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FALL 2018
WHAT TO WEAR NOW
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CONTENTS
GQ STYLE FALL 2018
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SEE ADDITIONAL CREDITS.
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r a l p h l a u r e n . c o m /
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CONTENTS
GQ STYLE FALL 2018 WHAT TO WEAR NOW— LABELS ON FIRE: STARRING BOXING CHAMPIONS THE YOUNG-AMERICANS EDITION THE CHARLO TWINS
AN ENDLESS PARTY IN PARIS
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THE NOMADIC MIND OF HAIDER ACKERMANN P112
PORTRAIT MODE: ARTIST HENRY TAYLOR GETS HIS DUE
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COVER STORY:
TYLER THE CREATOR P128
THE RADICAL O.G.’S OF STREETWEAR: A GQ STYLE ROUNDTABLE
P142 FALL 2018
WHAT TO WEAR NOW
ON THE COVER Photograph by Matthieu Venot
THE BRUTAL WONDERS OF THE ARCHITECTURE WORLD
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FLY FALL FASHION IN DAKAR, SENEGAL
P152
THE RETURN OF THE ICONIC Z-CAR
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Tyler The Creator
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jacket $3,645 Brunello Cucinelli sweater $940 Moncler beanie $42 Bricks & Wood watch $2,850 Tudor
GQ St yle
LETTER FROM THE EDITOR
Fall 2018
My Balls and My Word The GQ Style crew and I have been scrambling to finish this issue, with its bold new logo and radical redesign. I also happen to be moving tomorrow, which is inevitably a mega hassle. And I’ve been back and forth to the hospital for the past three days. You see, two weeks ago, in the bathroom of my hotel room in Paris, I noticed an unusual hardness in my left testicle. When I got back to New York, I found a good urologist. And on Tuesday, just a few hours after an initial examination and an intense ultrasound experience (s/o warm ultrasound gel), I stepped out of a meeting at GQ Style headquarters to take a call from the doc. He told me I have testicular cancer. I gazed out the window of my office for a few beats—testicular cancer—then I returned to the meeting. Wednesday brought better news: no cancer markers in my blood. And today, Thursday, still better news: a clean CAT scan. Because I caught it early and saw a doctor fast, the disease doesn’t seem to have spread. If all goes well, after a short operation, I’ll close out next week with one ball and zero cancer. I like that math. Whatever lessons this experience holds for me will surely take time to unpack. But from where I sit now, smack in the middle of it, I feel a sense of groundedness and peace. The shock of this kind of news can be a jolt for people—a wake-up call to stop sleepwalking through life. But so far, anyway, 48 hours of testicular cancer has taught me: (1) When Charles Darwin gave us each two balls, he intended one as a spare. Hallelujah. (2) I’m already pretty close to living every day like it’s my last. Which is to say: Whether I have five months or 50 years left to live, what I care about is my family and my work. Navigating the highs and lows of my diagnosis process over the past few days didn’t make me want to climb Kilimanjaro. Instead, it strengthened my dedication to making this awesome and unlikely magazine. And it reaffirmed my dedication to my universe partner (the state prefers the term “wife”) and our two cats. Plus it has opened up a whole new world of awesomely grim jokes, several of which end with DIS NUT!! (Sorry.) So even if next time you see me I’m walking a little crooked (ha), know that it’s all good, because this experience has only reinforced my confidence that I am who I am who I am until I’m gone. Not even cancer can shake me. Meantime, enjoy the new issue, and when you’re done reading it, be sure to stick a hand down your Will Welch pants and give yourself a diligent fondle. You never Editor-in-Chief know what you might discover. IT’S BEEN A HELL OF A WEEK.
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Photograph by Matthieu Venot
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ABOUT THE COVER
Fall 2018
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1. Many of Matthieu’s photos are taken in Brest, a “basically ugly” Brittany port town that was rebuilt after World War II.
2. “I think colors and geometry are comforting,” says Matthieu, who scouts shots on Google Street View.
3. Tyler, the Creator, used this Matthieu photo as the cover art for his freestyle “Crust in Their Eyes” on YouTube.
Tyler, the Creator, for the cover of this magazine, Matthieu Venot had never taken a professional photograph of a person. “In the beginning, I refused. This is a very big deal—I don’t do portraits!” he recalls from his home in Brest, France. Matthieu’s preferred subjects are instead slices of banal urban landscapes: an abandoned gas station, a column of identical balconies, a lonely ladder. His eye for Instagram-friendly hues in otherwise drab cities has turned him into something of a sensation in the past year. When Tyler suggested Matthieu for the cover shoot, the only person who needed convincing was Matthieu himself. “I love challenges, and I realized this was an opportunity that only happens once in a lifetime,” he says. “But I didn’t sleep for two weeks.” We picked two locations that naturally appealed to Matthieu’s sense of geometry and color: Hôtel Molitor and the Pierre and Marie Curie University campus, both in Paris. The Molitor’s original pool was the place to see and be seen in the Art Deco era; reopened in 2014, it’s like a little Venot-ian paradise in the 16th Arrondissement. As for how Matthieu should approach his very first fashion photographs, Tyler had this advice on set: “Just shoot me like you would shoot a building.” Turn to page 128 to see the results.
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C O U RT E SY O F M AT T H I E U V E N OT ( 3 )
BEFORE SHO OTING
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BOXING’S NEWEST SENSATIONS
The Charlo Twins
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BEST FASHION PIECES OF THE SEASON
PLUS BEST HEAD-TO-TOE DESIGNER LOOKS
P h o t o g raphs by Sebastian Mader
Fall 2018
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Calvin Klein $2,800
Meet the new Gucci loafer. There’s no horse bit in sight, but the old-school two-tone style and iconic monogram make it perfect for this retro-obsessed fashion moment.
MONOGR AM LOAFERS Gucci $950
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SEQUINED RIDER JACKE T Balmain $31,755
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jacket $2,900 shirt $650 pants $950 loafers $790 Bottega Veneta
The art of subtlety is not dead—it’s just taking a break this fall. Which means you should dress up your boldest orange suit with an equally striking shirt.
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WIDE-WALE CORDUROY SUIT
REMIXED
Fall 2018
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Austrian-based designer Kenneth Ize, who hails from Lagos, is leading Africa’s fashion renaissance with his super-chill Nigerian sportswear and tailoring.
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This down parka has a plush exterior, but like the rest of Herno’s made-inItaly technical outerwear, it’s water-repellent and wind-resistant.
CORDUROY
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Fall 2018
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Acne Studios $540
Officer’s
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GQ St yle New York designers Greg Rosborough and Abdul Abasi turned a standard-issue military pant into one of the best pieces of the season, with an anatomical fit and a unique deadstock fabric.
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Barena $565
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LEFT, ON JERMALL
coat $4,195 shirt $654 pants $745 loafers $745 Dolce & Gabbana RIGHT, ON JERMELL
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jacket $3,495 shirt $645 pants $1,195 loafers $945 Dolce & Gabbana
ADVANCED EVENINGWEAR
Domenico Dolce and Stefano Gabbana are no strangers to sumptuous fabrics. This season they went even harder on flashy floral brocade, something the Charlos have no problem pulling off.
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Tribal Print Suit jacket $1,800 shirt $550 pants $750 Dior Homme
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Retro
Fall 2018
GQ St yle In the 1960s, American workwear staples like Levi’s truckers got adopted by Jamaica’s colorful underground music scene; this rude-boy throwback from Levi’s returns the favor.
Levi’s Vintage Clothing $295
Trucker Jacket
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Kim Jones is a globetrotter extraordinaire, and for his final collection at LV he developed trench-coat prints based on photos taken from a helicopter over Kenya.
20 A Turtleneck with a Trench jacket and turtleneck (prices upon request) Louis Vuitton
Fall 2018
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R ALPH TRIBUTE SWEATER
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22 Bottega Veneta $1,550
Ralph Lauren $1,295
Fanny Pack
Only one designer is iconic enough to put his own face on a sweater—and legendary enough that you should absolutely wear it.
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Hermès $1,750
HIKER BOOTS 78
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Opulent Loungewear LEFT, ON JERMALL
coat $3,595 shirt $690 pants $1,050 Versace RIGHT, ON JERMELL
coat $5,650 shirt $1,395 pants $1,050 Versace
Wild and comfy is Versace’s winning combination this season. That means layers of printed silk and rich velvet, equally perfect for a big night out or a chill night in.
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turtleneck $1,290 pants $2,975 Givenchy boots $450 Paul Evans
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THE NEW CLUB KIT 80
Designer Clare Waight Keller looked to 1980s Berlin for the mood, but the high-gloss pants and exotic-print sweater are timeless party clothes.
The father-son duo of London’s CaselyHayford make beautiful tailored clothing—and out-of-this world sportswear, like this bold Aztec-weave jacket.
28 Vibrant Layering jacket $923 track jacket $335 Casely-Hayford sunglasses $665 Mr. Leight
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overcoat $3,570 coat $1,790 shorts $890 shoes (price upon request) hat $330 Prada
LUXURY NYLON
Nylon is Prada’s specialty, and this season Miuccia Prada went all in, crafting entire ensembles—padded shorts included—out of the shiny black fabric.
Fall 2018
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Sies Marjan designer Sander Lak is known for experimenting with unusual colors, and now he’s testing the boundaries of visual perception with this shimmery, chameleonic coat made with nanotech film.
31 Sies Marjan (price upon request)
CAR COAT
TONAL TEXTURE
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vest $2,295 turtleneck $2,195 pants $1,695 boots $1,595 Armani
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Relaxed doesn’t have to be dressed down. Just do it the Armani way, with plush layers of tactile fabrics and a polished pair of boots.
Fall 2018
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Moncler 2 1952 $2,815
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A TOPCOAT
Berluti makes the quiet kind of luxury clothes that don’t need to shout to be heard but certainly don’t go unnoticed. Bonded lambskin has never looked so easy.
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jacket $4,495 (for tuxedo) waistcoat $1,345 shirt $945 bow tie $245 pocket square $125 Brunello Cucinelli
Fall 2018
Mr. Cucinelli is here to elevate your life. Buy this perfect midnight blue dinner jacket and never worry about a black-tie dress code ever again.
Coach $1,800
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Big-Ass Shearling Dirk Bikkembergs (price upon request)
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SHIRT
38 Tod’s $945
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39 Headto-Toe Tweed & Plaid LEFT, ON JERMALL
topcoat $3,495 vest $595 shirt $595 pants $695 tie $235 loafers $895 Ralph Lauren RIGHT, ON JERMELL
sport coat $4,995 vest $695 shirt $350 pants $795 tie $185 Ralph Lauren jewelry throughout, their own
Ralph Lauren may be the greatest American designer of our time, but he’s equally good when he takes you to the English countryside, as he did this season with luxe cashmere suiting in herringbone and tartan.
G R O O M I N G : H E E S O O K W O N U S I N G F R E S H , I N C . P R O P S T Y L I S T : V A N E S S A B A R R A N T E S AT B R Y D G E S M AC K I N N E Y.
loafers, his own
Fall 2018
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Fendi’s “F” monogram has re-emerged as a streetstyle status symbol, but we’re all about Silvia Venturini Fendi’s maximalist fabrics for fall: This wool plaid is accented by a subtle dash of the house’s signature yellow.
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By Kelefa Sanneh P h o t o g r a p hs b y S e b a s t i an Mader Styled by Mobolaji Dawodu
GQ St yle
Jermall Charlo was pointing to a tiny red speck on the white sleeve of his Gucci polo. Jermell Charlo, his twin brother, glanced up from his plate of ravioli— the sauce was the same color as the speck. “I owe you now?” “I need 500,” Jermall said. He wasn’t kidding, but he wasn’t not kidding, either. This is how the Charlo brothers talk, especially to each other: in a constant torrent of provocations, always probing for weakness. Jermall Charlo is a 28-year-old middleweight (160 pounds) boxing champion from Houston, and Jermell is almost exactly the same, except that he is one minute younger and, when he fights, six pounds lighter—a junior middleweight (154 pounds). Boxing championships can be dubious: A number of different organizations distribute championship belts, not always wisely. But these two are unanimously recognized as top-five fighters in their respective divisions and rising stars: accomplished and brash, known roughly equally for impressive victories and nonstop trash talk. The twins were at a fancy Italian restaurant in Los Angeles, where Jermell, notwithstanding the ravioli, was cutting weight for his next fight, which was about a week away. The fight was at the Staples Center, where the Lakers play, although it was not the main event; Jermell’s name and face were on billboards around town, but not very prominently. He claimed he didn’t care. “It’s a doubleheader,” he said, and he boasted that fans might leave once he was done. He was fighting a respected veteran named Austin Trout, whom Jermall had already beaten, by 12-round decision, in 2016. Jermell was planning to win by knockout, thereby outdoing his big brother—maybe even proving he was the big brother. “BRUH, LO OK WHAT YOU DID.”
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“Sometimes you knock someone out, At lunch, this suggestion did not go unchallenged. “You ain’t bigger than me,” Jermall said. In response, Jermell flexed, and gazed meaningfully at his left biceps. Sam Watson, a garrulous boxing executive who has worked closely with the brothers, examined them both and burst out laughing. “Man!” he said. “You niggas look the exact same size to me.” The Charlo brothers have been boxing most of their lives: They are technically skilled, but they also fight with the kind of meanness that encourages fans to get carried away and to believe that the two guys in the ring are trying to settle a score, rather than just trying to win an athletic competition. Perhaps because they are twins, and because they started young, they are used to being thought of
OPENING PAGES, LEFT, ON JERMALL belt $595 Martin Dingman RIGHT, ON JERMELL pants (on both) $1,050 Versace belt $180 Anderson’s jewelry, their own grooming by hee soo kwon using fresh, inc.
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1. Jermall (right) pumps up Jermell before he does battle with Austin Trout at the Staples Center in June. 3. Jermell fires a left hook on his way to a win by decision and a 31-0 record.
2. Jermell enters the arena with a not-so-subtle homage to his and Jermall’s #LionsOnly socialmedia tag. 4. So far the Charlos are undefeated. The only fighter they wouldn’t dream of challenging? Each other.
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Fall 2018
as tagalong kids—and are sick of it. They seem convinced that they are never given enough respect or attention. Last year, at Barclays Center in Brooklyn, Jermell knocked out a previously undefeated prospect named Erickson Lubin. Jermell knocked him out in the first round, with a sneaky inside right hand that dropped Lubin not on his back but on his side, half stiff and still in his fighting crouch, frozen. This should have been a triumphant moment, but during the post-fight interview, both Charlos looked as if they were ready to fight some more—as if the knockout hadn’t been enough. “They threw a chair at my brother!” said Jermell. Jim Gray, the interviewer, turned toward Jermall, who had climbed back into the ring. “Are you okay?” he said. Jermall glared at Lubin, who had wobbled back to his corner. “I’m good,” Jermall said. “Is he okay?” He kept glaring at Lubin. “Is you okay?” known for making a scene wherever they go, and when they arrived at a studio in Culver City for their GQ Style shoot, they were cheerful and characteristically confident. “My mom just picked up my lion head,” Jermell announced—back in Texas, he had commissioned a special prop for his grand entrance at Staples Center. The brothers’ careers have been guided by Al Haymon, one of the most powerful men in boxing (he helped Floyd Mayweather earn his fortune) and one of the most reclusive. Haymon stopped by the shoot, wearing a baggy suit and an indulgent smile, and the THE CHARLO BROTHERS ARE
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sometimes you just beat ’em.”
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brothers seemed flattered that he had taken the time to come, perhaps because it suggested that they were among his top priorities. At 28, the Charlos are on the verge of joining the boxing elite—so long as they keep winning. (In boxing, it can take years to rebuild after a single loss, and many fighters never do.) Jermall’s division, middleweight, includes two of the sport’s biggest stars, Saúl “Canelo” Álvarez and Gennady “GGG” Golovkin, who are scheduled to meet in September; he is eager to fight either one. The brothers are finally in their professional prime, which means that the next few perilous years will determine how much money they make and how much damage they sustain. Between sittings, Jermell told Haymon about his lion head. “I spent a lot of money on that shit,” he said. It was probably a good investment: The next week, at Staples Center, Jermell entered the ring like African royalty, with a furry coat to match his lion head. The fight itself, broadcast on Showtime, wasn’t quite so memorable: Jermell twice knocked down Trout but didn’t hurt him badly, and won by decision, much as his brother had two years earlier. “I know they’re used to seeing me knock them boys out,” Jermell shouted during his post-fight interview. “Sometimes you knock someone out, sometimes you just beat ’em.” Fans booed, perhaps because they had been hoping for a knockout, or perhaps because they had been against Jermell from the start—not a few people find the Charlos obnoxious. But in boxing, being reviled can be nearly as lucrative as being adored. The Charlos have put themselves on a pedestal. Soon we will find out whether anyone can knock them off. K E L E FA S A N N E H I S A S TA F F W R I T E R AT T H E N E W Y O R K E R .
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LABELS ON
The new wave of emerging American designers has impeccable taste, exacting standards for quality, and a knack for storytelling. These are the homegrown brands to watch.
FIRE 94
BODE
Fall 2018
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studio is truly a beautiful mess. Chinatown-plaid totes overflow with fabric swatches, and the quilts that Bode turns into extracovetable shirts and jackets are stacked on every available surface. It’s impossible to navigate through the space without bumping into something that will, a few months from now, be worn by an up-andcoming artist, or a street-style legend, or maybe even a celebrity hosting SNL. (That’s right: Donald Glover wore a pair of Bode pants during his hosting gig back in May.) Although she just moved in, it’s not hard to imagine that Bode, a 29-yearold Atlanta native, will have to go through this again soon, finding another, larger studio just as she gets the walls painted and the custom wooden shelving installed. Things are moving that quickly. Bode the brand started as a college project, when Bode the designer was at Parsons. After stints as a stylist and a retail consultant, she sent her own line—boxy, workwear-inspired clothes crafted from deadstock quilts and fabrics—out into
EMILY BODE’S NEW
Crafting a Bright Future for Menswear, One Antique Quilt at a Time
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the world in 2016. And until this spring, she was still doing it all out of her apartment on Manhattan’s Lower East Side. “I had three racks in my bedroom. It wasn't working,” she explains, laughing. “Everyone was working on my bed. It just got super frustrating. You can't live like that.” It should be said: This much success this quickly is a rarity in the world of fashion. But somehow it makes sense for Bode. Like the best in her line of work, she taps into something unusually deep with her clothes. The quilted jackets, kimono-silk shirts, and former-tablecloth pants all seem to come from their own hermetically sealed universe—one where fashion isn’t disposable and logo-ridden but rather a true craft, passed down through generations. “When you buy into something that you would put on your wall as much as you would put in your closet, that’s really important to me,” she says. Bode’s mission is humble. “We're founded on bringing domestic textiles into clothing,” she says. “People respond to it because they grew up with it, or they have a relationship
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1. Emily Bode in her Lower East Side apartment, where she started her brand in 2016. 2. Bode’s one-of-a-kind coats are like time capsules of America’s rich textile tradition, made using historical pieces and deadstock fabrics that she finds and re-purposes. 3. A look from Bode’s fall-winter 2018 look book. Now that she has expanded into developing her own fabrics, the line includes high-waisted trousers, three-button suits, and lacy shirts.
to it, down to our hangers.” The execution, meanwhile, is increasingly sophisticated. Bode continues to collect perfect old bits of fabric, but in order to sustain the thriving business—the brand sells on its own website but also has a growing list of wholesale accounts with impressive retailers like Opening Ceremony and Totokaelo—she’s started reproducing beloved quilts in India and creating her own prints and fabrics. “We function more like an antiques store than we do a menswear company,” she says. Which is a novel idea and adds to the image of Bode as a kindly crafter, painstakingly restoring quilts in a cramped studio. But if you’d like to see the typically mellow Bode get fired up, ask her how she plans to expand. That fabric development and the made-in-India reproduction? Emily Bode is already scaling up. She hasn’t yet taken on an outside investment; things are advancing, but at a comfortable rate. “I don’t want to just expand because there’s noise about the brand and press,” she says. “I want this to be something that has a really big future.” — S A M S C H U B E
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EVAN KINORI Painstakingly Constructed Clothes from the Mind of a Skater
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1. Evan Kinori in his San Francisco workshop and showroom. His label is stocked by stores in New York City, Antwerp, Tokyo, and Rome. 2. Kinori’s collection is like a tightly edited wardrobe, and each piece is designed to layer seamlessly with the rest of the line. 3. “There is no specific recipe to make a good piece,” Kinori says. He doesn’t just design; he cuts patterns and sews samples himself: “In this way there is a lot of integrity and continuity from idea to finished product.”
spend years skating city streets like Evan Kinori has, shredding through gear and sneakers, you learn a lot about how clothes are constructed. “There’s something about skateboarding that causes you to be really neurotic and picky about your kit all the time,” says the 30-year-old San Francisco–based designer, who has blown out his fair share of skate pants. Kinori is a true skate disciple—he even entertained the idea of taking a shot at going pro at one point. It’s not a contrived image that he created for his brand. In fact, clothing design was never really part of the plan. But when Kinori was in San Francisco studying philosophy at a liberal-arts school—the pro-skater idea had fallen by the wayside—he happened to pop into West Coast menswear mecca Unionmade, which stocks lovingly constructed American and
TURNS OUT, WHEN YOU
Japanese workwear brands. “For me, who knew nothing about fashion or designers or anything, I saw that there was such thing as high-end small brands that were all about the product,” he says. And that set him on a new path. It was a revelation that helped spur him to dive into the wide world of men’s fashion—where not much lived up to his exacting standards. “I never found product that reflected the little nuances that I wanted,” he says. Instead he found himself in a “really goofy” intro-to-fashion class at a local community college, which, despite a curriculum including an Yves Saint Laurent documentary, convinced him that he wanted to make clothes himself. Most skaters who start fashion lines churn out graphic-design-forward collections of tees and hoodies. Kinori instead wanted to emulate the simple, durable styles of the early 2000s, when parks were full of army shirts and work pants. “The best skaters, or the ones I looked up to, dressed pretty unique,” he says. After enrolling in trade school to learn patternmaking and finding a local sewing operation, Kinori launched his eponymous brand in 2015 with a handful of workwear silhouettes made from deadstock and end-of-roll fabrics he tracked down in the fading corners of San Francisco’s garment district. Now each season brings fresh, more ambitiously sourced fabrics—from olive green Japanese typewriter cloth to bright red Italian Casentino wool—and a new style or two. “If it’s what I want to wear every day, then I want that in a bunch of different fabrics that give it different identities,” Kinori says. Between the pocketed field shirt, clean car coat, and elegant single-pleat pants, Kinori has devised a clever system for dressing, with pieces that can be worn as tonal suits or
mixed and matched seamlessly. But for Kinori, the goal is not to push a uniform. “I don’t like the idea of selling a style to people,” he says. “I would rather make a good product, and then you can re-interpret it.” Purveyors of relentlessly independent style, like Dover Street Market and Antwerp’s Atelier Solarshop, have caught on, stocking Kinori’s fatigues alongside runway fashions. And yes, Kinori skates in most of his own gear: “Nothing gets added unless I’m making it for myself.” — S A M U E L H I N E
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COBRA S.C.
a little…off about Cobra S.C. On its face, the brand launched last year by Safa Taghizadeh and Christopher Reynolds is rather ordinary: a producer of premium Italian-made men’s shirting. But without any marketing push or obvious brand-building efforts, its founders have turned it into something unexpectedly, appealingly enigmatic. It all began with a shared appreciation for the style of musicians Nick Cave and his Bad Seeds bandmate Warren Ellis and an aspiration to create a collection of shirts and suits that would capture a bit of their louche attitude. For the fledgling label, launching with shirts was the best way to get off the ground. “To start as a young brand and to make even one product at a high level is very difficult,” says Reynolds. “We wanted to produce in Italy. Living in New York and building all those relationships, working on prototypes—it’s an extensive process. It made sense to us to start with shirts.” One product with one specific focus in mind: quality. Taghizadeh and Reynolds source materials from the best Italian mills and employ a factory that works with the top luxury labels in the world. “You can’t cut any corners,” says Taghizadeh. “The result is something that you can not only see but—most importantly—feel a difference in when you’re wearing it.” That feeling is somewhere between unabashedly opulent and totally casual. “You can’t really capture this in a look book or marketing campaign, but we hope our customers experience it when they wear our clothes,” Reynolds says. “And then when you make something well
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with the right materials, it lasts forever and gets better with age.” “Unfortunately,” adds Taghizadeh, “I think our generation is losing that a bit. We buy fast and want it to be inexpensive.” With much of the fashion world focusing on hyped-up weekly drops and influential celebrity co-signs, the Cobra approach feels fresher than anything right now. All that said, the brand is cloaked in an undeniable and mysterious shroud of cool. The “about” page of its website—which has the incredible URL cobra.global—is at the moment just an embedded link to Australian postpunk Rowland S. Howard’s 1999 album, Teenage Snuff Film. If that reference is too obtuse for you, how’s this: When asked about inspirations, Reynolds name-checks none other than legendary pro wrestler Andre the Giant. “Growing up in Kansas, I was clearly a wrestling fan—long live the Wolfpac,” he says. “But I’d never seen Andre outside of the ring. His look was incredible. Not just the clothing, but the way he carried himself.” So there’s your image of the Cobra man: Andre the Giant, all seven feet four inches, 520 pounds of him, looking like a sophisticated gangster in a leopardprint silk shirt or a plush cotton velvet pajama top. As for what else he may be wearing, trousers and suiting are on the way. Reynolds and Taghizadeh will soon relocate to Puglia, Italy, where they can be closer to Cobra’s manufacturers to oversee the future. “We’ve finally got the full look we set out for,” Reynolds says, “but we want to keep pushing it.” — N O A H J O H N S O N
T H ES E PAG ES : S E E A D D I T I O N A L C R E D I TS.
An Enigmatic Shirtmaker That’s Insanely Luxurious and a Little Weird
Fall 2018
3 4
1. Safa Taghizadeh (left) and Christopher Reynolds (right) with actor Cosme Castro, who appeared in Cobra S.C.’s first look book. 2. Nick Cave and Warren Ellis show off how they wear their shirts: with a chestbaring, DGAF attitude.
3. A look from Cobra S.C.’s fall-winter 2018 campaign. 4. Legendary electric-blues musician Cash McCall captures the Cobra vibe— manly, louche, and super chilled out.
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Savoir Vivre: Welcome to Paris’s Delicious, WineSoaked, NeverEnding 102
Photographs by Arnaud Pyvka
GQ Style | Nightlife
Block
Party
GQ St yle | Nightlife
Fall 2018
SOMETIME IN THE PAST five years, the Paris night-
bird shop, into a Neapolitan pizza joint. Arnaud called
life scene began to change. A good evening out in the
it Da Graziella, after his Italian girlfriend (now wife),
City of Light used to mean submitting to the mercy of
Graziella Buontempo, who runs the place and helps
a relentlessly choreographed Michelin-starred temple
source the simplest, most authentic ingredients from
of haute cuisine, or stopping by the local brasserie for
her native Naples. In a city where good pizza is hard to
homey beef entrecôte or duck à l’orange, before hit-
find, Da Graziella was a revelation.
ting the same handful of smoky clubs. But now young
Shortly thereafter, Arnaud met a hungry 23-year-
hospitalité whizzes are bringing a new energy to the
old chef named Pierre Touitou, whom he installed in
city. Nowhere is this more apparent than on a quiet
the cramped kitchen of the other restaurant, which
stretch of the narrow Rue des Petites Écuries, which
he opened as Vivant in 2016. Pierre’s father is A.P.C.
runs for three short blocks from the western edge of
founder Jean Touitou, so it’s somewhat fitting that
Paris’s Tenth Arrondissement. It’s an unlikely port of
Pierre, whose cuisine integrates his Tunisian heritage
call for the city’s stylish creative class. But almost
with his obsession for all things Japan, likes to send out
every night of the week they flock to one of the street’s
small plates in a style he calls sur-mesure: Tell him what
graffitied corners, where the four main ingredients for
you like and he’ll tailor a menu for you on the fly. Tending
an unforgettable hang, the kind where anything could
bar is sommelier Clément Jeannin, who sources vin from
happen, are squeezed into a few adjacent storefronts:
small-scale natural-wine producers across Europe.
a 22-seat restaurant, a natural-wine bar, a Neapolitan
Needless to say, wine is kind of Savoir Vivre’s thing.
pizzeria, and a bite-size discotheque.
As is a good all-night rager at Hôtel Bourbon,
Similar joints exist across Paris, but what sets
Arnaud’s third property, which inhabits the basement
Savoir Vivre’s apart is that all four of its venues—
of the old Bronco space. The club is the beating heart
Vivant, Déviant, Da Graziella, and Hôtel Bourbon—
of the Savoir Vivre experience. It was originally a syna-
are owned by 30-year-old Arnaud Lacombe, who, by
gogue, then a hotel for the first half of the 20th century;
a mixture of luck and an intuitive sense of how young
Arnaud and Guillaume kept the original mosaics and
people like to party, did the opposite of what most
woodwork and added thrifted artworks, custom-made
restaurateurs do. Rather than expand his empire
furniture, and rare midcentury pieces. Since hosting its
across a city, he and his crew of youthful hedonistic
first party, in October 2017, Hôtel Bourbon has become
aesthetes concentrated it into one block.
a clubhouse for the French fashion elite and celebs
Arnaud’s food-and-libation kingdom is called Savoir
like Kid Cudi and Emily Ratajkowski, but Guillaume and
Vivre, which literally translates to “knowing how to
Arnaud make sure the 200 guests who make it past the
live.” Though he didn’t plan to create one of the city’s
velvet rope represent Paris’s socio-cultural flavor.
most raucous nightlife destinations, Arnaud was
The final member of the Savoir Vivre family is Déviant,
determined to design an experience around some-
which uncorked its first bottle earlier this year. It’s
thing he thought was too hard to find in Paris: pure
where you’ll find Clément’s extensive wine selects and
pleasure. It started in 2015, when he was trying to fig-
tapas-like small bites at a standing-room-only late-
ure out a new angle for his restaurant Bronco and its
night bar that opens directly onto the street. And there
unused basement. That’s also when he met Guillaume
you have the ultimate Paris party game plan, a road
Le Donche, a Paris-club impresario who now creative-
map for how to enjoy life in style. But do any Parisians
directs Hôtel Bourbon. “Arnaud understood that the
really spend a whole day on Rue des Petites Écuries,
‘coolness’ of Paris’s once defining neighborhoods was
eating pizza Margherita at Da Graziella for lunch, hav-
being swiftly redesigned under the impulse of gentri-
ing a glass of Vincent Charlot at Déviant, tucking into
fication and new cultures,” Guillaume says.
whatever Pierre is braising and torching for dinner
So Arnaud bought two sleepy restaurants on the
at Vivant, and then hitting Hôtel Bourbon till the sun
same block and decided to do something drastically
comes up? “A lot of friends do it almost every day,” says
un-French: turn one of them, originally a Belle Époque
Arnaud. “You can ask their accountants.”
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—SAMUEL HINE
The fresh ingredients for Hôtel Bourbon’s cocktails are delivered each morning.
At always-packed Déviant, your table should contain a splendid collection of glassware. Like so.
Before the Vivant kitchen was renovated this summer, Pierre Touitou cooked with “two stovetops, a broken oven, and three blowtorches.”
“The Tenth is a cultural melting pot, mixing trendy and trashy with traditional locations,” says Arnaud Lacombe, “which brings a strong natural energy to the area.”
Clément Jeannin (right) is a master stuntman, Thai boxer, and party protagonist.
What gets Clément excited about wine? “The vibrations, emotions, and person behind the wine.”
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GQ Style | Nightlife
Guillaume Le Donche, Arnaud, and Pierre hold court at the local café, where they meet for coffee every morning. Owing to Pierre’s familial connection, the denizens of Petites Écuries wear a lot of A.P.C.
GQ St yle | Nightlife
Hôtel Bourbon, which Arnaud and Guillaume call “a house for sleepless souls,” opens its doors at midnight and kicks everyone out around 6 a.m.
Da Graziella’s fearless pizzaiolo, Francesco.
Graziella Buontempo, lounging outside her eponymous pizza parlor.
Fall 2018
On Friday nights you’ll find the Savoir Vivre team at Hôtel Bourbon, shaking off their 18-hour workdays.
It’s snout-to-tail cooking for Pierre, who cut his teeth at Plaza Athénée under Phillipe Marc.
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GQ Style | Nightlife
The close quarters at Vivant and Déviant (shown here) force Pierre and his team to prepare deceptively complicated dishes using simple techniques.
French food guide Le Fooding called Da Graziella’s pies the “best pizza in Paris.”
Fall 2018
Hôtel Bourbon has become the go-to spot for Paris Fashion Week afterparties for the likes of Miu Miu and Nike.
Hôtel Bourbon’s ’70s interior vibe was inspired by Italian designer/ photographer Willy Rizzo, who was “probably a man who loved good things, exactly like us,” says Guillaume.
No matter what’s going on in the kitchen, Pierre and the Vivant staff always holler “Bonsoir! Bienvenue!” when a guest enters the restaurant.
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GQ St yle | Style Profile
The
Nomadic B y N o a h Johnson
of
Mind
Haider Ackermann A RO U N D T H E WO R L D AND BAC K AG AIN WITH THE ROM ANTIC, U N C O M P RO M I S I N G D R E A M E R OF MENSWE AR.
Photographs by Luc Coiffait
Fall 2018
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It’s brought him to some interesting places. Today he’s in Paris, where he has lived and worked for the past eight years. That’s the longest time he’s spent anchored in one location—ever. “I’m not ready to move,” he tells me. We’re walking along the busy Rue Saint-Honoré on a sunny summer day. “Unless…unless there is a new love affair—and then I’m out of here again.” Ackermann’s most recent love affair didn’t take him away from Paris. If anything, it helped him create a deeper connection to the city. It lasted nearly two years—three seasons, in fashion-speak—and ended with a public breakup that, considering the tumultuous state of the industry in 2018, wasn’t exactly surprising but was, for many people, hugely disappointing. So how did he end up as creative director of Berluti in the first place? “It was something which was unexpected,” he says. He’d had other offers. Margiela approached him at one point to take the reins. And there were women’s designer brands knocking on his door. But Berluti, the 120-year-old French label best known for making exquisitely crafted leather shoes (the house had hardly any menswear offerings up until about 2012, when it launched its first-ever men’s ready-to-wear HAIDER ACKERMANN FOLLOWS HIS HEART.
collection), offered him something the others couldn’t. And it wasn’t just money. For Ackermann, a true romantic, it couldn’t be. “If I had done things for financial reasons,” he says, “I would have accepted different things.” But with Berluti, “I was very intrigued and disturbed. And everything which intrigues and disturbs me always wakes up my curiosity.” So in the fall of 2016, he took the job and began his work. Ackermann’s three Berluti collections established a convincing new sartorial identity for the contemporary professional male of limitless financial means. “He was giving a modern touch to the classic luxury brand,” his friend the stylist and editor Robert Rabensteiner told me. “He was bringing a different silhouette to the luxury product.” The clothes were brazenly decadent—caramel lambskin trench coats (see page 85), gold silk blazers, shimmering velvet suits, all cut with Ackermann’s signature slouch—and confidently relaxed, but with a serious, unfussy manner to suit the price tag. “There was always this kind of madness in my world. This daydreamer,” Ackermann says. “And now I was anchored in reality. Business. It was a goal for me to show I can do different things and I can talk about this man who is standing straight in this reality.” While he worked away on Berluti, Ackermann continued his eponymous label, which he began with a women’s collection in 2003, followed by a men’s in 2010. And so he became another one of fashion’s multifaceted, creative businessmen, in the mold of Marc Jacobs
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On his morning walks to work, Ackermann finds inspiration for his next collection by letting his thoughts wander. Then, he says, “I write everything down and communicate this with my team. And they’re like, What’s going on?”
Fall 2018
at Louis Vuitton or Raf Simons at Calvin Klein, ambitiously juggling the high-profile corporate job with the self-built brand. And he was unfazed by the workload: “You know when you just had a new lover? You’re so tired that you forget about being tired, you forget about everything, because you’re just simply too excited. So yeah, it was a lot. But the excitement makes you forget.”
that, in the mid-’90s, brought Ackermann to Antwerp, Belgium, where he studied fashion design at the prestigious Royal Academy of Fine Arts. He was asked to leave after three years. “I was not the most proper student,” he says, “due to my insecurities, because when you’re insecure you don’t want to share things. So I preferred to hide away, and I did everything on my terms.” I T WA S A N OT H E R LOV E A F FA I R
Ackermann was born in Colombia and was adopted as a baby by a white French family. He has a brother and a sister, also adopted, one from Korea, one from Vietnam. His father worked as a cartographer who traveled the world making maps, and the family went with him. They lived in the Netherlands and across Africa. “When I was younger, I didn’t see any creativity in his work,” Ackermann said when I asked him about his father. “But obviously there is. We all try to find our way. We all escape ourselves. He traveled to so many countries. It’s a way of escaping where he was coming from—from this little village in the north of France, in Alsace—to escape his youth. Whatever I do, it’s a way to escape.” Living this way, observing people and cultures, from Algeria to the Sahara, made Ackermann sensitive to the movement of textiles and
“There was always this kind of madness in my world. This daydreamer. And with Berluti, I was anchored in reality. Business.”
Ackermann says that after eight years, he has no plans to leave Paris. Unless, of course, he finds love elsewhere. “It makes me sound like a romantic fool, which is not the case.”
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Ackermann’s collections are maximal, but his Paris office is nearly empty. “I need peace,” he says. “I need a place to quiet down.”
how people cover themselves. “It was always about women being hidden beneath fabric,” he says. “There was something mysterious. You never knew who the woman was underneath. And that mystery, I think, is why I’m now doing fashion, because I thought I would discover more about the woman than anything else.” Perhaps this made Ackermann alive to his own interior world, a world of his own creation, the result of a lifetime spent as a perpetual foreigner. “When you’re living in so many different countries where you don’t speak much of the language at first, you build up your own cocoon. You’re living in your own world,” he says. “So being the observer and trying to understand how people are communicating or adapting to themselves, it was my way to infiltrate.” In Antwerp and untethered from the Royal Academy, Ackermann worked at clubs and restaurants, and he lost himself deep in the city’s nightlife scene. Then Raf Simons, whom he’d met at school, encouraged him to develop and launch his collection. Haider Ackermann was the eccentric maximalist before eccentric maximalism was a craze. His collections are, and always have been, raffish and boozy, with the stylish, louche energy of his inspirations Keith Richards and David Bowie, but also a youthful freshness that’s just as fly on someone like model and international cool guy Luka Sabbat. You likely won’t see a chunky dad sneaker in Ackermann’s showroom. (“How many more sneakers can you have in the world?”) Instead, he is the silky, slouchy, velvety drape god, and when all the
trends have come and gone, his very specific, sexy—yes, his men’s clothes are sexy as hell—elegance will remain.
at Berluti was brief and ended abruptly. As LVMH—the largest luxury conglomerate on earth, under the leadership of Bernard Arnault, the richest man in France—underwent a complete overhaul of its men’s fashion business, Ackermann was restructured out of a job. “You don’t want love affairs to end that soon, that abruptly,” he says. But when we arrive at his studio and office at the end of our walk, I note that he’s still wearing Berluti from head to toe and that there’s a stack of Berluti shoeboxes in his office. “It’s like when you break up but you still love the person you had been with,” he says. “I’m still close with all my exes. I’m proud of the work that I did with the team at Berluti.” The end result of LVMH’s creative-director shuffle is, in fact, one of the most significant changes to happen in the history of men’s fashion. Kim Jones was elevated from his role as top dog for the men’s division at Louis Vuitton (the LV in LVMH) to Dior, and Virgil Abloh was put in his place, making Abloh the first-ever African-American in such a position at a European luxury house. Kris Van Assche, who was in charge of Dior men’s for 11 years, took over at Berluti. If Ackermann holds a grudge against those designers or the industry, he hides it well. He was present to support Jones at his Dior runway debut in June, and he was wearing a pair of Abloh-designed, Abloh-inscribed Converse when we met. “It’s an interesting moment,” he says. Whatever the outcome, he seems excited by what the future holds. “All for good reason. Newness is what fashion is about, anyway. People come and go, and there are new stories, and it continues. And that’s fair enough.” At a Haider Ackermann show, whether for his own label or for Berluti, you experience firsthand—and hear in the applause at the end—just how devoted and loving Ackermann’s community is. It’s easy to see how his somewhat transient youth has led him to invest emotionally in connections with people. Kanye West and Nicki Minaj were early supporters. And he has built deep friendships with celebrities who have chosen him to style them (“I never contacted them. I would never dare. I’m far too shy for it”), including his primary muse to any observer, Tilda Swinton, and the young movie star Timothée Chalamet. Ackermann and Chalamet have become one of the most endearing celebrity-fashion friendships of the Instagram age. “Timo,” Ackermann says. “My little bro.” Chalamet wore Berluti designed by Ackermann for one of his first red-carpet events, the premiere of Call Me by Your Name, at the Berlin film festival, and again for the 2018 Oscars, where Chalamet was up for Best Actor alongside Gary Oldman and Daniel Day-Lewis. The white tux he wore was a confident—maybe even iconic—look for the 22-year-old. “He was the young dude between all those massive actors,” says Ackermann. “I wanted him to be pure. We did it, and we built up this story together. It’s a beautiful friendship.” ACKERMANN’S TENURE
was invited back to his birth country to be celebrated and ordained as cultural ambassador of Colombia, an honor he holds along with Gabriel García Márquez and Fernando Botero. “For them, I’m a Colombian who followed his dreams and, despite everything, made it happen for himself,” Ackermann says. Because of his IN 2013, ACKERMANN
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unconventional childhood, he feels like a stranger wherever he goes. But in Colombia it was different: “There was something smooth about it. I didn’t have to prove that I was coming from them. There was already something that felt quite home. There was an easiness toward it.” According to the Internet, Ackermann is 47. He sports century-old wire-rimmed glasses, a trimmed mustache, and a short crop of curly jet-black hair that remains cherubic. He’s often dressed like a clone of one of his runway models: silk scarf belt, drop-crotch trousers, a buoyant-looking bomber jacket. Ackermann has said that with his men’s line, he is searching for himself, someone he would like to be. But today he says, “Just give me a white T-shirt, black trousers, and a nice pair of shoes, and I’m fine.” In a week, he’ll embark on one of his now legendary “family” vacations with his closest friends, actor-designer Waris Ahluwalia, designer Umit Benan, stylist Robert Rabensteiner, and Tilda Swinton. Together they’ve been to Thailand, the Maldives, Bhutan, India, Kenya… “So we’re all leaving next week to Turkey, I think,” he says. You think? At some point, exact details simply matter less. “It’s just about gathering. It’s about getting together, exchanging moments. We get a big house, get together and…dance.” Ackermann seems to have a special ability to form loyal, lasting relationships. Perhaps that’s why he keeps the stack of Berluti shoeboxes in his office. “These moments that we are very free,” Rabensteiner tells me by phone, after their time together in Turkey (“Four endless days,” according to Ackermann). “We let go of our daily life for work and we don’t try to talk too much about work, but we talk about the beauty surrounding us.” When I ask Ackermann how many languages he speaks, he says “not many,” then proceeds to use fingers on both hands to count them. I think that his unique vision for style—a fusion of so many far-flung and distinct things that it seems like something entirely original—must come from his having wandered the world, the son of a mapmaker, finding his way and discovering new things about people and about himself as he’s gone along. “To belong nowhere and everywhere at the same time—there’s quite a sense of freedom to it,” he says. But doesn’t he ever get tired of always being in motion? Isn’t it nice to sometimes stop and have a minute to himself? “The moment you are high in the clouds on a mountain in Bhutan is also this moment that you are perhaps closer to yourself,” he says. “Because you are in
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G RO O M I N G : G I U L I O PA N C I E R A AT D E FA CTO
“To belong nowhere and everywhere at the same time—there’s quite a sense of freedom to it.”
such a quiet place. You’re closer to yourself than you would ever be in Paris, because in Paris you’re confronted with daily life. But up there you have time to reflect and to think. The distance might be further away, but it’s so much more close to home.” When you’ve lived all over the world, when you’ve been the creative director of a luxury brand, when you’ve chased love across as many borders as Ackermann has, home is on top of a mountain in Bhutan—or wherever the next journey, or love affair, might take him. Ackermann
says that if he could do it all again with Berluti, he absolutely would. He says this with such certainty that I feel compelled to ask, Do you have something lined up? “We’ll see,” he says. “Everything is moving in fashion, and that’s what fashion is about. So we are all there at some point, and we are all gone at some point.” N OA H J O H N S O N I S A G Q ST Y L E S E N I O R E D I TO R .
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B R U T A L 120
GQ St yle | Architecture
How these menacing towers of raw concrete that just a few short years ago were considered the ugliest buildings in the world became highly covetable and intensely inuential all over again. By Brad Dunning
of the Architecture World
GQ St yle | Architecture
A S W I T H H AWA I I A N S H I R T S
and Lionel Richie, it’s always a testament to the fickle whims of fashion and fancy when something way out of style becomes so beloved again. Culture is a vulture. In the architecture world, it’s all about the re-appreciation of brutalism. The revival has been relatively swift—the verdict swinging from condemnation and demolition to idolatry and reverence over the course of a few decades. Even Kanye’s new Yeezy office is heavily influenced by the movement. Despite what you might assume, brutalism doesn’t get its name from its aggressively confrontational toughness or unapologetic lack of concern for comfort. It’s not so named because of its savagery or vicious brutishness. The term is simply taken from béton brut, French for “raw concrete.” It’s not about the adjective, man, but the noun. The brutalist movement was popular from the 1950s to the mid-’70s and most often institutionally commissioned—many brutalist structures are schools, churches, public housing, and government buildings. When architectural trends were turning all touchyfeely and old-world-revivalist around the 1980s, the brutalist look was too harsh and abstract, and the style fell out of favor fast. The movement was vilified, and the buildings it yielded became synonymous with crime-ridden, trash-strewn, fluorescently lit, graffitied menaces. (Recall, if you will, the droogs in A Clockwork Orange parading in slow motion alongside Southmere Lake, its banks lined with the grim tower blocks of Thameshead.) Fast-forward a few decades, however, and it’s back as a desired stylistic pose—or perhaps a concrete bunker in which we can all take shelter.
Fall 2018 Brutalism is the techno music of architecture, stark and menacing. Brutalist buildings are expensive to maintain and difficult to destroy. They can’t be easily remodeled or changed, so they tend to stay the way the architect intended. Maybe the movement has come roaring back into style because permanence is particularly attractive in our chaotic and crumbling world. Like the original noble intentions of left-leaning midcentury-modern structures, which were meant for the Everyman but have now often ended up serving as luxury status symbols, brutalist architecture— especially the few homes and converted commercial buildings that people can actually live in today—is pounced on by aesthetically focused elites. And, as is the case when any style is on the cusp of populist rediscovery, it is also simultaneously on the edge of obliteration by those who have not yet caught on to its value. (Just do some reading online about the battle for Paul Rudolph’s Orange County Government Center in New York.) Not surprisingly, there are feverish arguments over which designers and architects, exactly, qualify as brutalists. The category is broad and ill-defined. I can see why Le Corbusier and Louis Kahn could be included, but I find them too humane. So you won’t find their work in these pages. I like my brutalism, well, really brutal—raw, blocky, cold, and cubistically minimal. It should be kinda scary. It was a daring and exciting architectural movement, and there are few places on the map without a decent brutalist example or two. Let’s treasure and help preserve them from those who are determined to reduce them all to rubble—starting with the icons here.
(opening pages)
BARBICAN CENTRE AND ESTATE Located in one of the most bombed-out areas of London, rising from the ashes and debris of World War II, is this massive arts center and housing development, huge in scale and complexity. ¶ It’s confusing and fascinating, beautiful and inspiring. At the time it was built, it was radical to grant pedestrians as much importance as the automobile. I have personally been lost in its modern constellation of corridors, walkways, sky bridges, and tunnels more than once—and loved every minute of the discombobulation. ¶ The housing estates and towers were opened first, but the huge arts center wasn’t finished until 1982, when it was christened by Queen Elizabeth herself. The goal was to house people in well-designed architectural significance while surrounding them with a utopian fantasy of art and culture—all in the midst of busy London. ¶ In 2003, the Barbican was voted “London’s Ugliest Building.” These days, however, you would be hard-pressed to find any London-architecture list that doesn’t include it—usually near the top.
Location London Year built 1982 Architects Chamberlin, Powell & Bon
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The Bank of London and South America One aspect of brutalism that’s often overlooked is the airy interiors. For obvious reasons, architecture critics and fans alike tend to fetishize the hulking exteriors of these behemoths rather than the grandly spacious halls that are created by all that cold, hard concrete. The brutalist exterior is all about heaviness. But inside, as you see here, a certain lightness abounds. ¶ BOLSA comes up again and again on lists and overviews about brutalism. It’s hard to ignore. It was included in an internationally traveling exhibition that celebrated the 20th century’s most important works of architecture. Location Buenos Aires Year built 1966 Architects Clorindo Testa and SEPRA
SPOMENIK MEMORIALS Location Throughout the former Yugoslavia Years built 1950–2000 Architects Various
These late-Soviet-era memorials, some of which were built to commemorate the Yugoslavian people’s fight against Axis occupation during World War II, are hugely appealing. The monumental structures stand as remembrances and symbols of unity for that nation. Though these days they mostly seem to be appreciated for their otherworldly sculptural strangeness. Call it brutalism as folly. There are hundreds of these scattered across the countryside, designed by different architects in the second half of the 20th century. While some of them are the size of buildings, others are just barely as tall as a human.
GQ St yle | Architecture
Geisel Library
Fall 2018 For fans of both brutalism and Dr. Seuss, there’s only one building that matters: Geisel Location La Jolla, California Year built 1970 Library. Named after local La Jolla author and Architects William L. benefactor Theodor Seuss Geisel, the library Pereira & Associates is the somewhat unlikely home to a vast collection of Dr. Seuss drawings, books, audio recordings, and memorabilia—over 8,500 items in all, plus a large bronze statue of the Cat in the Hat that greets visitors. Architect William Pereira was the creator of many a memorable building, especially in California—the Transamerica Pyramid tower in San Francisco, CBS’s Television City in Hollywood, and Pepperdine University in Malibu, to name a few. The unique futuristic design is representative of hands (the splaying concrete piers) holding up books (the glassed-in floors).
THE CATHEDRAL OF SAINT MARY OF THE ASSUMPTION The great Italian engineer-architect Pier Luigi Nervi was a master of concrete as much as Picasso was a master of paint. His work is rare in the U.S., yet this is his most exciting and important structure. It’s also one of the few entries on this list that I dare say is even better viewed from the inside. I’m not sure how ecclesiastical you will find the interior space. I find it deliciously menacing—one of the most dramatic interior spaces ever created, enough to make me believe more in the power of art and engineering than in the power of He who hath supposedly risen. Nervi pushed the limits of reinforced concrete to the extreme; maybe when visiting here we all should believe in God for safety reasons alone, given the extreme, logic-defying cantilevers and load-bearing abstractions on display. Location San Francisco Year built 1970 Architects Pier Luigi Nervi & Pietro Belluschi
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Trellick Tower Location London Year built 1972 Architect Ernő Goldfinger
London was ground zero for brutalism because housing was in short supply after World War II and tall concrete towers were an expedient way to shelter large numbers of people. Trellick was once reviled, but it’s now trendy and sought after, respected in a cultish way. Though most of the units are still firmly held for social housing, when flats become available they sell quickly. A three-bedroom was recently on the market for just over $1 million. ¶ According to legend, the architect of the towers, Ernő Goldfinger, was such a tyrant to work for and his creations so menacing and unappealing that Ian Fleming named one of his most infamous villains after him.
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HILL OF THE BUDDHA Location Sapporo, Japan Year built 2015 Architect Tadao Ando
From Tadao Ando, the modern master of concrete, comes this installation at the Makomanai Takino Cemetery whose centerpiece is a giant stone representation of the Buddha. The statue already existed on site, but Ando decided to partially hide it inside a gently sloped artificial hill. Only the top half of the head peeks out through the open oculus. To be honest, I’m not completely sure what it’s all about, but it sure is cool. In the summer, the hill is covered with purple flowers; in the winter, mostly snow. The over44-foot-tall Buddha is approachable on foot through a series of brutalist water features, a prayer hall, tunnels, and walkways. This is monumentally scaled land art and architecture, religious sculpture and landscaping of the highest order.
The Met Breuer
T H ES E PAG ES, S E E A D D I T I O N A L C R E D I TS.
Location New York City Year built 1966 Architect Marcel Breuer
When he was at the famous German art school the Bauhaus, Marcel Breuer invented a series of steel tubular-framed furniture pieces that have become modernist icons and are still in production today. His architectural efforts are equally revered. This inverted ziggurat made of concrete and granite was, and still is, one of the most avant-garde buildings in Manhattan. Wildly disliked when it opened as the Whitney Museum of American Art in 1966, it has since been cited as one of Breuer’s best works and a definitive example of the brutalist movement. Despite all the masterpieces that have passed through its doors, the building itself continues to be a star.
Boston City Hall Boston City Hall is as polarizing a piece of architecture as exists in America. For years it has been lambasted—the concrete whipping boy of Boston. There have been almost yearly cries to tear it down, even as it continually makes “best of” architecture lists. When critics of brutalism are at their most brutal, they point to Boston City Hall and rest their case. Fans especially love the interior, with its soaring spaces and intricate Orwellian theatrics. But hey, it’s a free country—make up your own damn mind. Location Boston Year built 1969 Architects Kallmann, McKinnell & Knowles
GQ St yle | Cover Story
In pursuit of cookies, clothes, and maybe even a little
S tyled by M obo laji Daw o du
maturity with pop culture’s kaleidoscopic visionary, Tyler, the Creator.
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Pho t ogr a phs by Mat t hie u V e not
By Mar k Anthony Green
SUGAR H I G H
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GQ St yle C O OKIES AND MARNI. That’s the agenda today as Tyler, the Creator, and I ride around Paris and shoot the shit. Tyler can be incredibly specific in his tastes. Today he wants white-chocolate cookies from a particular bakery he went to the last time he was in Paris. And he’s looking for a certain gray two-piece suit he saw a black guy with a high-top wear in an editorial. He knows what he wants. But he doesn’t have any other information on the bakery. We literally typed “Paris Cookie” in Google. (And found it!) And just went by the nearest Marni, which unfortunately didn’t have the suit. But, to be fair, it could have been from seasons ago. He’s fixated on the suit, which is surprising for a guy who’s famous for his fractured attention span. I’ll give you an example:
Where did you get your love of jazz from? I don’t know. It’s just what my ear gravitates to. My mom played some around the house. But it’s just certain things, musically, that my ears just gravitated to since a young child. And that’s why—HOPE YOU GUYS DON’T GET ATTACKED!
I’m not sure who Tyler was yelling at. Maybe our crew, who was packing up after the shoot. Maybe his friend Jasper or tour manager, Brian, who followed behind us in a car. Maybe the random janitorial staff who was exiting the building in front of us. It was one of many, many outbursts that day from the boy genius. All topped off with his deep, comical villain laugh and cat-that-ate-the-canary grin. The cotton-candy-spooled world Tyler’s created is like nothing hiphop has ever seen. It’s a source of constant, unstepped-on stimulation. Equal parts sensitive and irreverent. Cartoons and gay-pride T-shirts and Converse that sell out and a massive yearly carnival/festival that everyone near Los Angeles turns up for. His musical catalog is full of complicated explorations of suicide, love, angst, and dick jokes. In his videos, one minute he’s glossy faced while butterflies gracefully land on his neck, while the next, he’s wearing a man’s surgically removed face to escape the cops. His world is lawless, limitless, and lucrative. So you can’t really blame him if he’s bored with the one that the rest of us are stuck in. To someone like Tyler, the Creator, all that a place like Paris, France, can offer is cookies and Marni. GQ S T YL E :
Were you always this encyclopedic about music? Yeah. I didn’t play with toys as a child. I just wanted CDs for my birthday and Christmas, and I would always just sit and read the credits. And to this day, I’ll look at an album, listen to it once, just preview it, and know the track list and sometimes, depending on if I like it or not, who wrote it. Just little stupid facts about it. When the person died, maybe. You have hard-core fans, and you’re a pretty hard-core fan yourself. One time a fan walked up to me and said, “Hey, Tyler, could you sign me?” I was grabbing pens, and he was like the fourth person. So when I went to grab it, it was a razor blade, and I was like, “What the fuck?” and I looked at his arm and he had cuts all over it. And my security was like, Nah. And threw him the fuck out of there. Wow. How’d you get that scar on your left arm? In 2010 my friend Travis bought a knife. We didn’t know if it was sharp enough, so I got it and put it in my arm and carved it like that and was like, “Yeah, it’s sharp enough.” Seriously? No lie. I have no reason to lie to you. Why the fuck would you do that? I don’t know. I was wild when I was younger. Do you have a vice? Sugar, if that counts. Like, I gotta slow down on that so I don’t get diabetes. I guess that’s it, if that even counts. I consider vices things that make you make bad decisions. You know? I like thrills. You know, me driving fast in my car is a bad decision to someone, but I’m like, that’s why I spent the money on it. My T Y L E R , T H E C R E AT O R :
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“It’s probably some 11-year-old who might hear a song, look me up, get introduced to a whole world, and that could change everything he’s into for the rest of his life.”
grandmother would say getting tattoos on my leg is a bad decision, but I kind of like it when I wear shorts. It’s all relative. So I don’t know, but I like sugar. Where’s the biggest frustration in your career at this very moment? I think everything that has happened thus far was supposed to happen. And everything is a learning experience for me. I mean, I’ve been trying to get on the radio. I haven’t been super successful with that, but that time will come. If it’s not the next album, then it’s the three after that. You have millions of followers on social media. Your own damn carnival, man. Why is radio important to you in 2018? I grew up listening to it. Although it’s not the most important thing, there’s still a percentage of me that wants to listen to the radio one day and say, “Oh, that’s my song!” A lot of my favorite artists I heard for the first time because of the radio. I first heard ”Maureen” by Sade on the radio. Maxwell’s Urban Hang Suite, his first album, co-written by Leon Ware. I first heard that on the radio. I first heard “Tape You” by N.E.R.D., my favorite band in the world, one of my favorite songs ever, on the radio. And that’s how I got introduced to that, and that shaped everything for me, so. It’s still a piece of me that not only wants to be on the radio, but it’s probably some 11-year-old in the middle of fucking nowhere who might hear a song, look me up, get introduced to a whole world— and that could change everything he’s into for the rest of his life. I’d like to talk about the theory that you have about your voice on the radio. Is that why you think you haven’t been on the radio yet? I hate my voice and I think—it’s not a full thought or theory yet— but I think there are certain voices that can make it into a mainstream world because of the tone that they’re in. People like Jay, ’Ye, Drake, you know, Kenny. It’s a world that their voice lives in. It’s not too high and squeaky, and it’s not too low and bassy, it’s not too abrasive and raspy. It sits in this space that’s easy listening for humans. And I’m still trying to figure out the science behind it. When I do, I’ll let you know, but I definitely don’t have that voice. And I fucking wish that I did. Stevie Wonder has it, too. It’s a tone that I’m tryna pinpoint. Like, Lloyd Banks was the hardest rapper from G-Unit to me. And you know, he probably didn’t have the same charisma and blah, blah, blah. And wasn’t shot nine times. Yeah, and there was something about 50’s voice that was like, I want to hear that more.
OPENING PAGES coat $995 Boss turtleneck $850 Hermès sunglasses $120 Toms jewelry throughout, his own OPPOSITE PAGE coat $1,195 Boss pants (price upon request) Ralph Lauren sunglasses $385 Garrett Leight
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Do you consider yourself an ambitious person? You know I’m an ambitious person. You’re talking to me. But I think most people’s perception of you is that you’re more like Thelonious Monk. An artist with no agenda. But talking with you, it sounds like you’re more like Miles Davis. Obsessive. Hard-core. Miles wasn’t, like, chill or fun to be around, ya know? I think I’m fun to be around. I think I have an energy that allows people to take off whatever mask they have and be comfortable to be themselves. Because although I do judge, I don’t discriminate. That’s a good way to live. Like, ew, nigga, you wearin’ those? All right, come on in. Be you. Don’t change. Stupid-ass kids have said that I’m a hypocrite because I make fun of what people are wearing but also tell people to be themselves. Do you know how stupid you sound? Yes, I make fun of what you’re wearing, and I also want you to continue to wear what you’re wearing no matter what the fuck I tell you I think about it. You know what I’m saying? Have you ever cheated on someone? No. Have you ever been cheated on? No. Longest relationship? Like, four months. Do you go hard in relationships? Yes. Overly. It’s kind of sad. All attention devoted to. Like, obsessive? Uh, I wouldn’t say obsessive. But I give a fuck. When I like something, you know, I like something. I can’t even eat a good cookie without just smiling. I’m a bad liar with shit like that, and I get obsessive over shit I like at the moment. And then when I’m over it, you’ll never see it again. That’s why I wear outfits for, like, three months in a row. Like, nigga, you’ve worn the same shit… And then you’ll never see it again. I feel like with Flower Boy and Cherry Bomb, you’ve found your voice. And it’s beautiful—in the classical sense. Yeah. I just stopped yelling and stopped saying crazy stuff, honestly. Like, niggas act like “Analog” wasn’t on Goblin. Or I wasn’t wearing tie-dye. Or like the “Yonkers” video, I didn’t have a bunch of chains on, wearing cutoff shorts with this hot-pink button-up tie-dye shirt. And, like, I do think that I’ve progressed in just making perfectly crafted stuff. But a lot of this stuff isn’t too out of character if you really study a artist. Like, I’ll use as an example: Kanye produced a song by Trina and Ludacris called “B R Right.” And in the middle of that song, there’s, like, a bridge. There’s no rap verse, no vocals from Ludacris or Trina, but it’s just a string section and this girl doing an opera-type singing for 16 bars or so. And that’s basically the blueprint for My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy. But some people don’t look at things like that, so they’re like, “Oh, my God, this came out of nowhere.” Nah, he’s been trying to perfect that for years, and he finally perfected it with Twisted Fantasy. Eminem: number 14…2002. It was supposed to originally come out in June, I think it came out May 26 because it leaked. The Eminem Show, number 14, “Hailie’s Song.” He’s singing on it. And, like, the hook is And sometimes, it feels like the world… Bro, that song is just the blueprint for the Recovery album. Yeah, but did you like Recovery? No. I don’t think it’s bad—it’s just not for me. But that’s just the blueprint for it. Does Eminem have more good albums or bad albums? As of now, it’s like equal. The thing with Eminem is he’s the reason I started rapping, still one of my favorite rappers. Still? Yeah. I just want to hang out with him and we go to Target for a few days. And go feed some ducks and then, like, listen to some weird fucking German dub-prog-rock-industrial music and then see what we come up with, no strings attached. We don’t have
“Yes, I make fun of what you’re wearing, and I also want you to continue to wear what you’re wearing no matter what the fuck I tell you I think about it.”
to be rappity-rappity or we don’t have to try to sound like this. Let’s just make. Because, man—I just wanted to rap like Eminem my first two albums. There’s that question that they ask in High Fidelity: How responsible is an iconic artist for their bad albums? What do you think? When you’re a really creative person, not every idea is going to be fire. You know? There are people I’m a ridiculous fan of, will try to stab someone if you disrespect them. And I know that they have bad songs. Like, I know, Nah that wasn’t good. But it’s okay, because you provide us with such great shit and you are really creative and have so many ideas… Has your fan base grown out of some of the stuff you’ve grown out of as an artist? A lot of people think I’m still the 19-year-old that they see on the crazy compilation videos on YouTube. I was 19, 20, 21, during a lot of those videos. They think I’m still like that, and I’m not. Don’t get me wrong: When I’m with my friends, I say crazy shit, but I’m not super wild and crazy like I was. People will run up and say, “You look like my mom!” What? Nah, dude. I’m chill. Just leave me alone. Yeah, it’s annoying. It sucks. I hope I can continue to make that not be the case. Are you worried that your fans are never gonna catch up? Oh, yeah. I mean, nostalgia is the worst thing of all time. We get attached to things. Like, again, some people can’t grasp the concept of change. Which is crazy. If you ask someone, “Hey, what was your favorite food when you were 5? What was your favorite thing to do? Okay, you’re 13 now, why don’t you do it anymore?” and they’re like, “What do you mean? I was 5.” They can’t grasp that same concept from when I was 19, and this was all new, to when I’m 27. The other day, I was at home. I got a new house—I overlook the Getty museum. And I love to draw. I’ve been drawing since forever. That’s how all the clothes and everything started—from me doing collages and art. But I’ve never painted. The other (text continued on page 138)
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THIS PAGE coat $2,690 Jil Sander sweater $480 Pringle of Scotland pants $395 Miller’s Oath socks $29 Pantherella OPPOSITE PAGE coat $880 Andrea Pompilio shirt $245 Lacoste beanie $40 Bricks & Wood
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GQ St yle morning, I painted. I decided to paint. Right before I recorded some stuff, I painted. And I’m in my new house, and there was a hummingbird on my window, just knocking on the glass. The sun wasn’t up yet, and I was like, This is crazy. So I just decided to tweet, “I’m painting right now, waiting for the sun to peek over. It’s a hummingbird outside of my window.” And everybody spazzed on you? And people are like: You’ve changed! Do you think we’ve gotten too sensitive? Oh yeah, dude. This Twitter culture is fucking trash. They’re out their goddamn mind. That’s because they’re bored and they be having two extra hours not to do shit. Don’t get me wrong, it be some people that be wilding out, but like niggas be reaching for anything. “You wore a blue hat? Well, what about the yellow hat? How dare you!” and then somebody else: “Yeah! How dare you?” “Mr. Lonely” was one of the fan favorites from the album. Are you lonely? People think I don’t have friends. I just don’t have no one to take as a date to the next award show. Someone’s like, “Oh, Tyler. I relate to that song. I’m lonely, too. I have no friends.” I’m like, No, I have all the friends in the world. I’m having a ball. I don’t want to take any of my friends as a date to the fucking Met Gala. Or, Jasper’s not coming to the Met Gala. Or, ol’ girl over there is not coming to the Grammys. Is it tough to find someone because you’re famous? Or is it because you’re picky? One, I’m picky. I hate people with trash music taste. Two, uh, yeah, it’s hard because you don’t know people’s intent. It’s crazy when you think about the fact that you and Frank Ocean, two generational talents, were just organically friends before either of you were known. Yeah. When I made Odd Future, I was onto something. Just the energy that it brought in and the people that came around. We have our Internets now, we have our Earls, we have our Franks, we have our me’s, and I just think that’s really cool. I was just thinking about that the other day. I was listening to some old stuff and I was like: That’s cool. And the music has aged well. Some of it has aged well. Some of it. Some of it? I think Goblin is horrible. I think Bastard is cool. The only songs I would keep from Goblin are “Yonkers,” “She,” “Nightmare,” “Tron Cat,” “Fish,” “Analog,” and “Au79.” What’s your biggest fear? Maggots. And going deaf. Which one are you more afraid of? Going deaf. I’d commit suicide. And why maggots? When I was 9 years old… I’ve always loved pastries, by the way, like cookies, doughnuts, shit like that. Little Debbie Swiss Rolls was one of my favorites. When I was 9, I usually was the type to open it up and eat the cream out. That’s weird. Yeah, fucking weird. One day, opened it and saw some shit moving, it was two maggots in there. Opened another one, it was two maggots in there. Fucking scared the shit out of me. I think that spawned me being terrified of them. I can’t. I walked by a trash can, and there were some just falling out, and I just ran away. I couldn’t take it. Is it true that Kanye’s new album made you cry? Yeah, when I heard “Violent Crimes.” Those chords, like, fucking—I can’t explain what they do to me. I always talk about chords and probably sound like a fucking dork, but since I was fucking 4 years old, I would always say it was a slant or it went up, ’cause I didn’t know what chords were, but it was a thing that music did that I just felt in my fucking body. And that was
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“I don’t like nighttime. Never did. It’s ugly. Daytime— the sun’s out.”
the most recent song that did it to me. Like, 1 out of 10, that shit did it a 12, and I just—my eyes just started watering. I couldn’t explain it. I hope when I die it gets explained to me. What do you think happens when people die? I don’t know, but I hope we go to a room where it’s our dream world and, uh, yeah. Tyler, the Creator, unfortunately passes away. He goes to this room. Describe the room to me. It’s always golden hour. Just chords playing in the air. The only cars are, like, F40s and fucking Enzos and fucking 675s and E30s, and it’s bike jumps everywhere. Every time you eat something, it tastes like the first time you ever ate it. I don’t know. All types of shit. That’s in fucking Tony Hawk’s Underground 2, this part. I remember that. Would you ever design something that isn’t your own line? Oh yeah, definitely. If Céline was like, “Hey! You want to do something small?” Fuck yeah. If you had to describe the way you dress to a blind person, how would you describe it? Warm blueberry pie. I dress like the smell of that. You’re allergic to dogs and cat saliva. Have you never had a pet? Oh no, I’ve legit never had a pet. If you had to have a pet what would you have? A lizard. A bearded dragon. What would you name it? I don’t know. Probably Concrete or Tony or something regular. What’s your ideal date? I would wake up, definitely make breakfast, go on a fucking long-ass bike ride, and it either ends going to a show from a band or going to see a movie. And somewhere swimming in between that. It’s unique that you make it during the daytime. I don’t like nighttime. Never did. Why don’t you like nighttime? I don’t know. It’s ugly. Daytime—the sun’s out. I don’t know. I just never liked nighttime. What’s one thing you will be making at 50 that you aren’t making at 27? I don’t know what I’ll be into next year. So I couldn’t even tell you. Probably some stupid shit. “Aw, I’m Tyler, I get really deep into detail when I like stuff. I’m overexcited all the time.” It’s borderline annoying, but you see the passion, so you let it pass. [laughs] But you like that you’re like that! Oh, I like me. I fuck with me. I love me. I would date the fuck out of me. Tyler is fire. He’s sick. It’s always something new—What’s up, Papa? Yeah, it’s definitely tight. M A R K A N T H O N Y G R E E N I S G Q ’ S ST Y L E E D I TO R .
coat $1,550 Acne Studios turtleneck $1,325 Hermès watch $2,850 Tudor
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Fall 2018 OPPOSITE PAGE shirt $195 Levi’s Vintage Clothing pants $650 Fendi shoes $545 Boss watch $3,930 Breitling hat, his own THIS PAGE coat $7,450 Loro Piana sweater $740 Corneliani turtleneck $170 Jil Sander pants $395 Miller’s Oath shoes $1,050 Sacai beanie $40 Bricks & Wood grooming by marianne agb. hair by ronnie mccoy III. produced by production paris. shot on location at hôtel molitor paris, paris jean bouin tennis, and sorbonne université, campus pierre & marie curie.
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TKTKTK SEE ADDITIONAL CREDITS.
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TKTKTK SEE ADDITIONAL CREDITS.
GQ St yle | Style Roundtable
Fall 2018
How three O.G.’s of the streetwear movement are using dad caps, hoodies, and rugby shirts to cultivate a new generation of politically activated cool kids. P h o t o g r a p h s b y J a k e J o nes
years of fashion has been as influential as streetwear. It has effectively run the table, having infiltrated and commandeered everything from trend-hopping mall retailers to the elite runways of Paris. With few exceptions, it has been the most thrilling, most polarizing, and most lucrative thing to happen in clothing—and it isn’t slowing down. Here are three of the men we can thank for that. If streetwear is the vehicle that upended fashion and changed the rules for how we dress today, these are your captains: Angelo Baque of the new brand Awake NY, Brendon Babenzien of the label and store Noah, and Chris Gibbs of Los Angeles retail linchpin Union LA. Alongside Supreme founder James Jebbia, Babenzien and Baque turned a downtown skate brand into a billion-dollar business, and Gibbs exported a bit of their ethos to Los Angeles, where he helped establish the new aesthetic paradigm for young men on the West Coast. When they met back in the mid-to-late ’90s, downtown N.Y.C. was in the midst of a street-culture renaissance, and Supreme, Stüssy NY, and Union were leading the retail front, all operating out of one central office in SoHo. Now the three are bosses of their own burgeoning businesses, leading the next phase of the movement: a socially conscious, community-based, totally independent insurgency in the fashion world. Grown-up and fiercely motivated, they remain a force of influence, now with bolder ambition, greater reach, and much larger targets (the president of the United States among them). We invited Baque, Babenzien, and Gibbs to come through with their crews for a photo shoot and a conversation about their N.Y.C. roots, why they keep making T-shirts after all these years, and exactly what has to happen next now that the underdog-streetwear movement is on top. N OT H I N G I N T H E PA S T 20
—NOAH JOHNSON GQ ST YLE:
Let’s start at the beginning. How did you guys start out in the business? C H R I S G I B B S ( U N I O N L A OW N E R ): My wife, Beth, got me the job at Union. B R E N D O N B A B E N Z I E N ( N OA H F O U N D E R ): She’s so much cooler than him. C G : This is ’96. She was, like, totally in the mix downtown, and I was totally not in the mix. At that time Stüssy, Supreme, and Union were all run and managed through this one main office. That was that whole downtown thing, which I know on the surface gets spoken about a lot, but it goes way deeper, and it’s really a microcosm for this whole industry. A N G E LO BAQ U E ( AWA K E N Y F O U N D E R ): I got my first retail job, at Canal Jean Company on Broadway, in 1996. I was 18. That was my inception into, like, downtown retail. Then I got hired in 2000 to work at the Stüssy store when it moved from Prince Street to
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Wooster. That’s when I met Brendon, ’cause Brendon was the head designer at Supreme at the time. And you know, for me, that was a big fucking deal. B B : I came at it from a different place. These guys were coming at it from this more of a downtown thing, and I came at it from my skateboard past. I’d worked with my friend Don, at Pervert. James [Jebbia] was like, “Oh, that guy used to work with Don. We need to start expanding our team at Supreme to, like, make more shit. Maybe he knows what he’s doing?” I didn’t, but he didn’t know that, so it was all good. We figured it out.
How would you describe the downtown microcosm at the time around Stüssy, Union, and Supreme? C G : It was the convergence of all these different people from all these different walks of life with different interests—but they’re all outsiders. All coming downtown, and you’re not an outsider anymore ’cause you’re all misfits. I’m gonna learn about the Cure from Brendon and learn about graffiti from Angelo. I’m a skate kid from Canada, so you know, they’re not gonna learn shit from me. [laughs] BB : The common denominator when you’re young, in any city, specifically in New York, is essentially nightlife. What do you do when you’re not working? What’s the music you’re listening to, and who’s playing it? My experiences were mixed. I was going to a New Wave show, a hardcore show, a punk show, but then I was also going to Mel’s to hear hip-hop. AB : When I was 22—Brendon, you were already, like, 30. BB : I’m the old man. A B : Thirty back then was like, “You’re old!” You know, he was like an adult. Being 22 and being exposed to that world...it was new. B B : Until we are where we are today. I’m 46. My staff in some cases are 20 and 21, and we can still hang out. We listen to some of the same music. Sometimes we skate together. You get to a certain point where you can go back. And you can start to experience it through other people’s current realities. How much do you reference your shared histories? Do you feel like you’re building on that? C G : One of the big things that came out of that time for me: I was in my early 20s, and no one in any position of authority gave a shit what I thought, right? And here I come to this place where they want my opinions. My opinions matter, and I have freedom to make some creative decisions that will make or lose somebody money. And I did both. I try to do the same thing for my staff now. Plus I’m definitely getting older. It’s harder for me to know what an 18-yearold wants to wear, so I gotta leave it to them. And I like the idea of giving them freedom—that was the world to me.
BREND ON BABENZIEN CHRIS GIBBS
ANGELO BAQUE
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GQ St yle | Style Roundtable For me this is all about history, whether it be music history or skateboard history or whatever. Unfortunately, what happens is things get lost to history. And I think it’s important to remind people of how you got to a place. Like, how did we get to a place where every kid is into fucking skateboarding? I was 13; I was made fun of. How did all of a sudden the whole world agree that skateboarding is cool? Or, you know, dressing a little bit different is cool? That’s a new phenomenon. C G : It reminds me of a conversation I had recently with one of my younger staff. We were downstairs shipping boxes, and I happened to be helping that day, and we’re listening to Sade. And he stops in the middle, and he’s like, “I’ve been really trying to get into Sade.” ’Cause Sade is this touchstone, you know.… BB : It’s the center of the universe. AB : It is. There’s no one like her. C G : Right. And he’s trying, because of our generation, to get into it. What I told him is that she represented an emotional feeling at a point in time. That was it. And you’re not living in that time, so it’s hard to reference. And then I end up, through trying to show a younger person the things that I’m inspired by, reliving them, and maybe reliving them with their perspective, which is cool. BB : As you get older, you have to recognize that most of the things that you think are incredible happen when you’re impressionable, when you’re young. And the music that’s happening around you, and the fashion that’s happening around you, and the politics that’s happening around you, make impressions on you, and they stick with you. So if you’re out at a bar, and for the first time in your life you are talking to a girl who has a shaved head, and you’re psyched on that, you’re gonna remember that shit based on the song that might be playing, and that song is gonna elicit an emotional response for the rest of your life. The trick for us is to challenge ourselves to stay interested. We have to stay intrigued. BB :
You guys have been in the game a long time now. What keeps you interested? Why haven’t you moved on by now? B B : For me there was never any choice. This is me. My business is me. I was never gonna grow up and stop raging against the system that’s out there and questioning things and trying to evolve. I love it. I love the culture that we talk about and we reference. I love skateboarding. I love music. I love clothes. I love the weird people I’ve encountered through it and things I’ve learned from them. So the bigger question is: Why would I stop? What else am I gonna do? C G : It just so happens that fashion has been the gateway for my creative expression. But it could have been anything. It just so happens that that’s where I landed. BB : That Beth got you that job. C G : Exactly. I wasn’t into fashion when I met her. I wanted to be a producer; I was into music. BB : “Fashion” isn’t even the right word for it. C G : Style. BB : Style. You have your own thing. Always have. It’s unique. It’s you. A B : What keeps me in it? We’ve all evolved, but we haven’t evolved because the industry evolved. We evolved because, as creatives, it’s been great. I’ve always seen Brendon as a mentor, and Chris to me is literally like my older brother. Anytime I have, like, a question about business or anything, I’ll always go to Chris, and Chris will always help me out. C G : I just call Brendon. AB : These two guys inspire me. And then the kids inspire me. In the last ten years, I haven’t really seen myself in another business. Instead it’s been: How can I take this platform and actually make something out of it? Make this bigger than just style, or fashion, or pushing cotton. When I left Supreme a year and a half ago, I had no idea I was gonna be doing what I’m doing now. I’m not pandering to anybody, and no one else here is. When I go to the Noah store, I believe that’s Brendon: He’s not bullshitting, he’s into the surf, he’s into the Cure, he’s into Siouxsie and the Banshees—that’s been Brendon since
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I met him. And Chris has always been pro-black, always since the day I met him. I’m a fucking Ecuadorian kid from Queens, but I just have a more evolved point of view now, and experience—global experience—of what that means to me. BB : I’m so thankful that I get to be involved in the community of people who are progressive in their thinking, and they’re pushing ideas forward, as opposed to the people who remove themselves at a certain point in life and they just get old. They’re the ones who are sitting around being like, “I don’t understand this music,” and like, “How dare they wear that crazy thing?” How boring.
You’ve all participated in some form of activism through clothing. Do you feel like you’re at the forefront of a larger movement? C G : If I look at what drew me to streetwear—and it wasn’t called streetwear when I was first drawn to it, but that’s the name that’s stuck— when I first walked into Union as a customer, I saw a whole shelf of T-shirts with political, social, cultural expressions, and before that I had come from a world where it was just what sports team did I like? What skateboarder did I like? What band? And then I walk into a place where there’s a whole bunch of T-shirts with these artistic, creative expressions that are speaking my language. I could wear that, and someone could know that’s how I feel. That’s at the core of it to me. When I get dressed, I’m trying to say something. There’s an emotion I’m trying to elicit. AB : You’re an artist. C G : Fuck you. AB : You’re like the Martha Graham of streetwear.
“I come from a righteous background. What people are calling being ‘woke’ or whatever. There was no woke. Either you’re a dummy or you got knowledge of self.” — A N G E L O B AQ U E
Dude, my first T-shirt was a Pervert T-shirt that I bought from Union. I’ll never forget. That T-shirt literally fell apart. There were holes—it was just tied together at the end. It was a picture of three young black kids sitting on a Brooklyn stoop. The image alone was strong—it was a beautiful picture. And then the caption said, “Suckers be swearing their staring gonna scare me,” which is an Ed O.G. lyric. I mean, where the fuck are you gonna go get a T-shirt with an Ed O.G. lyric on it? B B : It’s important to recognize that there’s culture behind these expressions Chris is talking about. If it’s a PNB shirt, you know the dudes behind it are about it. It wasn’t just about wearing this brand name—you were connecting to something. CG:
Has the rise of Donald Trump and the culture that’s come with it activated any of you in new ways? AB : For me, there’s a moral responsibility. A lot of kids started coming up to me towards the tail end of my time at Supreme, middle of the street stopping me, like, one: “Can I take a photo with you?” And two: “I fuck with your vision. You inspire me. I want to do what you do.” I didn’t even know people knew what the fuck I did. C G : I never knew what you did. AB : Exactly, right? I’m not curing cancer. I’m just art-directing photo shoots for a pretty cool brand. (text continued on page 150)
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B. VRNDAVANA POWELL jacket Straight to Hell t-shirt and hat Noah skirt, vintage C. BRENDON BABENZIEN all clothing Noah D. ESTELLE BAILEY-BABENZIEN blazer, pants, and loafers Noah t-shirt, vintage E. FRED RASUK shirt Gildan sweatpants Noah
F. AMIR ABDELLAH jacket, shirt, and pants Noah G. AURIEL RICKARD shirt Noah pants The North Face Purple Label sneakers Converse H. COREY RUBIN blazer Levi’s t-shirt and pants Noah boots L.L.Bean
I. VICTOR VEGAS sweater Iceberg History pants Roberto Cavalli shoes Buffalo London necklace Awake NY J. JON LOPEZ hoodie Awake NY pants Supreme x Levi’s sneakers Vans hat Awake NY K. OSCAR SANCHEZ cardigan, vintage t-shirt The Lure NYC jeans Helmut Lang boots Asolo beanie Awake NY
What really troubled me was the people that I thought were supposed to be leaders weren’t saying shit through the presidential election, post–presidential election. So it’s like, all right, me. I gotta step up. I gotta do something. So when the first Awake hat dropped, I donated half of the money to Standing Rock. I knew realistically I’m not gonna go protest, but at least I could donate money. And I could at least start creating some type of awareness for the kids that are following me. It’s just all about leading by example, and then hopefully they can start doing the same. They can be politically aware. And you felt a responsibility to contribute to that awareness? A B : I come from a righteous background. What people are calling being “woke” or whatever. There was no woke. Either you’re a dummy or you got knowledge of self. And if you were lucky, you met someone that had a little bit more knowledge than you. I had an older friend who was bona fide, and he gave me my first copy of Che and Assata Shakur and Eldridge Cleaver. If I could
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L. ANGELO BAQUE blazer Issey Miyake t-shirt Virgil Abloh for Social Studies pants Ralph Lauren loafers Bass hat Awake NY M. LUCKA NGO jacket Search & Destroy t-shirt, vintage hat Awake NY
N. JO PARK robe, vintage dress Dashiel Brahmann hat Awake NY
R. ORONDE GARRETT sweatshirt Maharishi pants Carhartt WIP shoes Nike
T. JESSE WILLIAMS jacket OAMC shirt Jil Sander pants Marni shoes Clarks
O. ANASTASIA HOWE BUKOWSKI blazer Jean Paul Gaultier t-shirt Awake NY jeans Levi’s shoes Birkenstock
S. CHRIS GIBBS jacket Marni cardigan Brownstone t-shirt EWF by Saint Luis pants Raf Simons shoes Adidas x Raf Simons
U. ARTHUR JAFA jacket Acronym blazer, t-shirt, and pants Rick Owens
P. STANLEY ORTEGA hoodie Awake NY pants Columbia Sportswear sneakers Nike hat Awake NY Q. MATT WILLIAMS poncho Brownstone jeans Levi’s shoes Visvim
V. COIRE WILLIAMS jacket Visvim jeans Levi’s boots Visvim hat, his own grooming by johnny caruso using oribe hair care and by kumi craig using sisley paris
start doing that through graphic design and through this platform that I’ve been given, that’s my intention: to teach. That’s better than $2 million. I’m good. That means I’m inspiring the next generation coming up.
Brendon, at one point you put the Patagonia logo up on your website. It’s pretty striking to go to one brand’s website and just see another brand’s logo. B B : I’ve always believed that businesses have a responsibility to operate responsibly, at least in some small way. So when I had the opportunity to do it, I did it. We do it in a very specific way. We did Black Lives Matter shit, we’ve done environmental shit, we sent money down to Puerto Rico—we’ll probably do another show for that at some point, ’cause no one’s talking about it anymore. People still are down there with no electricity and can’t get water and everything else. So we use the business as a vehicle to do whatever the hell we think is important. Some of it’s social, some of it’s environmental.
I L LU ST R AT I O N S : S I M O N A B R A N OW I C Z
A. BEAU WOLLENS parka Noah jeans Levi’s shoes, vintage
Fall 2018
And has the president played a role in motivating you to do more of that? BB : Trump? Forget it. On top of the problems we already have, he was like a whole new problem, and to be honest, not even a new problem. He’s just exposing the problems that were there. He’s given people license to act the way they’ve always fucking wanted to act, which is terrible. And to some degree I’m thankful, because now we know who they are. Now maybe we can start having a real conversation about the problems in this country when it comes to race and economics and educational divisions and all the things that occur here. Do you guys feel like your customers are more excited to have some higher meaning be a part of what they’re buying from you? C G : Anyone who’s shopping at our stores, yeah. And this is a whole other tirade, but, like, the 50-year-old person who’s shopping at our store is buying their youth back. The 16-year-old is inspired by the 50-year-old and the things that that person has done, and it’s this Silk Road of ideas. AB : They’re sharing culture. C G : They are, for lack of a better term, woke. If you’re shopping at any of these stores, you’ve made a conscious decision to not go to Macy’s or Urban Outfitters. I don’t have anything against those companies; I’m just saying you’re already woke, you’re already on some level, you’re looking for something different. AB : You’re on the path. C G : They’re looking for some kind of counterculture, and we’re the apparel outlet to that. BB : Consumers have lost track of that through the power of advertising and marketing; they’ve been a little bit tricked. Since the ’50s, they’ve been tricked into buying, buying, buying and forgetting that they actually have the power. They can decide what to buy, and what they buy is a vote for something, or a vote against something, depending on what you’re purchasing. You send a message with it. Do you feel like you’re in the business of luxury goods? C G : When I think of luxury, I think of some shit that’s over-the-top opulent just because it can be. Like, I got a rabbit-fur fucking briefcase, because I can afford it. ’Cause why not? I don’t think we’re luxury. I think, in fact, we’re the opposite, believe it or not. I’ve always thought: value over luxury. To get certain things, good things, you might have to pay more for it. BB : It’s true you get what you pay for. It’s a real thing. C G : So if you want the $12 streetwear T-shirt that to the plain eye looks the same as ours, but it’s made in China in a sweatshop with inks that are destroying the environment, yeah, that’s gonna be cheaper. B B : But someone’s suffering to get you that $12 T-shirt. In all of our cases, I think, there’s attainability.
But that doesn’t mean that it breaks through that ceiling. You brought up Virgil getting the job... C G : Yeah, like who would have predicted that? A B : For me, that makes it easier to have a conversation with Dover Street Market, to be like, “Hey, I don’t want to be in the basement.” ’Cause that was the conversation. ’Cause if I’m gonna be in the basement, I’d rather not. No, thank you. Now I’m on the same floor as the Calvin Klein collection designed by Raf Simons. Fuck yeah, that’s a win for me. AB:
Is that deliberate? B B : Hell yeah, it’s deliberate. Nobody here came from money. I grew up on the side of fucking Sunrise Highway on Long Island. That’s real. Luxury is unattainable for most people, and I think we’re all in the game of reaching people.
With Supreme collaborating with Louis Vuitton, and now Virgil Abloh is the men’s artistic director there, you’re definitely in close proximity to traditional luxury. Is it something you ever thought would happen? A B : Had you asked me this question ten years ago, I would have said no. But maybe five years ago, I would have said yes. I saw the tides shifting. Would I have predicted that Supreme and Vuitton would have collaborated? No. That just seemed unbelievable. C G : I don’t think anyone here could have predicted what’s happened. B B : Things that are popular and good don’t get smaller. They only get bigger.
ON ANGELO BAQUE trench coat Burberry x Gosha Rubchinskiy hoodie Awake NY jeans Union LA bucket hat, vintage
In an industry that can change so drastically and so rapidly, how do you see the future? C G : I want there to be more depth and a holistic kind of consciousness to my brand. We definitely reached a critical mass of like, how many fucking T-shirts can you own? I want there to be a really strong call to action from what we’re doing. A B : I’m not pandering. I’m not changing my message because I want to sell more T-shirts. I’m just being true to myself. At the core of it is the authenticity that we all have in our work. B B : Do people want this kind of activation politically through our businesses? I would say, yes, they do. The sales and the response show that. But more importantly, they fucking need it. It needs to happen. If the world doesn’t get better, we’re in a serious situation. We’re drowning in our own shit. Literally. Oceans are filled with plastic. If we don’t change our behavior, as consumers, we are fucked. Bottom line. So want, need, whatever—it has to happen.
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The capital of Senegal is booming with development. But not even a skyline of cranes can interrupt its hypnotizing elegance and legendary chill. We took the season’s best printed and patterned high fashion and spent 72 hours capturing the vibe on the street. P hotographs by Fanny Latour-Lambert Styled by Mobolaji Dawodu
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PAPI AGE 28 OCCUPATION Artist,
fashion designer, founder of @DakarLives jacket $2,290 pants $990 Fendi shirt $995 Dolce & Gabbana hat $60 JJ Hat Center ring, his own
(opening pages) ABOU SARR AGE 24 OCCUPATION Model shirt (women’s) Giorgio Armani pants $728 Bode boots $1,150 Bottega Veneta
“DAK AR IS A VERY CO OL, LAID-BACK PLACE,” says GQ Style fashion director Mobolaji Dawodu. “And one thing that stands out? The clothing. They’re not scared of any type of print. The prints and colors are dynamic.” Dawodu and French photographer Fanny Latour-Lambert touched down in Senegal on the final day of Ramadan with several suitcases of clothes and some camera gear. The plan? To meet and shoot a few dozen Dakarites who exude natural style, whether they’re wearing traditional patterned boubous or a floral Off-White suit. “There are a lot of beautiful, elegant people in Dakar,” Dawodu says. The westernmost city on Africa’s mainland is a hook-shaped peninsula that juts into the Atlantic, boasting expansive beaches and excellent surf year-round. It’s also the epicenter of Senegal’s very tuned-up economy. As the Ramadan fast came to an end and hype for the country’s World Cup squad built, the squares were flooded with revelers. Dawodu put out a casting call for models but ended up meeting most of the characters here on the street, in bars, and at a dance party that had to be shut down by the police. The next day, as the city slowly hummed back to life, the team we’d gathered got dressed and represented the soul and spirit of Senegal. — S A M U E L H I N E
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DIJA DIALLO AGE 24 OCCUPATION Sales agent dress Roopa shoes Emporio Armani earrings The Shiny Squirrel
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Fall 2018
BEYDI OUMAR BA AGE 21 blazer $1,205 pants $1,075 Off-White c/o Virgil Abloh sweater $1,185 The Elder Statesman boots $1,450 Santoni hat $475 Versace ring, his own
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SUZANNE SONKO AGE 26 OCCUPATION
Management assistant intern dress Gabriela Hearst scarf, stylist’s own
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Fall 2018
LEFT, ON PAPI blazer $1,050 Massimo Alba
RIGHT, ON ABOU blazer $2,330 Etro
turtleneck $1,330 Etro
shirt $515 Vivienne Westwood
pants (price upon request) Isaia
pants $300 Death to Tennis
shoes $1,050 Santoni hat, stylist’s own
hat, stylist’s own sunglasses $665 Mr. Leight
ring, his own
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MOUR FALL AGE 31 OCCUPATION Artist jacket and pants (prices upon request) Louis Vuitton shirt $240 Acne Studios shoes $1,295 Christian Louboutin hat $148 Laulhère sunglasses $460 Salt necklace and ring, his own
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GQ St yle
MARCEL YOUSSEF AGE 22 OCCUPATION
Film student jacket $3,700 pants $1,750 Bottega Veneta shirt $910 Etro shoes $1,595 Jimmy Choo necklaces, stylist’s own
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GNIMA DIOP AGE 31 OCCUPATION Regional analyst coat and top Jil Sander sunglasses Eyevan head scarf and earrings, stylist’s own
FAR LEFT, ON DIJA top and skirt Pleats Please Issey Miyake coat Prabal Gurung
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GQ St yle
NANET TE DIOP AGE 24 OCCUPATION TV presenter, actress dress Pleats Please Issey Miyake top Anna Sui pants Etro boots Clergerie sunglasses Eyevan scarf, stylist’s own
FAR RIGHT, ON MARCEL coat (price upon request) Haider Ackermann jacket $2,095 pants $1,535 Issey Miyake Men boots $1,295 Christian Louboutin hat and necklace, stylist’s own
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LÉNA GUEYE AGE 18 OCCUPATION
Model, student top Adam Selman pants Anna Sui shoes Christian Louboutin bracelets Dinosaur Designs earrings Giorgio Armani ring Alexis Bittar
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Fall 2018
LEFT, ON MOUR sweater $4,980 Gucci pants (price upon request) Louis Vuitton shoes $1,295 Christian Louboutin sunglasses $460 Salt hat $148 Laulhère ring and necklace, his own RIGHT, ON GNIMA top Jil Sander coat Giorgio Armani skirt, her own shoes Christian Louboutin sunglasses Eyevan earrings, stylist’s own
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EL HADJ AMAD OU DIOP AGE 23 OCCUPATION
Management student jacket $1,035 Bode t-shirt $170 Come Tees pants $1,340 Marni shoes and necklace, his own hat, stylist’s own
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Fall 2018
HASSANE SY AGE 26 OCCUPATION Model, actor turtleneck $535 Issey Miyake Men coat $5,500 pants $980 shoes $950 Gucci bracelet, his own
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MADELEINE DIENG ND OYE AGE 17 OCCUPATION Model, student turtleneck Ellery overalls Rosie Assoulin
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SEG A DIENE AGE 30 OCCUPATION Model, stylist sweater-vest $775 Versace pants $1,281 Haider Ackermann shoes $270 Ancient Greek Sandals hat, rings, and bracelet, his own
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MISS MARIA DIADY AGE 19 OCCUPATION Student dress Gucci shoes Christian Louboutin
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(from left) ALIOU SOW AGE 56 OCCUPATION Vendor clothing, his own
NDIATÉ CISSÉ AGE 23 OCCUPATION Portfolio assistant jacket and skirt Kenzo top Ulla Johnson boots Christian Louboutin hat, stylist’s own necklace Dolce & Gabbana bracelet Alexis Bittar
MANZEL A ITOUA AGE 27 OCCUPATION Sales adviser sweater $1,750 Bottega Veneta pants (part of suit) $4,295 Isaia shoes $960 Christian Louboutin hat, stylist’s own sunglasses $420 Garrett Leight bracelet, his own
SHARON D OSSOU AGE 19 OCCUPATION Student
jacket and skirt Dolce & Gabbana top Ulla Johnson jewelry The Shiny Squirrel
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GQ Style | Look Book
PAPA IBR AHIMA ND OME AGE 24 OCCUPATION Model jacket $4,990 shirt $980 pants $2,080 boots $2,990 Tom Ford sunglasses, his own hair and makeup by jessica de souza. produced by loguiss cineprod. production manager: iman djionne. locations: médina, ouakam, soumbédioune, aminata diop’s house in hann maristes.
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Fall 2018
How a finely tuned series of Japanese sports cars from the early ’70s became the most sought-after vintage whips among car connoisseurs and speed freaks. P h o t o g raphs by Adrian G a u t
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THERE’S NO Q UESTION ABO UT IT:
If you want to blow
minds with a vintage sports car, a classic Ferrari, a Porsche, and
even a Mustang are all surefire ways to do just that. And Lord knows we here at GQ Style love those cars. But if you want to blow the right
minds—the connoisseurs, gearheads, speed freaks, and taste gods—it’s all about the early-’70s Datsun 240Zs right now. These Japanese marvels of
mechanical engineering entered the American market as reliable, affordable, high-performance alternatives to the European imports that dominated when it came to exotic horsepower. And despite several decades of ripping up the roads (and being made of some highly rust-prone steel), many of them have survived and remain worthy rivals to their more popular (and far more expensive) Western counterparts. Thanks to that and the laws of scarcity, they’re hotter now than ever, and those who truly get it are rabid for them. Here, in the words of some of the most obsessed and lead-footed
Carl Beck (collector; owns three 240Zs— two original 1972s and the 1973 Pete Brock raced in Baja that same year): I was driving a Porsche, and I passed the Datsun dealership, and they had a 240Z sitting in the showroom. I saw it, and thought, Gee, what was that? I turned around and went back. Long story short, after a prolonged test-drive that evening, I bought it. The dealer couldn’t take the Porsche on trade. It was worth too much. He would have had to give me money! Rich Scharf (collector, restorer; owns four 240Zs, from 1970, ’71, ’72, and ’74): My 1970 is my dad’s original. I was 9 years old the day he brought it home brand new. I remember that moment. It was always the coolest car. He wouldn’t let me touch it. Chris Karl (collector; executive director, Z-Car Club Association): Delivered pizza. Saved up money. Mom helped me on the down payment. I paid her right back when I got paid. Champagne gold, five-speed, red velour interior of the time— not exactly tasteful. Every date I had thought it was a Porsche. Scharf: It’s that long front end that’s very attractive. A lot of people say it was based off of the Ferrari, the 250 GT Ferrari. A lot of people said it looked like the Jaguar E-type. It’s a head-turner. Beck: I think the thing that makes the 240Z, gives it its longevity, is it moves from one generation to the next because it’s a beautiful car. It was and still is a classic design. Coke-bottle shape, you know, long nose, short deck. A real art piece. It draws a crowd almost anywhere you stop.
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—LUKE Z ALESKI
Peter Brock (designer, racer; founder, Brock Racing Enterprises, whose team won the Sports Car Club of America championships in 1970 and ’71 with a production 240Z): The car that came to the United States from Japan was the dream of Mr. Yutaka Katayama. The engine was designed by guys over at Nissan who had never built a race engine. In the end we took this engine that was an absolute hand grenade and we built one of the best production racing engines in the world. The car was unbeatable. We took it out for the first time, and we smoked the Porsches. And Porsche, unable to compete with us, quit. Triumph quit as well. And so the 240Z dominated for the next five or six years and became the most popular GT car in the car business. We won the next two national championships. And at that point, it took like three months to get a Datsun 240Z. Was supposed to be $3,500, and the dealers kept marking them up two or three thousand dollars. That’s how valuable they were. Karl: The real intent was to deliver a driver’s vehicle…where you could enjoy going around turns. Back in 1970, there was nothing like it. The clear interpretation is that Nissan was not convinced that they could be successful in the United States. Mr. K [Yutaka Katayama], however, made it a massive success with the release of the 240. Beck: Yeah, the funny thing is, I sold the ’70 for more than I paid for it. Demand was so high. Even two years, three years into the car, the demand was so high. I paid $3,500 plus tax, and
1970 DATSUN 240Z SP ORTS COUPE Color:
Safari Gold
Engine:
Stock 2.4-liter inline 6
Transmission:
Stock 4-speed manual
Notes:
All original, un-restored, low serial number; has been in the Scharf family for 48 years
1971 DATSUN 240Z SP ORTS C OUPE Color:
New Sight Orange
Engine:
Stock 2.4-liter inline 6
Transmission:
Stock 4-speed manual
Notes:
Restored to original stock condition
About these cars: The three Datsun 240Zs shown have been restored by their owner, Rich Scharf, mechanical engineer by day, die-hard Datsun enthusiast on the weekends. The pumpkin-colored one is his holy grail, a 1970 Z originally owned by his father. Scharf has twice turned down offers to buy it for $100,000.
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among them, is the story of the incredible Z-car.
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LO C AT I O N : TO R R E Y P I N E S G L I D E R P O RT, L A J O L L A , C A
1971 DATSUN 240Z SP ORTS C OUPE Color:
Chevrolet Rally Yellow
Engine:
Modified 2.6liter inline 6
Transmission:
Modified 5-speed manual
Notes:
Modified with racing suspension, Recaro racing seats, and 16-inch Panasport rims
a year and a half later, with 68,000 miles, I sold it for $4,200. Karl: There’s been a massive resurgence around the Datsun Z over the last two years. Jay Leno is a fan. Adam Carolla. Massive interest. He owns a lot of Paul Newman and Bob Sharp racing cars. The twin-turbo 280ZX. Paul Newman used to race in one. He owned that vehicle. Adam Carolla (comedian; host, ‘The Adam Carolla Show’; collector; owns several racing Zs, including a 1979 280ZX previously owned and raced by Paul Newman): Most guys you’re going to talk to are collectors, or they’re the cars-and-coffee guys, which is fine, but I race. It’s a lot more intense than cars and coffee. I like the machinery. I raced at Road Atlanta several months ago with one of those BRE [Brock Racing Enterprises] Z-cars, and those are fast cars. John Morton is driving it now, who’s the same guy that drove it back in the day—still fast. The 240 and the Datsun 510 are two of the most raced cars ever. Jay Leno (comedian; host, ‘Jay Leno’s Garage’; America’s classic-car dean emeritus): It was a real sports car that real, American-size people could fit in. Your shoes could sit on the pedals without hitting the gas and the brake simultaneously. It was comfortable, and it was durable, and it was quite good. They were easy to fix, easy to work on. You know, it was probably at that point the most American Japanese car ever made. Carolla: I don’t want to over-romanticize the Z—you would rather have a Ferrari Daytona if you can afford it— but for a 50th of the price, the Z is a pretty good piece of machinery. It had an inline six, an overhead cam, an aluminum head. It was easily hot-rodded up. You could put triple levers on it and mess around with the gear ratio on the rear end. You could just keep going with it. Beck: I’ve had a lot of sports cars. Ferraris, Jaguars, Corvettes, Porsches. And the 240Z’s always been my favorite. It’s the only one I never wanted to get rid of after four or five years. Scharf: It’s a very drivable car. They’re simple. Very easy to work on. Karl: And they’re very mechanical, too. If you just look at the engine design, and watch one being revved, then you see all the mechanical linkage connected to the carburetor. You have to understand how to drive a machine. There were no driver aids. Power brakes, power steering—all these things that we take for granted, all of those components—didn’t exist.
Once you get that car moving, you realize what they mean by driver’s car because you feel the road. You can understand what the car’s going to do as it starts to reach the limit and the tires are about to squeal. It’s a different driving experience. “Mad” Mike Taylor (Z-Car Club Association liaison to Nissan Japan; friend of Yutaka Katayama’s): People just don’t get rid of them. You’re not going to find a whole lot of 240s for sale. Karl: There’s a genre within our society that still remembers these things. That, combined with the publicity, the skyrocketing values… Because the unfortunate thing about them, they were not made of the best steel. They were very prone to rust, and most of them did not survive. Michael Dorvillier (chairman, the La Jolla Concours d’Elegance classic-car show): Eventually you probably just threw it away when it quit running and rusted out. The metal was poor. They just weren’t valuable. No one wanted them. Karl: I would wager a third of what was produced is still out there. But rarity will also increase value. Dorvillier: When people say, “Hey, what’s the next car to start collecting?” It’s when that guy gets into his late 40s, early 50s, and he’s done okay and he’s saved a little bit of cash. He’s gonna wanna go back and buy the car that the guy that stole his girlfriend in high school had, right? Craig Jackson (CEO, Barrett-Jackson Auction Company): And it all depends on what you really liked when you were a kid, but we’re seeing a lot of the ’70s, ’80s, into-the-early-’90s cars across all genres becoming collectible because that’s what the Gen Xers grew up with. Dorvillier: And so last year at our event, the Honorary Judge’s Choice Award went to a 1970 Datsun 240Z sports coupe. Not the 1955 Mercedes-Benz 300 Gullwing. He didn’t choose the $2 million–plus car. He chose that orange 240Z [shown here]. The car owner is Rich Scharf. Scharf: I’m really a purist. I like it to be exactly like it came out of the factory. When I do a restoration, that’s typically what I do. On my dad’s, it’s all original. I replaced spark plugs and belts and things like that, but nothing else. Some of the hoses are actually still original, 48-year-old hoses. The plug wires are 48 years old. Original paint on the air cleaner and fan. I try to keep everything as original as possible, even if they have little dings or little scratches. It is what it is.
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Portrait
By Arty Nelson
Photographs by Michael Schmelling
ProliďŹ c L.A. painter
HENRY TAYLOR has been compulsively knocking out colorful depictions of friends, family, and intriguing passersby for decades, without much concern for his art-world status or his market. So why are both now suddenly skyrocketing?
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I’m sitting in the artist Henry Taylor’s driveway in early summer, watching him rough out a portrait in his home garage–slash–studio. He works quickly, applying pink to large areas of the canvas, then counterbalancing with generous slathers of a lush green, pausing only occasionally to search for the next song on his iPhone. Kanye’s album Ye just dropped, and I’m lobbying for “Ghost Town” while Taylor’s on the hunt for the Psychedelic Furs’ “Pretty in Pink,” in homage to the canvas’s dominant hue. Once he lays out one of his subject’s basic forms, he goes to work approximating a face. Some of the details in a Taylor portrait are close to what you or I might see, while others—the signature Taylor strokes—are far more impressionistic. Energetically, he’s all over the place, pushing in tight to examine his canvas or make a mark, then stepping back again. It’s never about finishing one specific part; it’s always about the whole picture. Every so often, Taylor steps back and snaps a photo, like he’s taking a note. Throughout the process, the sun continuously shifts in the sky, giving it all a fleeting race-against-time intensity. This being my third interview session with Taylor, I’m hell-bent on reining him in conversationally. Especially because he’s leaving tomorrow to teach at the prestigious Skowhegan summer residency in Maine. I need to get some clarity on our previous two conversations, but every response the artist gives is a wonderful impromptu, somersaulting bebop solo, even more diffuse than one by Charlie Parker—we’re talking full-on Rahsaan Roland Kirk. So far, Taylor’s pedal-to-metal stream of consciousness has me reaching for a slide rule every time I get home and start going through my notes. To be clear, Taylor is completely open—he’ll discuss anything— but every question is like a slingshot that sends him hurtling back through his past. It seems that painting, or rather the process of Henry Taylor talking about how or why he paints, is seamlessly interwoven with any number of autobiographical strands. Here’s a fragment from his eighth-grade days, back in Oxnard, California. And here’s an anecdote from one of his seven elder siblings. And here, for good measure, is an extended riff on a newspaper headline he scanned the morning he started a particular painting. “It’s an old habit from when I studied journalism,” Taylor says, straightening an American Spirit between his fingers. “To this day, I can’t put down a paper until I’ve turned every page.” Along with journalism, Taylor studied interior design, which might help explain his gift for composition—the way he arranges the room of a given canvas. He confesses that design was a psychological backup in the days before he fully surrendered to chasing his true passion, fine art. Since he threw caution aside, Taylor has amassed a staggering body of work—mostly paintings but also sculpture and film. His bombastic and highly personal iconography is mostly rooted in portraiture of everyday people, some of whom he knows intimately. Friends, family, acquaintances, and strangers are occasionally peppered with relevant historical or pop-cultural figures, all characters in the narrative of Taylor’s own vast life experience. For instance: A painting of Jackie Robinson stealing home playfully pokes at Taylor
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A cross section of Henry Taylor’s visual references: police violence, an Angeleno in the street, Ronald McDonald.
being a black artist in a predominantly white gallery world. A large canvas of Cicely Tyson and Miles Davis on the lawn in front of the White House on their way to visit the Obamas chronicles a more optimistic imaginary moment in the ebb and flow of the American Dream. A film unfolds as an ode to a long-ago moment the artist once shared with Bob Marley. “Let somebody else do Obama,” Taylor says now. “I’d be much more likely to paint Al Green or, say, Sly Stone. The portraits have to hit me. Sometimes they go fast; other times you’re just kind of thinking. Like the saying goes: You try hard, you die hard. I remember this one time, I got stuck painting my brother’s dog for a week. I just had to
get it right.” Tim Blum, whose gallery, Blum & Poe, is set to launch a much anticipated new Taylor show in New York this September, says in regard to Taylor’s increasingly famous portraits, “The successful ones seem the most effortless. It’s either coming or it’s not. It’s what he sees and how he paints it. If you’re in the studio with him, it might not necessarily be what you see. It’s a much deeper, truer place.” As Taylor begins his seventh decade on the planet, his road has been a long and winding proposition. By the time he finished high school, his experiences included the removal of a benign brain tumor, a brother’s tour in Vietnam, and another brother’s suffering of severe burns. Then a ten-year stint working at California’s Camarillo State
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GQ St yle | Art Hospital while raising a son and at the same time entering the undergrad program at CalArts as a freshman in his early 30s. There was also a period that Taylor spent as a Rastafarian in Oakland, going by another name. Taylor’s reminiscences about growing up have strains of Dickens or Faulkner. He watched from a bedroom window as his father and one of his brothers—both named Hershel—traded punches with the police in the front yard. He learned some sign language to more deftly cheat on school exams. In junior high, it was an art teacher with a yen for astrology, Teresa Escareno, who took an early interest in Taylor’s trajectory. “She did my chart and told me that I was going to make it,” he says. “But that it wasn’t going to happen right away. For some reason, I just believed her! That carried me for years. I was always patient, just kept doing what I was doing, but wasn’t ever desperate or thirsty about it.” Turns out, Mrs. Escareno’s esoteric vision couldn’t have been more on the money. Taylor is currently showing extensively throughout the world. He’s already done solo exhibitions at the Studio Museum of Harlem and MoMA’s PS1. He’s been included in pedigree group shows like the Whitney Biennial and the Hammer Museum’s Made in L.A. Adding to his canon, this fall Taylor’s dropping a monograph with Rizzoli, a distinction often regarded as an art-critical rite of passage. This recent flurry of interest and activity is all a far cry from Taylor’s scene when I was first exposed to him back in 2004. It was around the time of his first solo show at Katie Brennan’s Sister gallery in L.A.’s Chinatown. Taylor was living nearby, carousing around the clock with artist-gallerist Joel Mesler, who went on to show Taylor in both L.A. and New York. “There were about a half-dozen of us all living and working together,” Mesler says, referring to a crowd that
Tools of the meditative trade.
Taylor has a large studio on the edge of L.A.’s Skid Row and an impromptu portraiture studio in his two-car garage at home.
included artists Phil Wagner and Mario Correa. “We had a recording studio above [artist Jorge Pardo’s legendary] Mountain Bar. Henry used to come in when we were jamming, grab the mic, and just start screaming,” recalls Mesler. “I’d keep the reel-to-reel rolling every night, then edit in the morning.” Back then, Taylor would apply paint to any surface he could find: shoebox lids, cigarette packs, lampshades, even a suitcase or two. His fluid interpretations of what constituted a canvas became a trademark, making him known as some kind of modern-day Gauguin or Toulouse-Lautrec. In retrospect, he was chronicling the nuances of what many now consider a watershed L.A. art-historical moment. The paintings were raw and ached with immediacy. I remember them making me feel like more than just a viewer—I felt like a witness to the original event. Adding to the visceral quality of Taylor’s work was the ever present possibility that the artist’s infectious howl could be heard echoing through the neighborhood’s chintzy courtyards. At the time, Taylor was already about 45, and I remember thinking it might be a little bit late to lump him in with all the other hot young kids being churned out of L.A.’s burgeoning art-school machine. But since then, Taylor’s name has risen every bit as high as, if not higher than, the others in a crop that includes Laura Owens, Jonas Wood, Jorge Pardo, and Pae White. Back then, Taylor’s mentor and teacher James Jarvaise encouraged the not-so-young Henry to develop a signature palette. Taylor looked to masters like Philip Guston, Cy Twombly, Jean Dubuffet, and Jacob Lawrence for inspiration—and his vibrant color has undoubtedly become part of his renown. In the end, however, I would argue that it’s Taylor’s long and tumultuous journey that gives his art such gravitas, rather than any one technique or art-historical reference. “His life experience has been so vast and so emotional, he has so much empathy, and that’s why the work comes across so powerfully,” notes Blum & Poe’s Jeff Poe. “And Henry is able to translate those feelings onto the person he’s painting. It could be somebody in the
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room with him, a memory, a family member… Whatever the case, it’s the empathy that comes across, because you can feel it. It’s not like you’re looking at something, you’re feeling something, and that’s what makes Henry so successful.” To further illustrate his point, Poe cites a painting clearly seared into his frontal lobe: A Happy Day for Us, included in the 2017 Whitney Biennial. The nearly five-by-seven-foot piece is a pastoral of sorts, with trees that seem to fracture abruptly in the middle ground of the composition while in the right foreground a young black boy and girl walk together, each carrying a small bouquet. The coup de grâce is a set of wings protruding from the boy’s back. Are the duo brother and sister? Young lovers, perhaps? Angels? Or maybe (gut-wrenchingly so) martyrs? Taylor’s work, though predominantly figurative, has an almost nonchalant quality typically associated with abstraction; to achieve the effect, the artist offsets areas of intense detail with larger, broader, and flatter swaths of color. “It’s completely bizarre,” remarks Poe. “A crazy, delicate balancing act.” Taylor puts it to me like this: “Sometimes you want to get it just right, but look—I’m not an illustrator. I remember, once, this drawing I did of my dad.” Taylor mimes a decisive, singular brushstroke. “And I was like, ‘That’s Dad right there!’ There was a time when something that simple would’ve made me feel like I was cheating, like I didn’t put enough work into a piece. These days, I’m trying to be looser. People talk about inspiration, but once you get in there, you got to be receptive. Something’s going to happen. If I’m a chef and you go in my kitchen, your ass is gonna come out with something that tastes good!”
Taylor is working on dozens of paintings at any given time. Some take years to finish; others he’ll complete start-tofinish in 45 minutes.
These days, Taylor moves between his house in L.A.’s West Adams neighborhood and his downtown studio. When he’s not showing, he likes to travel, and he keeps a map of the world tacked up in his garage. Last spring, following a show in Tokyo, Taylor took a trip to Cambodia with the artist Sano, then went on to Vietnam by himself. Given the steadily increasing demands of life back home, the traveling creates space that Taylor packs by sketching compulsively. Oftentimes, the ministrations become catalysts for future paintings. That said, it’s clear Taylor still sometimes pines for the bad good old days of yore. “I used to just be pulling shit in off the streets,” he says. “Scrap wood, all kinds of random shit. When I’m driving around, I still catch myself scanning over piles of trash! Sometimes you got to just drag stuff in and have it be there.” Taking stock of his current, slightly less chaotic surroundings, he adds, “Honestly, sometimes I just feel like I got lucky.” While it’s true that everybody needs a little luck to make it, what matters most is what you do with that luck. And judging by the brimming racks at his studio, Taylor has enough in-progress canvases to fill most top-tier museums. “The work is like a huge marinade of empathy, love, spirit, and magic,” says his gallerist Tim Blum. “Henry begins a painting, he hangs on to a painting, he becomes afraid of releasing them. I mean, you almost have to wrestle them out of his hands all the way up to the moment of a show. He’s in love with the paintings. He’s in love with the people in them.” ART Y NELSON IS AN ART, FOOD, AND TELEVISION WRITER LIVING IN LOS ANGELES.
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Additional Credits Page 45. Clockwise from top left: Luc Coiffait; Jake Jones; Sebastian Mader; Adrian Gaut Page 94. Courtesy of Andrew Jacobs Page 95. From left: courtesy of Ulysses Ortega/Evan Kinori; courtesy of Adrien Cothier Page 96. Clockwise from top left: Casey Kelbaugh; courtesy of Andrew Jacobs; Matt Martin; Casey Kelbaugh Page 97. Clockwise from top left: courtesy of Andrew Jacobs (2); Chris Fenimore Page 98. From left: courtesy of Allen Danze/Evan Kinori; courtesy of Ulysses Ortega/Evan Kinori Page 99. Clockwise from top left: courtesy of Allen Danze/Evan Kinori (2); courtesy of Ulysses Ortega/Evan Kinori (3)
Page 100. Clockwise from top right: courtesy of Adrien Cothier; John Sciulli/ WireImage/Getty Images; courtesy of Adrien Cothier (2) Page 101. Courtesy of Adrien Cothier (4) Page 120. View Pictures/UIG via Getty Images Page 121. Richard Allen/Alamy Stock Photo Page 122. Cemal Emden Page 123. Top and bottom: Donald Niebyl/ Spomenik Database. Center: Darmon Richter/Barcroft Images/Barcroft Media via Getty Images. Pages 124–125. From left: courtesy of Erik Jepsen/UC San Diego; Connie Zhou/ Otto Archive Pages 126–127. Clockwise from top
left: Shigeo Ogawa/ Tadao Ando Architect & Associates; Phil Preston/The Boston Globe via Getty Images; Ezra Stoller/ ESTO; View Pictures/ UIG via Getty Images Pages 190–191. From left, on Léna Gueye, jacket: Etro. Top: Adam Selman. Pants: Anna Sui. Shoes: Christian Louboutin. Earrings: Giorgio Armani. Bracelets: Dinosaur Designs. Ring: Alexis Bittar. On Aminata Diop, clothing: her own. On El Hadj Amadou Diop, jacket: Bode. T-shirt: Come Tees. Pants: Marni. Necklace: his own. Hat: stylist’s own. On Madeleine Dieng Ndoye, overalls: Rosie Assoulin. Turtleneck: Ellery. Ring: her own.
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Photograph by Fanny Latour-Lambert