have become the basis for the sport today.

As a creative director, Spade is known for his unique sense of individuality, although it’s also true that his most enjoyable moments have come from great collaborations. “Working with brilliant people and creative problem-solving is what I enjoy most,” he says. “I choose my collaborators carefully, because it’s important that the people or organizations I work with are places and people that I have a healthy respect and admiration for.” He continues, “We normally have similar sensibilities and standards, and if not, we’re distinct opposites with the challenge of creating something completely new.” With such a diverse portfolio, one might think it would be difficult to decipher the most successful moment. But Spade answers without hesitation: “My daughter,” whom he goes on to call his muse, his inspiration, his life. Delving deeper into his creative process, Spade says everything affects his creative vision: George Lois, Marcel Duchamp, Peter Beard, skateboarding, Paul Smith, Woody Allen, National Geographic, Leonard Cohen, Joni Mitchell, Motocross, “nonsensical” lyrics in songs like Blondie’s “Rapture,” the Beats. “Everything,” he stresses yet again. The list goes on, as Spade is never far from his passions. In fact, all of his work comes from an innate place within, he says. “Design, writing, filmmaking, chess. It’s all completely instinctual. I know a project is right when I feel like I’m floating,” he explains. “I almost lose all sense of reality, and time disappears because I’m immersed in the project so deeply and having so much fun.” Spade doesn’t have a preferred space dedicated to creation. “Anywhere!” he exclaims. “I often start an idea in one place and complete it in another place—maybe it happens when I’m running a red light in a cab, later that same day! I also bring my paper and pen on long runs, and I’m always looking around. I’ve been almost run over in traffic, several times.” He pauses, “I’m incredibly curious.” *

I know a project is right when I feel like I’m floating.

→ In 2016, the duo released an updated team photo, with their employees joining them in the timehonored tradition of posing nude for studio portraits.

STEFAN SAGMEISTER & JESSICA WALSH SAGMEISTER & WALSH

← As a teen in Austria, Sagmeister pioneered the DIY graphic for Alphorn’s Anarchy issue by standing on a roof and photographing his classmates lying on the ground and forming the letter A.

Stefan Sagmeister’s rise to the top of the design world has been well documented throughout the years. When he brought Jessica Walsh on as a partner at his namesake agency, the duo made the announcement with a nude portrait that earned them widespread global attention. Sagmeister knew the simple power of the human body. “I have always been interested in how design touches me and others emotionally,” he says. And even at a young 24 years of age, Walsh insisted that their newly established equality in the studio meant equality in photo shoots as well. Sagmeister’s first job was with the Austria-based youth magazine Alphorn. “I started to write for the magazine when I was just 15 and quickly discovered that I preferred doing the layout to the writing,” he says. Launching into a design career, he began working with Leo Burnett and M&Co, and then founded his own studio, collaborating with musicians like The Rolling Stones, Lou Reed and David Byrne. Walsh, on the other hand, graduated from the Rhode Island School of Design and

went straight into an internship with Apple, going on to work with design studio Pentagram and Print Magazine before finally joining Sagmeister in 2010.

We have been very fortunate to get to do interesting work for good people. After only minutes with her portfolio, Sagmeister knew he wanted to offer Walsh a position. Just two years later, he asked her to become a partner. While the choice was surprising to some, Sagmeister has always been known as an impulsive decisionmaker. Perhaps he also hoped to be a strong mentor for the young designer. He credits the legendary Tibor Kalman with his own inspiration and design intelligence, even today. When Sagmeister first decided to come to New York, he was determined to meet with Kalman, calling his office daily for six months. “When he finally agreed to see me, it turned out I had a sketch in my portfolio rather similar in concept and execution to an idea that M&Co was working on. He rushed to show me the prototype out of fear I’d say later he stole it out of my portfolio,” Sagmeister remembers. “I was so flattered.” Sagmeister began working with the firm five years later. Kalman’s incredible passion for design is what drove his career and as such, his advice to Sagmeister was to always do everything twice: “The first time, you don’t know what you’re doing. The second time, you’ve got it. By the third time, it’s boring.”

Sagmeister saw some of himself in the young Walsh, whose persistence proved to be the key to her early success. Paula Scher was the first strong woman designer who supported Walsh after she graduated, and Sagmeister entered soon after, helping her

shape both her design and business philosophy. Today, the duo agrees on one simple point: “Taking risks and constantly challenging ourselves is so important to the process of creating something new,” Walsh says. As partners, Sagmeister and Walsh aim to develop the strongest concept for any design problem and execute it in the smartest, most beautiful way possible. “Our greatest strength in terms of client work is that we’re very good at listening,” Walsh says. “I’ve always loved not only the creative design side but also production and business management. We like to be involved in every part of the process from ideation to creation, through to production.” Working together has been even better than they hoped. The designers give each other support and direction, in addition to assistance throughout a design’s conceptual development and execution. In the studio environment, the partners might take the lead but leave plenty of room for input. “Concepts often come from the two of us, but sometimes a designer or an intern will have an amazing idea that we run with,” Walsh says. A small team allows everyone’s voice to be heard. They can make decisions and push through ideas without layers of approvals or egos involved. This strategy, they say, produces better results, which is why they’ve intentionally remained small despite their steady rise. For the duo, the approach also translates to nonstop work. “But I feel great joy and fulfillment from what I do. We have been very fortunate to get to do interesting work for good people,” says Walsh. “My life-work balance is very much okay right now, mostly because of Jessica,” Sagmeister adds. “She takes many of my worries away.” When asked what he enjoys most about his job, Sagmeister responds enthusiastically: “I have a list!” On it is everything from traveling to new places to having well-executed things come back from the printer, programmer or builder. He also enjoys the peace of a new hotel room. “I find it easy to work in a place far away from the studio, where thoughts about the implementation of an idea don’t come to mind immediately. I can dream a bit more freely,” Sagmeister says. Trains are another creative refuge. “The forward motion together with a view out the window and enough space for a sketchbook; this works very well for me.” For Walsh, her immediate surroundings often find their way back into her designs. She visits museums and attends shows, listens to music, reads books about psychology and science and blogs about popular culture and always has lengthy conversations on everything with friends. “I like creative work that touches me emotionally. I was never drawn to work that was cold and perfect—I like seeing the human element within the result,” she says. “Inspiration comes from everywhere, and we’re always pulling from our subconscious. The more varied our experiences and knowledge, the more interesting our work.” Both Sagmeister and Walsh value design as an avenue to engage viewers, a tool to affect the bigger picture. In fact, it’s the foundation that built such a successful partnership. The culture at Sagmeister & Walsh is simple—they work incredibly hard, with tremendous passion, to do the best they can. But not without a bit of emotion, humor and wit. *

We have been very fortunate to get to do interesting work for good people.

H.P. ZINKER Sagmeister earned four Grammy nominations for his first CD cover, for the experimental hard rock band H.P. Zinker in 1995. Founded by Hans Platzgumer (guitars, vocals) and Frank Puempel (bass, vocals), the group toured Europe before relocating from their native Innsbruck, Austria, to New York City in 1989. Using stereoscopic illusion, the cover for Mountains of Madness features the relaxed face of a man behind its red casing; removing the booklet reveals the man’s screaming face in green, red and white. Although this was the band’s final release, the group was the first release on New York City’s now-iconic Matador record label. The late career recognition earned Sagmeister prominent clients such as The Rolling Stones and Lou Reed.

← Guadagnino studied literature at the University of Palermo and graduated from Sapienza University of Rome, where he completed his thesis on director Jonathan Demme.

LUCA GUADAGNINO

CALL ME BY YOUR NAME A BIGGER SPLASH I AM IN LOVE

No filmmaker engages all five senses quite like Italian director Luca Guadagnino. His films are cinematic psychostimulants, an exceptional kind of sensory overload— something he has honed over a 20-year career as the director of films like A Bigger Splash (2015) and Call Me By Your Name (2017). Apart from sight and sound, taste, smell and touch become the means of his film’s transportive narratives—for example, the downward yank of Primo Reggiani’s briefs in Melissa P. (2005) or Tilda Swinton’s orgasmic bite of a prawn in I Am Love (2009). The New Yorker said watching Swinton was “the best sex you will get all year.” Where many filmmakers would skip these details in favor of action, Guadagnino lingers over them, creating a languid portrait of how people live and interact. Rather than deter the drama, they heighten it. Despite his own approach, Guadagnino grew up on a diet of cinematic turmoil: Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho and David Lean’s Lawrence of Arabia were favorites as a child. Suspiria, by cult Italian filmmaker Dario Argento, was also an early influence.† At age nine, Guadagnino was hypnotized by the film’s poster—a silhouetted dancer dripping in crimson blood. “I saw the movie when I was 13,” he recalls. “It was an experience that went beyond my comprehension and allowed me to think that you can

do something unpredictable and powerful with cinema.” He continues, “It was something deep that rooted into me, to a degree that never left me, to the point at which now I’m remaking it.” Despite having film classics on heavy rotation and a strong desire to add to that canon, he wasn’t always drawn to a career behind the camera. It was a former university classmate, Daniela Polizzi, who pushed him to take the plunge while the pair were in school. “She came to me and said, ‘You talk about being a director, you share all your plans, but you do nothing to put these plans in motion. Why don’t you put these plans in motion? Do it!’” he remembers. “By frightening me in a harsh and direct, brutal way, she woke me up. That’s how I decided I was not going to stay in Palermo anymore, and at the age of 21, I left home to become a professional filmmaker.” Born in the small Sicilian town and raised in the sizzling climes of Ethiopia, Guadagnino was exposed to a wealth of culture at a young age. Having relocated from country to country, Guadagnino stresses sense of place in his films. Critics have gone so far as to dub them “postcards,” a description the director rebukes. If true, he says, “it would be a small plan.” Instead, he plants his stories in authentic places—not to abet the drama, but to underscore it. “Place is everything to me,” he says, “because if you do not put the characters into a specific place, then you have a disconnected narrative that is only there for the aspect of drama.”

Dario Argento, who Guadagnino has long looked to for inspiration, is an Italian director, producer, critic and screenwriter. Working mostly during the ’70s and ’80s, Argento is best known for his influence on the horror film genre, particularly in the thriller or crime fiction subgenre known as giallo.

As much as Tilda Swinton and Dakota Johnson are essential members of his rotating cast, his true muse is the Italian landscape. It is both his home and where a majority of his films are made. “I always live in a sort of ‘beyond,’” he explains. “I am always restlessly thinking of being somewhere else even though I enjoy being in Milan.” Though it’s the place he’s most affected by, he’s intrigued by other cities. “I could say Paris, but then maybe I would be in Paris and I would like to be somewhere else,” he says. “So probably my next place to live is the next one in which I’m going to be.” What inspires him, regardless of the city itself, is “the light and how it behaves in a specific environment.” Guadagnino also employs fashion and music to astounding effect. On A Bigger Splash, he collaborated with Dior’s former creative director Raf Simons to create costumes for Tilda Swinton. Fashion designer Silvia Venturini Fendi even has a producer credit on I Am Love. When it comes to music, Guadagnino generally favors classical, but he has injected songs into his films by artists like Sufjan Stevens and The Rolling Stones. Radiohead’s Thom Yorke is working on his remake of Suspiria. “My repertoire of music is also shared with my editor Walter Fasano, and I have many people I love,” he says of the soundtracking process. All told, the director’s use of sound and cinematography is a perfect recipe for emotional turbulence, with pulse-quickening scenes about love and heartbreak shining

through. One scene at the end of 2017’s gay love epic Call Me By Your Name is particularly shattering. Timothée Chalamet’s character, Elio, is reeling from the end of his fling with Oliver (Armie Hammer). “Ma Mère l’Oye” by French composer Maurice Ravel softly plays as Elio, sitting on the couch crying, is comforted by his father (Michael Stuhlbarg). Stuhlbarg delivers a moving speech about fully embracing that emotional pain. The scene was shot in three takes. “We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster than we should that we go bankrupt by the age of 30 and have less to offer each time we start with someone new,” the character says. “But to feel nothing so as not to feel anything—what a waste!” What brings audiences to tears, however, leaves Guadagnino unmoved. “That’s cheesy,” he says when I suggest that filming these scenes must bring a tear to his eye. “No. You are like a dressmaker working with a piece of cloth. You’re sewing it together, so you’re not seeing the thing in the same way the client of a couture house will see the final piece. You see the making of it.” He continues, “It takes a long time to be detached enough from your work that you can see it in a way in which you can feel the emotion that as a filmmaker you wanted to communicate to others and your audience.” However, when his ideas come, they are accidental, he explains, not divine. And however they’re put to celluloid, he has no regrets. “I’m that kind of person who doesn’t have to deal with regrets, luckily enough.” * Guadagnino has directed short films for brands like Fendi, Giorgio Armani and Cartier through his production agency, Frenesy. “I have so many friends who are fashion designers who are so inspiring to me in the way they see the world,” he told WWD.

I live in a sort of “beyond.” That’s my attitude in life.

ENTERTAINMENT ARCHIVE

← Hitchcock allegedly hated watching his own films. “I never go to see them. I don’t know how people can bear to watch my movies,” he said during an interview in 1963. He was also reportedly fearful of eggs. The portly British director is responsible for some of the greatest suspense thrillers of all time.

1899–1980

ALFRED HITCHCOCK Alfred Hitchcock started working in motion pictures in his native England before studio head David O. Selznick convinced him to come to Hollywood. If a director’s job is to represent a narrative, Hitchcock was a master manipulator. Each brief cameo in his own films was a sly reference to the fact that he was an omnipresent, omnipotent force. Over the course of his career, the director explored some of the most taboo aspects of humanity—homicidal impulses, sexual compulsion and seemingly innocuous fears—into crescendoing dramatic operas of suspense and heightened paranoia, communicated through a type of dream logic. He was legendarily disdainful of the wants and needs of actors (even comparing them to “cattle”), but he worked with many stars of the era, and made some—such as Cary Grant, Grace Kelly and Tippi Hedren—iconic in their roles. Hitchcock was a great example of someone who worked within the studio system to make provocative work. One of his fans, the French New Wave director François Truffaut, convinced “Hitch,” as he was called, through a complimentary letter, to agree to a series of interviews about his work. They ended up speaking for 30 hours, and Truffaut published the interviews in a book entitled Hitchcock/Truffaut, which sought to illuminate the selfaware, strategic auteur behind the Hollywood gloss. In it, Hitchcock revealed a great deal about his process. Each detail, from how he hid a small lightbulb in a glass of potentially poisoned milk—adding a surreal, foreboding effect to a scene in which Cary Grant carries a tray up a flight of stairs to Joan Fontaine’s bedroom in Suspicion —to how in Vertigo, the act of Kim Novak dressing in the clothes chosen by James Stewart in an homage to the dead woman was a representation of “necrophilia.” His personal life, which remained stable and uneventful except when he was on a film set, only emphasized the richness and turbulence of his inner psyche. He was able to bring it to life on-screen.*

1904–1983

GEORGE BALANCHINE If dance came from theater, George Balanchine sought to divorce the former from any sense of narrative and make movement its primary expression. The celebrated choreographer labeled ballet an “independent art,” and his mastery of the “plotless” ballet—where the overwrought stage sets, excessively deployed music and over-thetop spectacle of productions that were en vogue were disregarded to instead put dance back in the spotlight—reinvigorated the medium. Yet Balanchine came from a classical background. The child of a composer, he had an innate understanding of music, and trained in piano and music theory. Those disciplines would give him a firm understanding of how to pair sound with choreography later in life; and especially in his collaborations with the modernist composer Igor Stravinsky. Balanchine joined the corps de ballet of the Maryinsky Theatre Ballet Company at 17, and in 1924 left the Soviet Union on a tour with the company. While in Paris, he had an opportunity to audition for the Ballet Russes, and was accepted. Its leader, Sergei Diaghilev, elevated him to the level of choreographer, and he served as the company’s ballet master until Diaghilev’s death in 1929. Balanchine’s approach was a decided departure from the over-the-top theatricality in Russia and England at the time. He started his own company in Paris, Les Ballets 1933, and collaborated with contemporaries like theater provocateur Bertolt Brecht. Later, the choreographer departed Europe for the U.S. at the behest of the American dance critic Lincoln Kirstein, founding the School of American Ballet so that the country would have a conservatory on par with the grand, rigorous schools in Europe. He finally settled in the U.S. permanently to form the Ballet Society, which would then become the New York City Ballet, an institution synonymous with the director’s neoclassical style. With nearly 500 works to his name, dabbling in film, theater and opera, and including such classics as The Nutcracker and A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Balanchine’s legacy is immortalized.*

Founded in 1933 with Boris Kochno, Les Ballets 1933 was a ballet company that existed for less than four weeks and tailored itself to small, wealthy audiences in Paris and London. Balanchine used the company to create new works that were completely independent, both in choreography and music. Reviews were mixed, however, as some critics said the company was too youthful, like its founder, and others thought it too extravagant. Composers ranged from Kurt Weill to Tchaikovsky, with costumes by Barbara Karinska.

1912–2006

GORDON PARKS The Farm Security Administration (FSA) was one of many public initiatives the United States took to create opportunity in rural communities during the Great Depression. The FSA hired photographers and writers—including Walker Evans, Dorothea Lange and Gordon Parks—to document the effects of the economic blight on their fellow citizens. The work that Parks completed during his fellowship cemented his eye as a chronicler of socioeconomic strife, race relations, poverty and civil rights in America. Parks was entirely self-taught, after purchasing a camera from a pawnshop.¶ His talent, as a photographer and beyond, quickly became clear. He was the first African-American to become a staff photographer at Life magazine, and the first to direct and produce a Hollywood movie (based on his own bestselling novel). Parks joined Life in the ’40s and cut a path that would eventually define the magazine’s brand of photojournalism and social documentary, and represent the realities of black America. Shaft, the seminal ’70s action flick, is a Gordon Parks vehicle. But Parks’ camera worked in tandem with his own empathetic perspective. “I saw that the camera could be a weapon against poverty, against racism, against all sorts of social wrongs,” he said in a 1999 interview. “I knew at that point I had to have a camera.” *

1938–1993

RUDOLF NUREYEV With his long hair, high cheekbones and impeccable contemporary technique, Rudolf Nureyev brought a charismatic celebrity to the world of ballet—and is partly responsible for bringing the classic art form to a mass audience. Though he was born and trained in the Soviet Union, he defected in the ’60s, eventually dancing as a guest of the British Royal Ballet. In an era where ballerinas typically stole the spotlight, Nureyev’s animalistic energy and striking looks brought the role of the male dancer to the fore. Nureyev came to New York to work with another Russian-born success, George Balanchine, who cast him in a New York City Opera production of Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme. He quickly became part of the city’s celebrity crowd and a regular at Studio 54, palling around with owner Steve Rubell and patrons like Andy Warhol, Liza Minnelli and other socialites. While he set the standard of the classical dancer, Nureyev found himself drawn to modern dance as well, eventually performing with the Martha Graham Dance Company. He also served as the director of the Paris Opera Ballet, bringing choreography to new heights and recontextualizing classic narratives with contemporary, inventive spins, such as a Cinderella set in Hollywood.*

→ With inexhaustible stamina, Nureyev performed at a nonstop pace over his long career, acquiring over 90 roles and appearances with over 30 major ballet and modern dance companies.

← Ford’s long career began in the silent film era and lasted through the mid-1960s. He started as a prop man after high school, and his first opportunity to direct came in 1917.

1894–1973

JOHN FORD Iconography always has an author, and in the case of the freewheeling, wild, openskied American West, John Ford gave the landscape a visual vernacular. The IrishAmerican film director staged many scenes in Monument Valley (amid the sweeping sandstone buttes, a red sand desert that straddles the Arizona–Utah border is even named John Ford’s Point). Though he was awarded a record number of four Best Director Oscars for a variety of films (The Informer, How Green Was My Valley, an adaptation of John Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath and The Quiet Man), the director became venerated for his succession of Westerns, including Stagecoach, The Searchers and The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance. He is also responsible for shaping the rough-and-tumble ideal of American masculinity over his many collaborations with John Wayne—the prototypical good-guy cowboy in the white hat. ¶ Known for his hardheadedness and heroic actions during World War II, Ford got his start in Hollywood as a jack-of-all-trades assistant for his director brother before climbing the ranks. He eventually made over 100 films in his decades-long career, beginning in the silent era. He exercised a talent for cutting in-camera—editing as film was shot to combat waste of time and resources. He also assembled a repertory-like group of actors, including Wayne, Maureen O’Hara, Henry Fonda (the father of Peter and Jane) and his brother, Francis, to portray his vision. The director both gave loyalty to and expected it from this inner circle. Toward the end of his life, Ford lost vision in his left eye during an on-set accident and took to wearing a black eye patch; it made him, at over six feet tall, an imposing figure (he was also known to have both a drink— often going through cases of beer in a day—and cigar in hand while he worked). But Ford was in the business of myth making, and as one of the lines in The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance goes, “This is the West, sir. When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.”*

1886–1962

MICHAEL CURTIZ The master of the classic film, Michael Curtiz embodied the quintessential idea of the Hollywood studio director. After being recruited by studio head Jack Warner during the silent era, the Hungarian-born filmmaker embarked on a decades-long contract with Warner Brothers, prolifically completing nearly 100 romantic comedies, melodramas and swashbuckling epics. His most famous: the Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman World War II romance Casablanca, which earned him his first (and only) Academy Award for Best Director. But Curtiz also made his mark in 1945 with the original Mildred Pierce starring Joan Crawford, and with multiple collaborations with of-the-era action star Errol Flynn. Although history hasn’t always been kind to the European émigré— the film critic Andrew Sarris, who coined the term “auteur theory” to distinguish directors who maintained a visual and psychological vision, dubbed Casablanca’s success “a happy accident” and an “exception” to his theory, discounting Curtiz as a studio hand for hire, though admittedly one with technical prowess. Curtiz reportedly functioned on little sleep and clashed with his actors, but as his long-term collaborations with Flynn and James Cagney attest, he knew how to cultivate strong showings from his performers. And, as Bogart’s Rick says in Casablanca, “We’ll always have Paris.” *

1910–1998

AKIRA KUROSAWA As a teenager, Akira Kurosawa often accompanied his older brother, who worked as a benshi, or narrator, for silent films, to cinemas. But the Japanese filmmaker didn’t start working behind the camera until years later. He initially trained as a painter, graduating from the Doshisha School of Western Painting, but abandoned his work as an artist when financial success never came. When P.C.L. Studios, in Tokyo, asked for applicants for assistant directors, Kurosawa signed up as a last-ditch attempt for a job. He was accepted as an apprentice, and after working on a series of projects, he directed his first film, Sanshiro Sugata, in 1943.¶ Kurosawa lived a quiet life in Tokyo with his wife and children, but in the ’50s he came to symbolize a radical postwar style of Japanese filmmaking along with contemporaries like Yasujirō Ozu. The threeway-split narrative of Rashomon, which became Kurosawa’s claim to fame on the international film circuit, is a study of truth, deception, denial and embellishment. The historical epic, like Rashomon and The Seven Samurai (which was remade into the Am eri can W est er nThe M a gni f i cent Sev en), became an im po r tant f ramin g mechanis m for Kurosawa’s ruminations on human happiness and misery, and one that he dissected until he completed his last film in 1993.*

1936–2011

SYLVIA ROBINSON Sylvia Robinson had an innate talent for spotting what was next. And as the woman behind the very first rap label, Sugar Hill Records, she was an early architect of hiphop. Born in New York City, Robinson was a singer first and had a contract with Columbia Records at the age of 14, singing on blues tracks. In the ’50s she earned a hit, “Love Is Strange,” while performing in the duo Mickey & Sylvia; another success came with “Pillow Talk,” which Robinson wrote and eventually sang herself when it was turned down by Al Green for being too “provocative.” In addition to performing, she was a heavyweight behind the decks, starting to produce records with the label she established with her husband in the ’60s.¶ Robinson first had the idea to record rap when she heard a DJ spitballing in a local club, and she drove around Englewood, New Jersey, looking for rappers to collaborate on a track. She led the random group to the studio and orchestrated their freestyles over a series of instrumentals and samples (including “Good Times” by the disco band Chic)—which would become “Rapper’s Delight,” and the group the Sugarhill Gang. Robinson also signed Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five and produced their track “The Message,” which was to become not just a rap anthem for its throbbing beat but a shift in the genre to one with political potential.*

1908–1991

DAVID LEAN Omar Sharif appears out of a mirage, slowly advancing on horseback through the desert haze. Then he fires a gun. The sequence, a long three minutes, was as much an indelible moment for the Egyptian-born actor as it was for his director, David Lean, on the 1962 period drama Lawrence of Arabia. Perfectionism can err on the side of ruthlessness, but for Lean it was absolutely essential, his driving force—even if it did cultivate an autocratic reputation.¶ In the introduction to Stephen M. Silverman’s biography of the filmmaker, Katharine Hepburn categorized him as “strong and savage” and “the best movie director in the world.” Lean’s ability to utilize celluloid as a canvas for sumptuous visuals, along with his technical skill, is what made a number of his works, such as Lawrence of Arabia, Doctor Zhivago and The Bridge on the River Kwai such staggering epics that influenced a generation of filmmakers including Martin Scorsese, Steven Spielberg and George Lucas.¶ Born in Croydon, London, to Quaker parents, Lean landed an apprenticeship at Gaumont Studios in the 1920s, running errands, making tea and serving as a camera assistant before making his way to the editing suite. It is there that the making of this exacting director would come to fruition.*

1919–2009

MERCE CUNNINGHAM The subject of Merce Cunningham’s dance and choreography was the question of dance itself. The spiritual and conceptual heir to the trailblazing work of Martha Graham, arguably the originator of the modern dance movement, Cunningham elevated the conceptual discussion to a level that would alter the course of avant-garde dance, performance and art. Especially of note was his long-term creative relationship with composer John Cage, who became Cunningham’s partner in not just art but life. The two devised performances in which sound (Cage’s domain) and dance could be generated independently. When performed in unison, the two could clash, interact, thrive—choreography was no longer dependent on music, and could move into new arenas.¶ Born in Washington state, Cunningham first trained in the theater in Seattle before moving to dance—though the devices of theater and people like Antonin Artaud continued to inspire him. The idea of chance became a monumental influence as well. Cunningham incorporated the I Ching, a classical Chinese text, as well as Zen Buddhism into his process. The names of his compositions, such as “Tread,” “Signals” and “Objects,” are also poignantly evocative of poetry. His work with Cage was a forebear of the Judson Church movement, which gave rise to artists like Trisha Brown and Yvonne Rainer. Then, in the ’70s, he started putting dance projects on film, while keeping the reins as a choreographer; he appeared in every performance by the Merce Cunningham Dance Company up until the age of 70, and even performed with Mikhail Baryshnikov a decade later. In the late ’80s he started using a computer to choreograph compositions and became interested in motion-capture software. Still available today, the web series “Mondays with Merce,” posted on YouTube and produced by the Merce Cunningham Trust, was a peek into the dancer’s process in his final years, as well as the company’s inner workings and rehearsals.*

→ Cunningham’s first encounter with dance came through an early teacher, who was also a circus performer and vaudevillian. “I started as a tap dancer,” he told the Los Angeles Times of his origins. “It was my first theater experience, and it has stayed with me all my life.” He went on to work at the forefront of modern dance for over 60 years.

→ Cunningham founded his eponymous company while teaching at North Carolina’s Black Mountain College. The experimental art school was inspiring for other influential artists including Josef Albers and Robert Rauschenberg.

← The American socialite discovered a passion for art after a trip to Paris in 1901. She went on to study sculpture in the French capital and her hometown of New York.

1875–1942

GERTRUDE VANDERBILT WHITNEY Heiress to one of the wealthiest families in the United States, Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney started her art practice as a sculptor. She was known for large-scale public works, many of them dealing with classical, social and political themes, such as the Three Graces and The Titanic Memorial, the latter completed in memoriam of the luxury liner. But her greatest endeavor was shaping the recognition and preservation of American art. In 1907, she opened a studio in New York’s Greenwich Village. The assemblage of salons and rooms snaked through a network of carriage houses and town houses on West Eighth Street, overlooking MacDougal Alley, just north of Washington Square Park. While the studio became the seat of her sculpting practice, it was also a place for artists to gather and discuss ideas. Purchasing works from many of them over the years, she established the Whitney Studio in 1914 as an exhibition space. It became fertile ground for New York artists of the era, and was officially inaugurated the Whitney Studio Club in 1918. (The Whitney Studio Galleries came a decade later.) Whitney evolved into a serious art patron, supporting young artists like Edward Hopper, and as her engagement with the contemporary New York art scene grew, so did her collection. In 1929, she offered more than 600 works to the Metropolitan Museum of Art; the director refused the donation. So Whitney decided to strike out on her own. With the mission of featuring American art and American artists, she founded the Whitney Museum of American Art in 1930, opening the institution in the West Eighth Street space the next year. The site is now part of the New York Studio School of Drawing, Painting and Sculpture, and the museum has grown through many different homes. After opening on West 54th Street in 1954, it moved to the iconic brutalist Marcel Breuer–designed building at Madison Avenue and 75th Street in 1963. In 2015, the museum relocated once again, to Manhattan’s Meatpacking District, in a new glass structure designed by the Italian-born architect Renzo Piano.*

1918–2007

INGMAR BERGMAN Few filmmakers are held in the same esteem as Ingmar Bergman, whose work probes the despair and startling hope of humanity. Born in Sweden in 1918 to a clergyman father, Bergman first got a taste for the theatrical from a childhood toy: a paper lantern, which allowed him to stage tableaux with scenery, lighting effects and his own puppet productions.¶ He joined Svensk Filmindustri in the script department in the ’40s and eventually became a director of Stockholm’s Royal Dramatic Theater. Directing his first feature in 1945, Bergman made his critical breakthrough with Smiles of a Summer Night and The Seventh Seal, a bleak meditation on mortality. The latter also cemented Bergman’s fixation on matters of existentialism, religion and moral quandary, all of which came to define his oeuvre.¶ Bergman’s personal relationships and observations were fodder for his work, and his most famous films, such as Persona, Wild Strawberries and Through a Glass Darkly, made their mark with nuanced accounting of the interior lives of men and women—and striking visuals by his longtime cinematographer Sven Nykvist. After completing what he considered his magnum opus, Fanny and Alexander, the director spent the remainder of his life on Fårö, an isolated island in the Baltic Sea, working on various projects for film, stage and television.*

1915–1985

ORSON WELLES “Over the top!” “Larger than life!” The adjectives used to describe Orson Welles lean toward excess, and that’s the way the actor, filmmaker and theater director would have wanted it. Welles, whose early claim to fame was his notable—and controversial —Shakespearean performances, defined early American cinema with Citizen Kane, which he directed, starred in and innovated with the use of flashback and deep focus. He also gained much notoriety for hoodwinking the American public with his radio play War of the Worlds, which convincingly reported on a Martian invasion touching down in New Jersey. With an imposing height, a domineering attitude and an insatiable appetite for fine food, wine and cigars, Welles’ “boy wonder” reputation (he completed Kane at the age of 25) preceded him and infused his approach with a healthy dose of ego and risk-taking. While he struggled with collaborations, budgets and feedback from critics, the Kenosha, Wisconsin–born artist created some of the most innovative theatrical productions of the era—including modern restagings of Julius Caesar set in Fascist Italy and Macbeth with an all African-American cast. Many of his critical flops at the time, such as the noir Touch of Evil and the Falstaff adaptation Chimes at Midnight, are now considered masterworks.*

1889–1963

JEAN COCTEAU The consummate modernist, Jean Cocteau cultivated a cult of personality, earning him the nickname “The Frivolous Prince” and putting him in a league of artists (like Dalí and Warhol) in which his personhood was inextricable from his work. He was, on the surface, the original Paris intellectual, dabbling across mediums: plays, poetry, music, film, painting and drawing—and creating his own self-mythology in the process. Cocteau published his first book of poetry, La Lamp d’Aladin, at the age of 19, and while he didn’t consider himself a film director, per se, his adaptations of La Belle et la Bête and Orphée left a definitive mark and became hugely influential to generations of filmmakers. But while his prodigious artistic output certified his place in history, his aura of faded bohemian glamour and dandyism—such as his crippling longtime opium addiction, tragic love affairs and avant-garde social circle that included the likes of Marcel Proust, Pablo Picasso, Kenneth Anger and Marlene Dietrich—made him a symbol of pre–World War II Parisian excess. In 1963, Cocteau died of a heart attack just hours after the announcement that his friend the singer Édith Piaf had died the day before, a curiously timed swan song for their creative epoch.*

1897–1991

FRANK CAPRA Director Frank Capra deftly crafted an American cinematic archetype—the idealistic, patriotic, hardworking “good guy” standing up for what’s right, all in pursuit of the American Dream. Many of the characters that appeared in his films, including It Happened One Night, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, Arsenic and Old Lace and It’s a Wonderful Life, portrayed by leading men like James Stewart and Gary Cooper, had a similar optimistic sensibility that feels intrinsically close to Capra’s personal history.¶ Born in Palermo, Sicily, Capra immigrated to the United States with his family, landing in Los Angeles in 1903. He worked to pull himself up by any opportunity— wedging his foot in the door of Hollywood during the silent era of the ’20s and rising through the ranks at Columbia Pictures, where his films turned the small production company into a major studio. His autobiography, cheekily, is titled The Name Above The Title, after all. Critics have described some of his films as merely sentimental, but the director’s dedication to comedy and “message” films, in which a lesson is learned, were representative of his personal ideals. And his dedication to the autonomy of the craft—Capra fought for his agency as producer, writer and director—was an early example of what would later be heralded as the “auteur.” *

← According to Kubrick’s assistant for over 30 years, Anthony Frewin, the director created an early “social network” for readers across America to review novels and screenplays, in the hopes of finding Kubrick’s next big story. It was a task he obsessed over.

1928–1999

STANLEY KUBRICK The films of Stanley Kubrick exhibit a contained fanaticism. They exude an aura of austerity and are painstakingly controlled, precise and clinical—what comes through in the widescreen scale of epics like 2001: A Space Odyssey, A Clockwork Orange, Full Metal Jacket and Eyes Wide Shut is pure obsession. Kubrick’s hands guided each step of his productions, from writing, to lighting, to editing, to the psychology of his actors, to the final cut of the trailer.¶ Born in the Bronx, Kubrick moved to an estate in Hertfordshire, England, with his family after the success of Spartacus, starring Kirk Douglas. His reclusive and press-shy nature (and phobia of flying) restricted his travel, so actors came to him. His professional relationships were often contentious— he was known to reshoot a scene up to 100 times—and the notoriously brutal production schedule of his adaptation of The Shining drove actress Shelley Duvall to the brink. Kubrick’s attraction to humanity’s darker appetites for sex and violence and a bleak, caustic sense of humor are landmarks of films including the nuclear war satire Dr. Strangelove or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb. Yet he’s also been celebrated for his sheer innovation in visuals, technology and cinematography. Think of 2001’s sweeping retro-future space vistas, the strategic deployment of the Steadicam in The Shining or the painterly quality of the visuals of Barry Lyndon, in which scenes illuminated by natural light were captured with Zeiss lenses originally created for NASA. One wonders what he would have done if he had been able to complete his long-in-the-works science fiction project A.I. Artificial Intelligence, adapted from a short story by Brian Aldiss. (Kubrick acquired its rights in the ’70s, and after a stagnant development period, passed off directing duties to Steven Spielberg in the mid-’90s.) Kubrick died suddenly of a heart attack in 1999, shortly after finishing the final cut of Eyes Wide Shut.*

1925–PRESENT

PETER BROOK In Peter Brook’s book Tip of the Tongue, published in 2017, he writes, “Every form of theatre has something in common with a visit to the doctor. On the way out, one should always feel better than on the way in.” Brook’s work as a producer and director created a seismic shift in the theater establishment in England, where he shaped, irreversibly, how the classics were presented. The London native brought then-provocative works by Jean Cocteau and Jean-Paul Sartre to the English stage, and set the burgeoning Royal Shakespeare Company on its course when he joined the group in the ’60s, staging productions of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, The Tempest and King Lear in new contexts, swapping out the romantic Shakespearean trappings for stark sets and physical performances. Breathing new life into the staid, fusty texts, Brook brought Shakespearean craft from a thing of the past to a radical new frontier. Especially of note was Brook’s interest in the French dramatist Antonin Artaud.¶ Moreover, Brook created the Theater of Cruelty Workshop in 1963 as a way for the Royal Shakespeare Company to flex its avant-garde muscles; one result of that was the production of Peter Weiss’ two-act play Marat/Sade, which was applauded for its gritty realism and elevated Brook to international renown. However, he withdrew from the commercial theater world in the early ’70s in an effort to interrogate the conceptual dynamics of the stage; the result was the International Center of Theatre Research, which served as a boot camp and training ground for ideas and toured around the world. One notable production for Iran’s Shiraz festival was Orghast, in which the actors spoke in an invented language. The group also traveled to Africa and to Native American reservations in the United States to study different cultural

performances. The director’s creative output wasn’t just limited to the stage either. He brought his vision to film adaptations of King Lear, Marcel Proust’s Swann in Love and William Golding’s classic novel Lord of the Flies, the latter of which has been immortalized in the Criterion Collection.*

In 1959, Brook directed Rex Harrison in The Hurluberlu by Jean Anouilh, marking the third collaboration between director and playwright. Now 93, the director’s first lesson in the theater came early: “If you are lucky enough to do something that really seems to touch people,” he told The San Francisco Chronicle, “it’s your responsibility to go on playing it as long as there are people who call for it.”

1948–PRESENT

MIKHAIL BARYSHNIKOV Mikhail Baryshnikov took on the world of dance with the finesse and precision of his classical ballet technique, but he earned a reputation for his appetite for experimentation. Baryshnikov was born in Riga, Latvia, in 1948, while it was still under the purview of the Soviet Union, and earned accolades dancing for the Kirov Ballet in Leningrad (present-day St. Petersburg). He defected to the West in 1974 to break free from the restraint of the de rigueur Soviet discipline and find creative freedom. Soon, he found himself taking direction from some of the most influential, boundary-breaking choreographers of the era, including Alvin Ailey and Twyla Tharp. Baryshnikov found a home at the American Ballet Theater, and later the New York City Ballet, where he danced under the tutelage of Jerome Robbins and fellow Russian titan George Balanchine. He assumed the artistic director position at the American Ballet Theater in the ’80s and established a forward-thinking program, reworking and restaging classical ballets with star turns from dance innovators like Martha Graham, before starting the White Oak Dance Project, a modern dance group. Baryshnikov also moved into other disciplines over the course of his life, including acting in theater (he won a Tony nomination for his role in an adaptation of Franz Kafka’s Metamorphosis), film and TV.*

1933–PRESENT

QUINCY JONES Quincy Jones arranged the first song to be played on the moon (“Fly Me to the Moon,” sung by Frank Sinatra and played, fortuitously, by the astronaut Buzz Aldrin on a portable cassette player). And that’s the sort of stratospheric level of success that has been reached by this composer, musician and producer. His achievements come in quantity and quality as he churned out a prodigious volume of guaranteed hits across genres. He has co-produced some of the bestselling pop albums (Michael Jackson’s Thriller, Off the Wall and Bad) and cross-pollinated pop, soul, jazz and hip-hop. He has racked up 28 Grammy Awards and is among the rare echelon of individuals who have “EGOT”-ed, receiving an Emmy, Grammy, Oscar and Tony. Jones found music through his teenage friend Ray Charles and started working as an arranger, linking up with Count Basie, Sarah Vaughan and eventually Sinatra. His record label, Qwest, consisted of a lineup that included boundary-pushing British acts like Joy Division and New Order. And Jones has been perpetually involved in various pop- culture projects, from high to low, executive producing the ’90s sitcom The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air and launching Vibe magazine, which became the decade’s leading voice on hip-hop. The mogul moves fast.*

← Long considered the “Mother of Modern Dance,” Graham frequently created her own costumes as well. “Dance is theater and larger than life,” she said in a 1989 interview. “Makeup and costume, correctly chosen, define movement in a different way.”

1894–1991

MARTHA GRAHAM There was ballet, and then there was Martha Graham. As a young dancer, she encountered an abstract work by Wassily Kandinsky, a streak of red imposed on a blue background, and thought, “I will dance like that.” What her contemporary Pablo Picasso did for painting, Graham did for dance—she brought the medium into a modernist context. Her treatment of the body was powerful, abstract, raw and deeply expressive. The action of breath, for example, and the idea of “tension” and “release,” the “spiral” movement of the torso and the axis of the spine all grounded the physicality of her approach. She established the Martha Graham Studio in the 1920s, and her choreography broke boundaries not just for its radical technique but also for its subject matter, including psychological, sexual and sociopolitical themes. For a series of performances influenced by Greek mythology, strong feminine figures such as Medea and Jocasta became heroines tapping into their power and struggle against outside forces. ¶ Graham also used the stage as a space for multidisciplinary collaborations with giants from other fields. She and sculptor Isamu Noguchi embarked on a long-term partnership crafting stage sets. For Frontier in 1935, they transposed an austere western landscape to the stage; for Night Journey, the production retelling Oedipus Rex from Jocasta’s perspective, Noguchi devised a stark, almost menacing marriage bed. She also worked with designers like Halston, Calvin Klein and Donna Karan on wardrobe. Graham choreographed her performances to include herself until she officially retired from the stage in 1969 at 75, but she inspired a league of disciples to train in her tradition (she also taught several actors how to wield their bodies on stage and screen). Merce Cunningham and Twyla Tharp were deeply influenced by her, as were classical ballet dancers like Rudolf Nureyev and Mikhail Baryshnikov, who looked to expand their horizons with the modern approach.*

→ In 1925, Graham accepted a teaching position at the Eastman School of Music in Rochester, New York. With full creative control over the dance program, she began to experiment more freely, exploring the falling, shaking and convulsive motions that would become her signature.

1926–2016

GEORGE MARTIN Known for his modesty and unflashy personality, Sir George Martin signed a nearly overlooked music group and turned them into one of the most progressive pop acts in music history. He became one of the first music producers to become as famous as any act he was producing, at least to those behind the scenes. From 1962 until the group disbanded in 1970, Martin had a fruitful collaboration with The Beatles. His work gave rise to the profile of the music producer, paving the way for the likes of Rick Rubin. Born in London in 1926, Martin studied piano, oboe, composing and conducting. After serving in World War II, he joined Parlophone, a subsidiary of EMI Records, where his work leaned toward classical and comedy and included producing albums for Peter Sellers. Rock ’n’ roll wasn’t really a part of the conversation at Parlophone, and Martin had already turned down The Beatles once before. EMI pushed to sign them, and the producer was eventually won over by the group’s wit. Martin then became a strategic voice in the room; for example, he pushed them to swap out drummer Pete Best, replacing him with Ringo Starr. As the decade wore on and the group embraced the counterculture, dressing in psychedelic prints and growing their hair, Martin remained in his crisp suits and shirts. But he was able to keep up in terms of progressive sound, fostering The Beatles’ interest in experimentation. His out-there, abstract, kooky arrangements and productions for “A Day in the Life” on the album Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band was wholly innovative. Martin established his own record company, AIR, in the early ’60s and also found much success with the British Invasion–style groups he produced along with the Beatles, like Gerry and the Pacemakers. Before he died in 2017, Martin made much work out of preserving the quality of the Beatles’ archive and overseeing the release of live performances and studio sessions.*

→ Considered the ultimate behind-the-scenes contributor, Martin’s most notable appearance was the Bach-esque piano bridge on The Beatles’ “In My Life.” Often mistaken for a harpsichord, the producer’s unique experiment was actually done by adjusting tape speeds.

1930–PRESENT

JEAN-LUC GODARD At the height of the French New Wave in the 1960s, Jean-Luc Godard faced the world through a pair of chic dark-lensed glasses, with a confidence that mirrored that of his films. Godard led a group of critics-turned- filmmakers, enamored with American Hollywood and gangster films of the 1930s and ’40s, who reworked their conventions for an entirely new type of cinema. Alongside his friends François Truffaut, Eric Rohmer and Jacques Rivette (who all became influential directors of the era), Godard wrote for the film journal Cahiers du cinéma—and soon started making films. Breathless, a crime caper starring the American actress Jean Seberg and the rakish Jean-Paul Belmondo, was his breakout hit, and Godard’s signatures—dynamic camera work, jump cuts and designed titles, for example, became a stylish new visual language, along with his penchant for humor, irreverence and romance. His female stars became his romantic partners as well, including Anna Karina, who starred in a succession of his films in the ’60s. As the decade continued, and the counterculture blossomed, his films communicated his interest in politics, becoming more abstract. He has over 100 credits as a director. His 3-D feature, Goodbye to Language, premiered to rave reviews at the Cannes Film Festival in 2014.*

→ Collaborators like actor Raoul Coutard suspected that Godard’s fascination with destroying cars—even his own blue Alfa-Romeo—was because he hated “Sunday drivers.”

← Among other practical tips in the legendary costume designer’s 1967 book, Head wrote, “Before you are interviewed for the job you want, try on the complete outfit you intend to wear.”

1897–1981

EDITH HEAD Bette Davis’ off-the-shoulder, ruffled confection in All About Eve, Barbara Stanwyck’s pillbox hat with a frothy veil in Double Indemnity, Gloria Swanson’s allover leopard print in Sunset Boulevard, Tippi Hedren’s monochromatic, fresh green ensemble in The Birds—Edith Head defined the sartorial identity of Paramount Studios for decades, until she decamped to Universal Pictures in the late ’60s. Today, the costume designer is known for her idiosyncratic look as much as for the scores of wardrobes she assembled for ultra-famous leading ladies like Rita Hayworth, Elizabeth Taylor, Marilyn Monroe, Marlene Dietrich and Audrey Hepburn. In dark round glasses, distinctive bangs and suit, Head was barely five feet tall. But her oeuvre speaks for itself: 1,000 films, 35 Oscar nominations and eight wins, including for All About Eve, Roman Holiday and Sabrina. ¶ The Berkeley-educated Head first applied to Paramount as a sketch artist (previously, she was a teacher), using a portfolio she swiped from another student. It was a prime example of her sense of ambition. Head became the chief designer for Paramount in the late ’30s, and it was there that she cultivated her own approach to costuming. In contrast to contemporaries of the era, who were often marked by a flamboyant point of view and a penchant for over-the-top, spangled and sparkling gowns, Head brought a measured dose of thoughtfulness to her designs. Yes, there was plenty of fun, fantasy and excess (like the sinuous sarongs she delivered for The Jungle Princess or the slick, dreamy satins for Hitchcock’s muse, Grace Kelly), but she also excelled at a more utilitarian-minded chic. Think, for example, of the refreshingly simple short-sleeved white button-down, belted tan pleated skirt and neck scarf Hepburn donned for Roman Holiday. In 1967, Head published How to Dress for Success, a guide filled with plenty of bons mots taken from a lifetime of knowing what to wear, when. Though certainly now outdated, Head’s pragmatism is at full force. Her advice? “Looking like a super-efficient executive secretary may help you get the job, but it won’t help you punctuate the letters.” *

1898–1979

PEGGY GUGGENHEIM Overlooking the Grand Canal in the Dorsoduro district of Venice is the Peggy Guggenheim Collection. The converted 18th-century palazzo is what Guggenheim, a millionaire American expat and longtime art patron, called home. The heiress was the daughter of Benjamin Guggenheim (who died on the Titanic in 1912) and the niece of Solomon R. Guggenheim (for whom the New York museum is named). She broke free of a moneyed, well-heeled childhood when she came into her inheritance in the 1920s, diving into the bohemian life and moving to Europe, where she was soon palling around with a generation of famous artists. Her collection includes some of the most influential names of the 20th century, including Max Ernst (coincidentally, an ex-husband), Pablo Picasso, Marc Chagall, Jackson Pollock and Salvador Dalí. At the beginning of World War II, she returned to New York and founded the gallery Art of This Century, showing a new school of American painting from Pollock, Clyfford Still, Mark Rothko and Robert Motherwell. She had a succession of lovers and husbands, famous and not, and became friends with Marcel Duchamp and the sculptors Brancusi and Giacometti. Her memoir Confessions of anArt Addict, published in 1960, shares plenty of details from her long, gossip-worthy life.*

←

With no formal education in art history, Guggenheim once asked the Louvre’s assistance in protecting her small collection during World War II. The museum declined, saying nothing was worth saving. Today, the Peggy Guggenheim Museum in Venice is one the world’s finest modern art museums.

READING LIST

1. Photographer André Villers captures an esteemed artist at his most intimate in Picasso. 2. Things I Have Learned In My Life So Far is an eclectic mix of maxims from adman Stefan Sagmeister. 3. Art Is The Highest Form Of Hope inspires with insightful quotes from artists around the world. 4. Step inside the ever-curious mind of Andy Spade with Likes, a curated compilation of the visionary’s Instagram posts. 5. Wayne McGregor’s Mind and Movement, designed by Magpie Studio, is a lesson plan for dynamic motion in creative spaces. 6. In Betak: Fashion Show Revolution, go behind the scenes with one of the industry’s most innovative show producers.

7. A Dictionary of Color Combinations introduces 348 different combinations from Japanese artist Sanzo Wada. 8. Akademie X curates teachings from 36 notable artists and critics, including Marina Abramovic and Miranda July. 9. In Wolfgang Tillmans, Chris Dercon puts a spotlight on the artist and photographer’s avant-garde work. 10. Through a Different Lens exposes the virtuosic vision of a young Kubrick, showcasing photographs of his native New York City shot for Look magazine. 11. Freetown Sound, Dev Hynes’ third album under his Blood Orange moniker, explores topics from race to masculinity. 12. Through stories and photographs, Lee Radziwill shares her highly publicized and cultured life in Lee.

INVENTORY

DESK TOOLS

1. Schoolhouse Electric & Supply Co. / Flip Clock: Crafted by one of the world’s original flip clock manufacturers and hand-assembled in Portland, Oregon, this analog throwback is a helpful reminder to put your phone down. 2. Hay / Calendar: What’s better than the ritual of time itself? From holidays to milestones, enjoy each month by holding it in your hands with Hay’s bold new calendar, which comes with a metal clip for hanging. 3. Frama / Fundament Candleholders: Now, here’s a design statement. The Fundament series from Copenhagen’s Frama includes three d i f fer ent candl e-holder s, eacha cla s s i c st udy ingeomet ry , pr opor t ionand compos i t i onusi ng highquality brass. 4. Ouur / Pencil Case: The lightweight functionality of Ouur’s pencil case offers real-time inspiration with plenty of organization.

5. Hay / Starfish Desk Organizer: Hay’s Starfish desk organizer is practically made for that messy creative space or professional corner. It holds business cards, coins, keys—just about anything you’ll need at arm’s reach. 6. Craft Design Technology / Tape Dispenser: Made from Japanese beechwood, this well-crafted tape dispenser perfectly combines strength and flexibility.

7. Hesselgrens / Color Atlas: These are certainly heady times. Understand where we’re going by exploring where we’ve been with this vintage atlas from Hesselgrens. Remember, though: You are here. 8. Hay / Kenzan: Gardens and meadows exist in nature, naturally. Use Hay’s Kenzan to arrange your flowers indoors and keep your greenery from running wild. There’s plenty of time to enjoy the real thing during your next long walk.

9. A Very Merry Every Day to You / Daily Calendar: Designed for maximum customizability for life’s small moments, this hugely popular Japanese planner evolves every year based on customer input. Grab your tomorrow today and get inspired one day at a time. 10. Ouur / Tape Dispenser: Who says mood boards should only exist on a screen? From small tears to big ideas, every creative should have at least one quality tape dispenser. 11. Another Country / Pen Holder: Made from solid maple and brass, this pen holder is part of a set—along with a note holder and paper tray—that includes all the tools you need for a productive day. 12. Craft Design Technology / CDT Scissors: Japanese stationery company Craft Design Technology gives new life to scissors with a bold universal design. Right and left hands welcome.

1. Belamar / Portuguese Sardines: Enjoy this Mediterranean classic anytime, anywhere. Portuguese sardines in soya oil from Belamar are a unique yet perfect addition to any dinner party or early evening craving. 2. La Gondola / Sardine Pate: Founded in the 1930s, La Gondola is one of the oldest fish canneries in Portugal. Enjoy this Mediterranean tradition with friends and taste the history after a long day on the beach.

3. Villa Reale / Orange and Lemon Marmalade: Made with fragrant Sicilian oranges and lemons, Villa Reale’s marmalade adds the perfect bright burst of flavor to any crunchy crostini or tart filling. Close your eyes and imagine the taste of Sicily in every jar. 4. Tartuflanghe / Bouquet Burro con Tartufo: Ideal for seasoning pasta, risotto, meat, eggs and potatoes, this decadent dressing option from Tartuflanghe embelishes all your warm dishes with the delicate aroma of truffles. 5. Alessi / Espresso Maker: Coffee can fuel the mind and run the mouth, that’s for sure. Start your day with an espresso from Alessi and top it off as the sun is setting after a long day of inspiring thoughts and one-of-a-kind experiences.

6. A.C. Perch’s Tehandel / Tea: History doesn’t lie—A.C. Perch is simply the oldest small tea shop in Europe. Try what the Danish producer has to offer, starting with its signature leaf.

STATIONERY

1. Craft Design Technology / Jabara Accordion Letter Set: Made by 110-year-old Haibara Paper Company for Japan’s Craft Design Technology, the Jabara Accordion Letter Set is perfect for on-the-go correspondence, long love letters or quick notes whenever the inspiration strikes. 2. Original Crown Mill / Envelopes: Made in Belgium, Original Crown Mill stationery offers pure cotton or classic tablets and envelopes for any occasion. The quality, elegance and detail won’t go unnoticed.

3. MT / Washi Tape: Colorful and simple, the original Japanese washi tape from MT offers a personal touch to just about anything that needs fastening. From borders and accents to scrapbooks and art projects, it’s a modern classic. 4 & 5. Hay / Pen: Never forget those brilliant ideas again. The Hay pen combines funtionality with a modern aesthetic, offering a sleek, uncomplicated tool for daily use, wherever the thoughts might lead. 6. Craft Design Technology / Notepad: Every great idea starts with a quality notepad. Designed by Japan’s Craft Design Technology, this A5 grid notepad is a perfect travel companion, from office to home.

7. Craft Design Technology / Squared Notebook: Keep the inspiration flowing with Craft Design Technology’s Squared Notebook. Allow your mind to wander and let this simple tool capture the rest in style.

THAT’S A WRAP

1. Illum / Shot Glasses: Toast to any occasion with this Danish classic from Illum. Inspiration and great ideas have been known to start in the company of good friends. 2. Omnipollo / Yellow Belly Stout: This fantastic libation, a collaboration between Omniollo and Buxton Brewery, is brewed to celebrate all things new, open-minded and progressive. Enjoy with a few new friends and let the conversation wander.

3. Hay / Bottle Opener: With an elegant design and smooth touch, this bottle opener from Hay courtesy of designer Shane Schneck proves as useful as it is pleasurable. 4. Areawear / Liquid Body Flask: Designed by The Principals, the Liquid Body Flask from Areawear is a fun pocket flask for any occasion. Using hydroforming technology, surgical- grade stainless steel is molded into a unique shape for each use. 5. Illum / Trophy Jigger: Say hello to this classic conversation starter. Perfect for mixing that congratulatory drink, this brassplated bar jigger comes with three shot measurements. 6. Dodd’s Gin / Small Batch Gin: Dodd’s Gin is simply craft distilling done best, not to mention the soft and smooth choice for winding down your day. This small batch offering from The London Distillery Company is made on the site of a former Victorian dairy in Battersea, South London. Cheers to good times.

CREDITS P. 16–25 Thom Browne Words: David Michon Photography: Zoltan Tombor P. 26–33 Vanessa Traina Words: Shonquis Moreno Photography: Zoltan Tombor Sidebar: Natalya Frederick (p. 29) P. 34–41 Stefano Pilati Words: Molly Mandell Photography: Dennis Weber P. 42–45 Clare Waight Keller Words: David Plaisant Photography: Virginie Katheeb at Cadence Image (p. 42), Ward Ivan Rafik at Cadence Image (p. 43) P. 46–53 Dries Van Noten Words: Tom Morris Photography: Dennis Weber P. 54–59 Yohji Yamamoto Words: Sarah Rowland Photography: Nicolas Guérin Edit: Natalya Frederick P. 60–65 Bouchra Jarrar Words: Sarah Moroz Photography: Nicolas Guérin P. 66–73 Erdem Moralioglu Words: Frankie Mathieson Photography: Marsy Hild Thorsdottir Sidebar: Natalya Frederick (p. 72) P. 74–79 Linda Rodin Words: Frankie Mathieson Photography: Zoltan Tombor P. 80–89

Joe & Charlie Casely-Hayford Words: Sarah Rowland Photography: Marsy Hild Thorsdottir P. 90–95 Kris Van Assche Words: Frankie Mathieson Photography: Dennis Weber Sidebar: Natalya Frederick (p. 92) P. 96–101 Carol Lim & Humberto Leon Words: Frankie Mathieson Photography: Nicolas Guérin Hair and Makeup: Sonia Duchaussoy P. 102–109 Margaret Howell Words: David Plaisant Photography: Daniel Stjerne P. 110–115 Telfar Clemens Words: Laura Rysman Photography: Jacopo Moschin Sidebar: Natalya Frederick (p. 114) P. 116–121 Garance Doré Words: Sarah Rowland Photography: Claire Cottrell Hair and Makeup: Tsipporah Liebman using MAC Cosmetics P. 122–125 Jonathan Anderson Words: Natalie Rigg Photography: Marsy Hild Thorsdottir Sidebar: Natalya Frederick (p. 125) P. 126–131 Lucas Ossendrijver Words: Laura Rysman Photography: Pablo Arroyo (p. 126, 129, 130), James Bort/Courtesy of LANVIN (p. 127) Styling: Jérôme André (p. 126, 129, 130) P. 132–153 Fashion Archive Words: Natalie Rigg Photography: Edward Miller/Keystone/Getty Images (p. 134), Loomis Dean/The LIFE Picture Collection/Getty Images (p. 135), Bettmann/Getty Images (p. 136), Hulton Archive/Getty Images (p. 138, left), Eric Robert/Sygma/Sygma via Getty

Images (p. 138, right), Lipnitzki/Roger Viollet/Getty Images (p. 139, left), Daily Mirror/Mirrorpix/Mirrorpix via Getty Images (p. 139, right), François Pages/Paris Match via Getty Images (p. 140, left), Robert Doisneau/Gamma-Rapho/Getty Images (p. 140, right), François Pages/Paris Match via Getty Images (p. 142), Fred W. McDarrah/Getty Images (p. 144, left), Etienne George/Sygma via Getty Images (p. 144, right), Catherine McGann/Getty Images (p. 145, right), KeystoneFrance/Gamma-Keystone via Getty Images (p. 146), Jack Garofalo/Paris Match via Getty Images (p. 147), François Pages/Paris Match via Getty Images (p. 148), Walter Carone/Paris Match via Getty Images (p. 150), Lipnitzki/Roger Viollet/Getty Images (p. 151), François Pages/Paris Match via Getty Images (p. 152) P. 154–155 Reading List Words: James Burke P. 158–165 Stefano Tonchi Words: Frankie Mathieson Photography: Billy Kidd P. 166–169 Grace Coddington Words: Frankie Mathieson Photography: Fabien Baron (p. 167), Courtesy of Grace: Thirty Years of Fashion at Vogue/Phaidon (p. 168) P. 170–177 Franck Durand Words: Sarah Moroz Photography: Lasse Fløde Sidebar: Natalya Frederick (p. 175) P. 178–183 Veronica Ditting Words: Molly Mandell Photography: Marsy Hild Thorsdottir (p. 178–180, 183), Matthieu Lavanchy (p. 182) Hair: Sabrina Lefebvre P. 184–187 Jefferson Hack Words: Billie Muraben Photography: Andreas Larsson P. 188–191 Imran Amed Words: Molly Mandell Photography: Philip Sinden (p. 189, 190), Thomas Lohr (p. 191) P. 192–201 Mirko Borsche Words: David Michon Photography: Dennis Weber

P. 202–205 Ruba Abu-Nimah Words: Molly Mandell Photography: Julien Boudet P. 206–215 Thomas Persson Words: David Michon Photography: Lasse Fløde P. 216–221 Marie-Amélie Sauvé Words: Sarah Moroz Photography: Craig McDean Sidebar: Natalya Frederick (p. 221) P. 222–229 Masoud Golsorkhi & Caroline Issa Words: Sarah Moroz Photography: Dennis Weber P. 230–239 Fabien Baron Words: Alex Frank Photography: Zoltan Tombor P. 240–243 Kuchar Swara Words: Jason Orlovich Photography: Paul Barbera (p. 240), James Gardiner (p. 241) P. 244–247 Camilla Nickerson Words: Molly Mandell Photography: Mario Sorrenti P. 248–251 Karla Martinez de Salas Words: Molly Mandell Photography: Fernando Marroquin P. 252–271 Publishing Archive Words: Billie Muraben Photography: Vittorio Zunino Celotto/Getty Images for Vogue & The Dubai Mall (p. 254), Vittorio Zunino Celotto/Getty Images (p. 255), Andreas Rentz/Getty Images for amfAR (p. 256), Walter Sanders/The LIFE Picture Collection/Getty Images (p. 258, left), Willy Fleckhaus, der Hersteller Scharlemann und Christian Diener um/about 1964 (p. 259, left), Daily Mirror/Mirrorpix/Mirrorpix via Getty Images (p. 259, right), Kasper Edward, courtesy of the Archives of American Art (p. 260), Photographer unknown, Courtesy of the Archives of American Art (p. 261), John Chillingworth/Picture Post/Hulton Archive/Getty Images (p. 262), Francesco Scavullo/Condé Nast via Getty Images (p. 264, left), Bert Morgan/Getty Images (p.

264, right), George Karger/Pix Inc./The LIFE Images Collection/Getty Images (p. 265, right), Arnold Newman/Getty Images (p. 266), Rowland Scherman/Getty Images (p. 268, right), Jack Robinson/Hulton Archive/Getty Images (p. 270) P. 272–275 Reading List Words: James Burke Photography: Inez & Vinoodh via The Gentlewoman Issue no. 14 (p. 273, top right), Alasdair McLellan via The Gentlewoman Issue no. 16 (p. 273, middle right) P. 278–287 Wayne McGregor Words: Molly Mandell Photography: Marsy Hild Thorsdottir Makeup: Louisa Copperwaite Sidebar: Natalya Frederick (p. 287) P. 288–293 Kris Moran Words: Sarah Rowland Photography: Zoltan Tombor P. 294–303 Devonté Hynes Words: Molly Mandell Photography: Zoltan Tombor P. 304–315 Lernert Engelberts & Sander Plug Words: David Michon Photography: Joakim Heltne P. 316–323 Aurélie Dupont Words: Sarah Moroz Photography: Eric Guillemain Hair: John Nollet Makeup: Aidan Keogh P. 324–337 Todd Tourso Words: Alex Frank Photography: Claire Cottrell P. 338–349 Alonzo King Words: Shonquis Moreno Photography: Gillian Garcia P. 350–357 Chris Dercon Words: Shonquis Moreno Photography: Dennis Weber

Edit: Natalie Rigg P. 358–367 Melina Matsoukas Words: Alex Frank Photography: Gillian Garcia Styling: Mindy Le Brock Hair: Vernon François Makeup: Celina Rodriguez Clothing: Dress by Simon Miller, sweatshirt by Hanna Jewett and belt by Stella McCartney (p. 358, 362), top and suit by Nina Ricci and earrings by Phillip Lim (p. 360, 361), suit by Tibi and earrings by Ariana Boussard-Reifel (p. 363), pants and top by Pari Desai (p. 364) P. 368–373 Alexandre de Betak Words: Laura Rysman Photography: Marsy Hild Thorsdottir P. 374–379 Andy Spade Words: Sarah Rowland Photography: Zoltan Tombor P. 380–385 Stefan Sagmeister & Jessica Walsh Words: Sarah Rowland Photography: Zoltan Tombor P. 386–389 Luca Guadagnino Words: Trey Taylor Photography: Alessio Bolzoni P. 390–429 Entertainment Archive Words: Colleen Kelsey Photography: Bettmann/Getty Images (p. 392), John Springer Collection/CORBIS/Corbis via Getty Images (p. 393), Gjon Mili/The LIFE Picture Collection/Getty Images (p. 394), Ernst Haas/Ernst Haas/Getty Images (p. 396, left), Lipnitzki/Roger Viollet/Getty Images (p. 396, right), John D. Kisch/Separate Cinema Archive/Getty Images (p. 397, left), Hecht/Pix Inc./The LIFE Images Collection/Getty Images (p. 397, right), ABC Photo Archives/ABC via Getty Images (p. 398), Philippe Le Tellier/Paris Match via Getty Images (p. 400), Gjon Mili/The LIFE Picture Collection/Getty Images (p. 402, left), Arnold Newman/Getty Images (p. 402, right), Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images (p. 403, left), Baron/Hulton Archive/Getty Images (p. 403, right), Jack Mitchell/Getty Images (p. 404), Jack Mitchell/Getty Images (p. 406), Herbert Gehr/The LIFE Images Collection/Getty Images (p. 408), Herbert Gehr/The LIFE Images Collection/Getty Images (p. 409), Bettmann/Getty Images (p. 410), Edouard Boubat/Gamma-Rapho/Getty Images (p. 412, left), CBS via Getty Images (p. 412, right), Berenice Abbott/Getty Images (p. 413, left), John Kobal

Foundation/Getty Images (p. 413, right), Columbia Pictures/Getty Images (p. 414), Marianne Rosenstiehl/Sygma via Getty Images (p. 416, left), Paul Slade/Paris Match via Getty Images (p. 416, right), Ray Fisher/The LIFE Images Collection/Getty Images (p. 417, left),Lipnitzki/Roger Viollet/Getty Images (p. 417, right),Arnold Newman/Getty Images (p. 418), Jack Mitchell/Getty Images (p. 420), Norman Parkinson Achive/Iconic Images/Getty Images (p. 422), Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images (p. 423), Robert Doisneau/Gamma-Rapho/Getty Images (p. 424, left), Keystone-France/Gamma-Keystone via Getty Images (p. 424, right), Hulton Archive/Getty Images (p. 426), Allan Grant/The LIFE Picture Collection/Getty Images (p. 427), CBS via Getty Images (p. 428, left), Keystone/Getty Images (p. 428, right) P. 430–431 Reading List Words: James Burke P. 432–443 Inventory Words: Jason Orlovich Photography: Christian Møller Anderson

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS I am deeply grateful to the creative directors who generously opened their studios to share their stories with us. The making of this book has provided me with some of the most humbling and motivating experiences of my life. A speci a l thanks to M ol l y Mandel l for workin g closely by my si de f r om ideat i on to manuscript delivery, vetting every word and image with her editorial eye. Thank you for every late work night, caption and chime from the little gold bell. We share authorship, as this title would not have gone to press without you. Thanks to James Burke, Lena Hunter, Garett Nelson and Jason Orlovich for your meticulous edits and research on our editorial team. Thanks to Alex Hunting for spearheading every detail of publication design from em dash to folio. A wholehearted thanks to the photographers, writers and stylists around the world who so beautifully captured the stories featured in this publication. It continues to be an honor to work with such talent, and I feel privileged to include your work. Thanks to my longtime publisher Lia Ronnen and the team at Artisan—Theresa Collier, Renata Di Biase, Zach Greenwald, Michelle Ishay-Cohen, Bridget Monroe Itkin, Sibylle Kazeroid, Hanh Le, Allison McGeehon and Nancy Murray—for helping me to shape this project into the book I wanted it to be. Thanks also to my colleagues at Kinfolk—Christian Møller Anderson, John Clifford Burns, Julie Cirelli, Jessica Gray, Cecilie Jegsen, Harriet Fitch Little, Frédéric Mähl, Chul-Joon Park, Hanna Rauhala, Kasper Schademan, Aryana Tajdivand-Echevarria and Amy Woodroffe—for continuing as sounding boards and my most trusted critics. Acknowledgements to the agents who made the interviewing process particularly convenient: Alex Alvarez, Iranzu Baker, Anthony Bourgois, Michel Hakimian, Brian Hetherington, Gia Kuan, Jenny Law, Valentine Maroto, Monika Martinez and Kate McCurdy. Thanks to Another Country, Appointed, Craft Design Technology, Jack Davison, Embassy Gr aphi cs, Fl orian Des Biendr as, Kota Engaku, Abby Feather st on e, G- Star, Peter Hildebrandt, Metaphys, Phaidon Press, School House, Dominik Tarabanski, Taschen and Michael Thaulow. Thank you to the people who provide me with endless inspiration: Fredrik Egeland Aartun, Filip Alexander Aurebekk Andersen, Johanna Aurebekk Andersen, Hanna Nova Beatrice, Jonas Bjerre-Poulsen, Cassandra Bradfield , Niels Strøyer Christophersen, Ricky Cohete, Lasse Fløde, Maia Flore, Andrew Gallo, Mathias Mentze, Nicholas Nemechek, Lena Norling, Alexander Vedel Ottensten, Carolyne Rapp, Vi Searle-Williams, Blake Suárez, Olivia Rae James Suárez, Ferry Voorneveld, Ron Williams, Vera Williams, David Winward, Sarah Winward and Diana Yen.*

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Nathan Williams is a Canadian creative director and entrepreneur based in Copenhagen. He is the author of The Kinfolk Table, The Kinfolk Home, and The Kinfolk Entrepreneur. He is also the founder of Kinfolk, a quarterly magazine that since 2011 has becom e a l eading design authori ty, sol d i n over 100 count r ies and connecting a global community of creative professionals from London to Tokyo.

Copyright © 2018 by Nathan Williams For photography credits, see here. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced—mechanically, electronically, or by any other means, including photocopying—without written permission of the publisher. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file. eISBN 9781579658878 Design by Alex Hunting Cover illustration by Jack Davison For speaking engagements, contact [email protected]. Published by Artisan A division of Workman Publishing Co., Inc. 225 Varick Street New York, NY 10014-4381 artisanbooks.com Artisan is a registered trademark of Workman Publishing Co., Inc. Published simultaneously in Canada by Thomas Allen & Son, Limited