S T Y L E
C U L T U R E
T R A V E L
G R O O M I N G
W O M E N
T E C H
C A R S
F E A T U R E S
64 In Search of the Targa Florio Our autos editor gets lost in Sicily and finds the birthplace—and burial ground—of professional motorsport.
66 Tears of a Mad Man Jon Hamm emerges from Don Draper’s shadow—just in time for a new season.
86 The Kate Upton of our Dreams Our interview with the world’s leading supermodel went exactly as we imagined. Also: pictures.
S P R I N G
S T Y L E
92 Rainwear This season’s casual raincoats, weather-tested in the rainiest place on earth.
102 Accessories Eight reasons why animal hide never goes out of style.
SUITS P.118
110 Trends Things you need to know about the spring’s best looks.
118 Suits It’s about time you owned a khaki (or brown. Or green) suit.
VISIT SHARPFORMEN.COM FOR MORE CARS, WOMEN A N D O T H E R M A N LY P U R S U I T S
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APRIL 2012
CONTENTS
52 The Traveling Man
SHARP WOMAN P.86
What to do in San Francisco, the best city in California (take that Fresno).
54 Food Every man needs a good cleaver, even if it’s just to pass on to his son.
56 Vices A premium vodka taste-test. Plus, never pick a bad cigar again.
60 Automobiles We dream about the eco-future of sports cars —while dwelling in the sinful splendour of the petrol-burning present.
G U I D E
34 The First Thing Enough with disposable umbrellas. Here’s one for the ages.
35 A Welcome Introduction Leslie Bibb returns to the small screen in GCB. We return to Leslie Bibb.
36 A Man Worth Listening To Legendary Canadian novelist and journalist Linden MacIntyre talks about his new book, Why Men Lie.
38 Music
40 Film
64 Dad Skills
46 Heroes Of Menswear
Jason Statham is still kicking after all these years, thank god.
J.Crew’s Frank Muytjens is finally bringing the classic American brand to Canada.
42 Style Briefing
Shaughnessy Bishop-Stall has a lot to learn if he’s going to be his son’s hero.
48 Timepieces
It takes know-how and cojones to pull off a patterned blazer. We provide the know-how.
Monochromatic timepieces are the perfect match for bright spring clothes.
50 Grooming
PLUS
44 The WellDressed Man
How to shave like your old man used to—with a safety razor.
expounds on the difference between a blazer and a sportcoat, how to get the salt off your shoes and what to wear to work, among other matters of style.
STYLE P.44
AUTOMOBILES P.60
Toronto folk quintet Great Lake Swimmers go mainstream with their latest LP.
S T A N D A R D S
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26
28
128
130
EDI TOR’S LETTER
L ET TE R S
MA N A BO U T T OWN
WHERE TO BUY
R A N K & F ILE
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MAT
Job Desc.: 3S Launch Jan. 2012 Docket: BMWCA0310 Client: BMW Group Canada Supplier: Type Page: 7" x 9.75" Trim: 8" x 10.75" Bleed: 8.25" x 11" Screen: Pub.: SHARP Colour: CMYK Date: February 1, 2012 Insert Date: March 27 & April Issue Ad Number: BMWCA0310-SH-4C-E-3erL
MAN ABOUT TOWN
PIRELLI CALENDAR LAUNCH PARTY Pirelli launched their 2012 calendar with a gala at New York City’s Park Avenue Armory. Hosted by Julianne Moore, the event honoured photographer Mario Sorrenti, who shot this year’s calendar. Many of 2012’s Pirelli models were present, including Natasha Poly, Jessica Hart, Rinko Kikuchi and Isabeli Fontana, alongside designers Valentino Garavani, Johan Lindeberg and Vera Wang.
the next generation BMw 3 series 320i 328i 335i
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the ultimate Driving Experience.®
DKT./PROJ: BMWCA0310
ARTWORK APPROVAL Artist: Studio Mgr:
VISIT SHARPFORMEN.COM
Production:
TO SEE OUR GALLERY OF PHOTOS FROM THIS YEAR’S PIRELLI CALENDAR.
3
Proofreader: Creative Dir.: Art Director: Copywriter: Translator: Acct. Service: Client: Proof: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 Final
2
PDFx1a Laser Proof
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HI-RES MAG SPECD IMAGE IN PLACE
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5 Learn more or arrange a test drive at thenext3.ca.
tHE nExt gEnEratIon BMw 3 sErIEs wItH LuxurY LInE. IMpossIBLY BEttEr. 11
12
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1. RINKO KIKUCHI, MALGOSIA BELA, NATASHA POLY, MARIO SORRENTI, ISABELI FONTANA, JOAN SMALLS, MARGARETH MADÉ, JULIANNE MOORE 2. JOAN SMALLS 3. NATASHA POLY, MARCO TRONCHETTI PROVERA, ISABELLI FONTANA, MARGARETH MADÉ 4. INSIDE THE PARK AVENUE ARMORY 5. ANA CAROLINA SCAFF 6. STELLA SCHNABEL, MAXWELL SNOW 7. LOTTIE OAKLEY, JULIE MACKLOWE 8. WARIS AHLUWALIA 9. JULIANNE MOORE 10. GHERARDO GUARDUCCI, LAUREN REMINGTON PLATT 11. SAMANTHA RONSON 12. ALLISON LUBIN, CARLOS MONTALVO 13. JOHAN LINDEBERG 14. FRANCA SOZZANI, VALENTINO GARAVANI
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©2012 BMW Canada Inc. “BMW”, the BMW logo, BMW model designations and all other BMW related marks, images and symbols are the exclusive properties and/or trademarks of BMW AG, used under licence.
G U I D E
S T Y L E
SOCKS PAUL SMITH ACCESSORIES $40
Q: WHAT IS TH E DIFFERENCE BE T WE EN A SUIT JACKE T, SPO R TCOAT A ND B LAZER? A: Not a whole lot, actually.
The most noticeable difference is one of context: suit jackets are usually paired with a matching pair of pants and for that reason tend to be more understated and structured, and made from fine wool (or lighter cottons and linens during the summer). Sport jackets were originally designed as outerwear and as such were warmer and more durable, in tweeds and heavier fabrics. Now, they have more or less become accepted
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A: As a working stiff you may be relegated to traditional office wear, but that doesn’t mean you have to look stiff. First off, make sure your clothes fit you impeccably (that alone will set you apart from most other men in your office). Then add a punch of colour and prints. Start with your pocket square, tie, and socks. It will give your suit enough panache to satisfy your need for creativity, without offending your boss.
as a less structured, casual jacket. Finally, blazers are nearly anything with sleeves, buttons and lapels. Traditionally, they were navy blue jackets with gold buttons, but as time has passed, the lines have blurred. Q: I’M BU YING A NE W WATC H A ND WOU LD LIKE S O M E T HING T HAT I C A N W EA R P R E T T Y M U C H A LL O F T HE T IM E. C A N YO U R ECO M M END S O M E T HING V ER S AT ILE T HAT C A N GO F R O M O F F IC E TO F O R MA L TO C AS UA L W E AR? A: A steel chronograph
sports watch with a steel bracelet is your best bet
here. Choose something understated and classic, like a TAG Heuer Carrera Heritage, which is refined enough not to look out of place with a suit, yet rugged enough for weekend casual. Q: H O W D O I GE T R I D O F S A LT S TA I N S W I T H O U T R UI N I N G M Y L E AT H E R S H O E S? A: Salt stains—the Cana-
dian man’s sworn nemesis. Thankfully, there is a swift and eco-friendly solution to your (and the rest of the nation’s) predicament. Mix a tablespoon of white vinegar with a cup of water and wipe the stains off with a soft cloth.
LOA F E R S Springtime is a great time for loafers. No laces, no fuss–you can wear them with pretty much anything. I go for either a grey or a forest green. T U SCAN LEAT H ER I tend toward the Tom Ford fragrances. In the wintertime I will wear Bois Marocain, but in the spring, I like to use the Tuscan Leather. LIGH T W EIGH T FAB R IC S I think less in terms of bright colours for spring, and more in terms of fabric weights. I step away from khaki into a navy or a grey that’s still spring-y, but not necessarily super colourful. Maybe it’s from spending over 10 years in New York. T EQ U ILA A couple shots of tequila, sparkling water with fresh squeezed lime juice and a lime wedge. It’s a great, refreshing drink, has a good amount of alcohol and it won’t spike your insulin level. C OA R S E S ALT We have a great fishmonger near where we live, so I like getting a great trout and marinating it over night. Add a bit of lemon and olive oil, some coarse, coarse salt and pepper, a little bit of paprika and grill it in tin foil. It’s perfect. CATCH DIAMANTOPOULOS THIS MONTH AS MOE IN THE REMAKE OF THE THREE STOOGES.
THERESE ALDGÅRD
WHEREIN SHARP ANSWERS YOUR STYLE QUESTIONS.
F IV E R EC O M M END AT I O N S F R O M A SO O N-T O -B E F A M O U S C A NA D IA N AC T O R C H R IS D IAM AN T O P O U LO S O N S P R ING.
P H OTO:
THE WELLwork demands a fairly conservaDRESSED Q: My tive dress code. How can I show a bit of creative flair without getting into trouble? MAN
G U I D E
V I C E S
“ I SM O KE IN M O D ER AT IO N. ON LY O N E C I G A R AT A TIM E. ” –MARK TWAIN
THE BIG SMOKE WHEN LIFE GIVES YOU A REASON TO SMOKE A CIGAR, YOU DON’T WANT TO SMOKE A BAD CIGAR. BY XIAOLI LI
P
icking a good cigar is a skill every man should have. “Most of the criteria of cigar smoking are very subjective. The only exception is the cigar’s construction. It is either well made or not,” explains Markus Raty, President of Mombacho Cigars. Here’s how to tell if it’s well made before putting it in your mouth.
1 BY SIGHT
1 BY TOUCH
Look for a cigar that’s visually appealing: it’s got a smooth, dark wrapper leaf. You’re going to see veins on a tobacco leaf, but you don’t want thick ones. You want the cigar to have an oily sheen without looking wet.
NOTE:
Sigmund Freud is famous for clarifying that sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. It’s a quote that we try to keep in mind whenever cigar shop talk comes up. It’s easy to get distracted.
Run your fingers along the length of the cigar, lightly squeezing it. It shouldn’t be too hard, Raty says, but it should also not feel spongy. It should be firm, elastic—a sign that it is filled just so, and will smoke properly. If it cracks, put the smoke down and leave the shop.
1 BY COLOUR
There’s a perception that the darker a cigar is, the stronger it will be. This is a myth, says Raty. Certainly, it suggests a longer-aged cigar, but generally a darker-coloured wrapper will have more flavour to it—but, flavour and strength are two different things.
CIGARS AND DRINKS
WHILE WHISKEY IS THE POPULAR CHOICE FOR CIGAR PAIRING, THAT DOESN’T MEAN IT’S YOUR ONLY OPTION. CONSIDER THE FOLLOWING: 4
2
1 SCOTCH
Find a balance that suits your needs, using a more flavourful malt to bring out the character of a milder cigar. Recommendation: Thor, by Highland Park ($250). While the aftertaste is sweet and spicy, the first sip is dry and fiery. Much like the Norse god of the same name, or so we’re told.
2 RUM
Picking well-aged, dark rum from the same region that produced your cigar will create a nice contrast in tastes. The sweetness of the rum is a nice complement to the flavour of the cigar. Recommendation: Flor de Caña 5 Year Old ($25), a sweet Nicaraguan rum with a clean, refreshing flavour.
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3 BRANDY
1
3
Many brandy houses produce special blends to be enjoyed with cigars. A smooth, sweet taste pierces the smoky weight of a cigar perfectly. Recommendation: Chabasse XO Cognac ($140), a smooth drink which has a spicy, earthy quality to temper its sweetness.
THE COMPACT CAR THAT DEMANDS YOUR ATTENTION. Introducing the all-new next-generation 2012 Subaru Impreza. Both the interior and the exterior have been stylishly redesigned. There’s AWD vehicle in North America.‡ You’ve never seen a compact car like it. No wonder it was just named ALG’s Best Compact Car. subaru.ca
WELL EQUIPPED FROM *
19,995
$
JAPANESE ENGINEERED VEHICLES STANDARD WITH
4 PORT
Similar to rum, a tawny port makes for an outstanding pairing. Aged in sherry casks, these golden-coloured dessert wines are best sipped slowly. Recommendation: Graham’s 20-Year-Old Tawny Port ($40), a sweet wine with a long finish that sits well with a cigar’s flavour.
Fuel Economy †
‡
Lineartronic® CVT City/Hwy (L/100 km) : 7.5/5.5 5MT City/Hwy (L/100 km) : 8.3/5.9
Best Compact Car
‡Comparison based upon Natural Resources Canada’s estimated highway fuel economy for all 2011 AWD vehicles. †It is possible to travel up to 1,000 km on one tank of fuel based on manufacturer-estimated fuel economy of 5.5L/100 km (highway) for a 2012 Subaru Impreza equipped with continuously variable automatic transmission and a 55L fuel tank capacity. Actual fuel consumption will vary based on driving conditions, driver habits and vehicle load. Based on ALG’s 2012 Residual Value Award for Best Compact Car. *MSRP of $19,995 on 2012 Impreza 2.0i 4-door (CF1 BP). MSRP of $20,895 on 2012 Impreza 2.0i 5-door (CG1 BP). Model shown (top): 2012 Impreza 2.0i Limited Package 4-door (CF1 LP). MSRP of $25,895. Models shown (bottom): 2012 Impreza 2.0i 4-door (CF1 BP). MSRP of $19,995. 2012 Impreza 2.0i Limited Package 5-door (CG1 LP). MSRP of $26,795. Taxes, licence, registration and insurance are extra. $0 security deposit. Dealers may sell for less or may have to order or trade. Offers applicable on approved credit at participating dealers only. Vehicles shown solely for purposes of illustration, and may not be equipped exactly as shown. See your local Subaru dealer or visit subaru.ca for complete program details. APRIL 2012 SHARPFORMEN.COM 59
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G U I D E
A U T O M O B I L E S
THE REBIRTH OF A LEGEND THE JAPANESE SUPERCAR THAT BEAT THE ITALIANS AT THEIR OWN GAME IS COMING BACK TO DO IT AGAIN. BY BRADLEY HORN
THE ORIGINAL NSX, 1990
U
ntil the NSX’s debut in 1990, cars like the Porsche 959 and Lamborghini Countach had a lock on balls-out performance, creating benchmarks, and inspiring automotive lust in petrolheads the world over. But they were divas of machines, incredibly fast, sure, but also high-maintenance, flamboyant creations that punished your spine, kept your mechanic in Rolexes, and generally tried to murder hapless drivers. Then, from within a divine miso-scented fog, emerged the NSX, a two-seat, mid-engined, V6powered coupé. It was fast, balanced, comfortable and cool—a better Ferrari for Honda money. If you listened carefully, you might have heard the Sangiovese spit-take from Modena, or the wheezing
of the boffins in Stuttgart as they choked on their bratwurst. Gordon Murray, the man who penned the famous McLaren F1—earth’s fastest car in the ’90s—said it more eloquently, “the moment I drove the ‘little’ NSX, all the benchmark cars—Ferrari, Porsche, Lamborghini…vanished. Of course, the car we would create…needed to be faster…but the NSX’s ride quality and handling would become our new design target.” The NSX’s origin story begins in 1985, when Acura’s engineers were given the lofty mandate to build a road car that drove and handled like an F1 racer. Its development was no less high-minded, and the coupé spent a month straight tuning on the Suzuka racing circuit—with help from F1 legend Ayrton Senna—before becoming the first Japanese car to be refined on Germany’s Nürburgring. Partly inspired by the material used to build Japan’s Shinkansen bullet train, the NSX pioneered the all-aluminum monocoque body—now standard practice on high-performance machines like Audi’s R8 and Jaguar’s XKR. The result? A coupé billed as nothing less than the consummate integration between man and machine. It was hyperbolic, but not excessively so. Fast-forward then, to the 2012 Detroit Auto Show. This NSX Concept steals the spotlight and gets us all hot and bothered about the prospect of the two-seater’s return. Details are scant as yet, but so far the reboot promises rear wheels driven by a mid-mounted V6 engine and front tires spun by electric motors. A hybrid? You bet your kimono. But this is hybrid engineering we can get excited about: supercar acceleration with family sedan efficiency. It’s a concept as revolutionary today as the notion of a V6 supercar was in 1990. The execs at Ferrari, Lamborghini and Porsche ought to be more than a little nervous.
ACURA NSX CONCEPT
SEX Y C A R . . . T O O B A D AB O U T T H E N AM E P ER H AP S T H E Y ’ RE J EALO U S O F AC URA’S NEW NSX S U P E RCAR AN D T H E L EXU S LFA , B U T W H AT E V ER THE R EASO N, W E’R E GLA D INF INI T I F I N A L LY U N V EILE D A S E XY SP O R T S CA R O F T H EIR OW N.
HOW YOU SEE THE WORLD DEPENDS ON HOW YOU LOOK.
Under the bright lights of the 2012 Geneva Motor Show, flanked by models in white dresses, the Infiniti Emerg-E, well, emerged. The concept may have a silly name, but you won’t be laughing when you see it in the sheet metal. (This early photo doesn’t really do it justice.) The windswept bodywork hides a 400-horsepower, gas/electric hybrid powertrain which means you won’t even have to feel guilty about driving it. It has a range of 50 km on battery power alone, after which a Lotus-produced, three-cylinder gas motor kicks in, giving you another 450 km to get where you’re going. Find a stretch of open road and the Emerg-E will sprint from a standstill to 100 km/h in about four seconds. At the moment it’s just a concept, but, Infiniti, if you’re listening: Build it. And for goodness sakes, come up with a better name. –MB
KENNETHCOLE.COM/INTERNATIONALSTORE FACEBOOK TWITTER
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THE No one ever said
TEA RS OF A
being the spokesman for masculinity
w a s e a s y.
MAD M N
I N T E R V I E W B Y E R N S T R E I N H A R T; P H O T O S B Y V I N C E N T P E T E R S
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APRIL 2012
THE No one ever said
TEA RS OF A
being the spokesman for masculinity
w a s e a s y.
MAD M N
I N T E R V I E W B Y E R N S T R E I N H A R T; P H O T O S B Y V I N C E N T P E T E R S
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APRIL 2012
THE KATE UPTON EFFECT a fiction
BY GREG HUDS ON
THERE
ARE
T WO K AT E
UPTONS
.
There’s the real Kate Upton, the one her family knows from Michigan, the one that rides horses and dances the Dougie in that viral video, the one that gets her picture taken on beaches. And then there is the Kate Upton we see in those pictures. There is a difference. We create the latter without realizing we’re doing it. The first Kate is, of course, unfairly gorgeous and most likely fun and free-spirited; but it’s the second Kate men fall in love with. It’s the only Kate Upton most of us will ever know. That’s the Kate I interviewed. It turns out we have a lot in common.
89
S H ARP F ORME N.C OM
THE KATE UPTON EFFECT a fiction
BY GREG HUDS ON
THERE
ARE
T WO K AT E
UPTONS
.
There’s the real Kate Upton, the one her family knows from Michigan, the one that rides horses and dances the Dougie in that viral video, the one that gets her picture taken on beaches. And then there is the Kate Upton we see in those pictures. There is a difference. We create the latter without realizing we’re doing it. The first Kate is, of course, unfairly gorgeous and most likely fun and free-spirited; but it’s the second Kate men fall in love with. It’s the only Kate Upton most of us will ever know. That’s the Kate I interviewed. It turns out we have a lot in common.
89
S H ARP F ORME N.C OM
KATE
U P TON I S N’T L ATE .
This throws me off. I was planning on at least a half hour of waiting to savour my acute, adolescent anxiety: the woman of my dreams was about to know that I existed. I chose a restaurant in downtown Toronto that isn’t as swanky as it should be. It’s a part of a chain I used work for, so it’s the closest thing to a home court advantage I can think of. It’s not helping. She comes into the restaurant sandwiched between a tall, severely happy woman with black hair and a BlackBerry pressed against her face, and a non-descript chunk of muscle in dark slacks and a shiny blue shirt. He’s smiling, too, as if Kate had said something that made them both very happy. Of the three, he’s the only one who takes off his sunglasses against the relative darkness of the restaurant. I wave at him. I have a notebook in front of me ready to jot down a stream of first impressions. But as Kate Upton approaches, my hand writes only one word: Damn. You expect models to look plainer when wearing less makeup and more clothes. But, no. I should admit, there are times when I see Kate—on the Sports Illustrated cover, eternally dancing in her swimsuit on kateuptondancing.com—that I can’t help but get angry at how
beautiful she is. Is this not breathing proof of life’s injustice, I think. But, when she takes off her sunglasses, her eyes smile at me, and it’s impossible to be anything but stupidly smitten. If she has practised this look (and I tell myself she has), she’s done her homework. It feels disarmingly genuine, like meeting me here was her idea. She gets settled. I jot down what she’s wearing because that’s what you do: dark skinny Guess jeans, a tight t-shirt, and a loose cardigan. This to say: she’s dressed like pretty much any other 19-year-old woman. I move over to let her bodyguard sit beside me. “Actually, Jay, it’s cool,” she says. “Why don’t you and Lisa sit at the bar.” This is unplanned. Jay and Lisa exchange looks, silently deciding who should tackle this one. “Guys. Seriously, it’s okay,” she says again, and her entourage disappears to the other end of the restaurant without a word. “Sorry about that. I hope that doesn’t make me look like a brat or anything,” she says. Not at all. One of the pains of this racket is trying to have real conversations with someone, knowing their reps are ready to jump in at any second. “When I was younger, I used to listen in on my cousin’s phone calls with her boyfriend. I thought I was so sneaky,” she says. “It must have been really annoying. I suppose the constant eavesdropping now is karma.” That extends to her whole life; she’s not exactly tabloid-fodder, but a simple video of her dancing at a basketball game went viral. She’s definitely watched. “Actually,” she looks down as a glass of water is set in front of her. She looks at the server, thanks her. “Here’s the thing: does it feel weird to be recognized by strangers? Of course! But it’s such a selfish little problem, isn’t it? It’s so far removed from other people’s experience that complaining about it seems stupid, doesn’t it?” She goes on, absently tracing shapes in the moisture on her glass. Behind her, Jay cracks a cell phone against the bar, throws it at a nearby table. The bartender shouts in protest, a kid who’s just had his toy confiscated. People just want to be noticed, she says. “We all want to be validated, to have enough people know us that we don’t feel so small anymore. We want connections with people who’ll tell us, yes, you are worthy! People want fame because they mistake the two. How ungrateful does it look then when celebrities complain about fame. It’s a slap in the face of normal people’s needs.” She takes a drink. So, Kate Upton: she’s kind of dark. It’s surprising because the defining quality of Kate Upton’s pictures is this playfulness that walks the line between innocent and sexy. She’s not a vamp; she’s
more of a pin-up. Which, it should be said, is what makes her so damn alluring. Also, her saying things I’ve always thought. That’s incredibly sexy, too. “Shoot.” She says it in a way that tells me it’s kind of a catchphrase for her. “I didn’t mean to sound depressed. I’m incredibly, incredibly lucky. I just don’t want to forget it.” What’s that like, I ask, knowing that so much of one’s success is a result of a genetic lottery that she won big. “It’s incredibly surreal,” she says. “I know that’s not an original idea, but I’m not in a particularly original position.” So,instead of being consumed by that fortunate injustice, she’s trying hard to earn it. “It’s more of an existential thing,” she says. Yes, she works out—she works her ass off, in fact—but it’s more than that. “I owe it to myself to make something out of me other than a pretty face.” She reads. She’s working on a kind of graphic novel based on George Saunders’ stories that she’ll never show anyone. She’s figuring out the best way to give back, without it becoming a branding issue; she’s becoming fluent in economic policy, politics. It’s overwhelming, she says, but it’s not like she doesn’t have spare time—waiting around between shots, waiting around in airports. Her first nonprofit venture is a micro-loan organization. Anonymously, she fronts the cash for would-be businesswomen in Detroit. “You don’t have to include all that,” she says. “If there’s anything worse than celebrities talking about how hard it is to be famous, it’s celebrities talking about their fucking charity work.” A man in a black shirt and black tie walks towards us with his phone out, poised for a photo. I raise my hand to brush him off, but Jay is already beside him. The man in black smiles like a salesman who’s used to diffusing situations, but his mood changes at the sight of Jay’s novelty-sized hands, waving a finger in front of him. I turn back to Kate as Lisa mouths “five more minutes.”
“That’s funny,” I say, wounded. “What about you? There’s no Knick catching your eye?” Instead of answering, she takes another bite of salad. “Really, can we be honest? My job is to look like I would be fun to have sex with, right? Isn’t that enough? What people are really asking when they ask a celebrity about their love life is: tell us who you are having sex with, so we can then picture the two of you famous people having sex. But I think I give people enough of that.” “Besides,” she says, “we were talking about your marriage. How’s your sex life?” Because I don’t look like Kate Upton, and because I’m not special, I change the subject. “Exactly,” she says.
We’re talking about horseback riding—something she was nationally ranked in before she got famous for her looks. I realize that I’m perilously close to being aroused. It’s easy to forget that you’re talking to Kate Upton, until you realize that, in fact, you are. It’s then that simple things take on a kind of erotic weight. Kate Upton eating strawberries in her salad. Kate Upton saying the word “fucking,” and now Kate Upton riding a horse. You don’t want to objectify someone like this, especially when you’re sitting right in front of her. Instead of fighting it, I mention it. How does it feel to be objectified like she is? Her answer is typical, at least for Kate Upton: “It’s inevitable, right? It’s just a question of scale for me.” She’s right, of course. There’s a crowd growing behind the window, as if this restaurant was the set of a morning show. Someone has tipped off the Twitter-verse and cameras are appearing. People would notice Kate Upton even if she were waiting tables here. Now, it involves mobs. Jay cracks his knuckles and neck and walks outside to deal with the crowd. A gladiator. She will be objectified. It’ll happen in this interview wherein I try to humanize her. You’ll read what she said, silently editing out anything that doesn’t conform to your picture of Kate, making her into whatever you like. A silly model, maybe. A symbol of feminity. Or worse, the mouthpiece for all the pretentious ideas of a frustrated writer. At least, that’s what I did. It’s called the halo effect. We’re easily duped by beauty—we attribute positive qualities to things that are more attractive. If you’re handsome, you’re a good guy. If you’re ugly, you’re hiding something. It doesn’t just happen with celebrities and presidential candidates, we do it with cars, computers, washing machines. Of course, it’s all fiction. And so is this Kate Upton.
“here’s the thing: does it feel weird to be recognized by strangers? of course! but it’s such a selfish little problem, isn’t it?”
Instead, we order lunch. While she eats her strawberry spinach salad, she turns the conversation around. I realize saying that is a mild brag: look at me, a supermodel is interested in my life, not yours. And, okay, that may be part of it. But, mostly, she wants to eat. “You’re married.” She says, pointing at my ring. “Either that, or you didn’t want me hitting on you. This way, my feelings won’t get hurt.” I tell her I do that whenever I talk to models, otherwise Victoria’s Secret shows would turn into one big catfight, models clawing each other for my affection. “It’s true. Models really go for the slightly pudgy, writer-look.”
KATE
U P TON I S N’T L ATE .
This throws me off. I was planning on at least a half hour of waiting to savour my acute, adolescent anxiety: the woman of my dreams was about to know that I existed. I chose a restaurant in downtown Toronto that isn’t as swanky as it should be. It’s a part of a chain I used work for, so it’s the closest thing to a home court advantage I can think of. It’s not helping. She comes into the restaurant sandwiched between a tall, severely happy woman with black hair and a BlackBerry pressed against her face, and a non-descript chunk of muscle in dark slacks and a shiny blue shirt. He’s smiling, too, as if Kate had said something that made them both very happy. Of the three, he’s the only one who takes off his sunglasses against the relative darkness of the restaurant. I wave at him. I have a notebook in front of me ready to jot down a stream of first impressions. But as Kate Upton approaches, my hand writes only one word: Damn. You expect models to look plainer when wearing less makeup and more clothes. But, no. I should admit, there are times when I see Kate—on the Sports Illustrated cover, eternally dancing in her swimsuit on kateuptondancing.com—that I can’t help but get angry at how
beautiful she is. Is this not breathing proof of life’s injustice, I think. But, when she takes off her sunglasses, her eyes smile at me, and it’s impossible to be anything but stupidly smitten. If she has practised this look (and I tell myself she has), she’s done her homework. It feels disarmingly genuine, like meeting me here was her idea. She gets settled. I jot down what she’s wearing because that’s what you do: dark skinny Guess jeans, a tight t-shirt, and a loose cardigan. This to say: she’s dressed like pretty much any other 19-year-old woman. I move over to let her bodyguard sit beside me. “Actually, Jay, it’s cool,” she says. “Why don’t you and Lisa sit at the bar.” This is unplanned. Jay and Lisa exchange looks, silently deciding who should tackle this one. “Guys. Seriously, it’s okay,” she says again, and her entourage disappears to the other end of the restaurant without a word. “Sorry about that. I hope that doesn’t make me look like a brat or anything,” she says. Not at all. One of the pains of this racket is trying to have real conversations with someone, knowing their reps are ready to jump in at any second. “When I was younger, I used to listen in on my cousin’s phone calls with her boyfriend. I thought I was so sneaky,” she says. “It must have been really annoying. I suppose the constant eavesdropping now is karma.” That extends to her whole life; she’s not exactly tabloid-fodder, but a simple video of her dancing at a basketball game went viral. She’s definitely watched. “Actually,” she looks down as a glass of water is set in front of her. She looks at the server, thanks her. “Here’s the thing: does it feel weird to be recognized by strangers? Of course! But it’s such a selfish little problem, isn’t it? It’s so far removed from other people’s experience that complaining about it seems stupid, doesn’t it?” She goes on, absently tracing shapes in the moisture on her glass. Behind her, Jay cracks a cell phone against the bar, throws it at a nearby table. The bartender shouts in protest, a kid who’s just had his toy confiscated. People just want to be noticed, she says. “We all want to be validated, to have enough people know us that we don’t feel so small anymore. We want connections with people who’ll tell us, yes, you are worthy! People want fame because they mistake the two. How ungrateful does it look then when celebrities complain about fame. It’s a slap in the face of normal people’s needs.” She takes a drink. So, Kate Upton: she’s kind of dark. It’s surprising because the defining quality of Kate Upton’s pictures is this playfulness that walks the line between innocent and sexy. She’s not a vamp; she’s
more of a pin-up. Which, it should be said, is what makes her so damn alluring. Also, her saying things I’ve always thought. That’s incredibly sexy, too. “Shoot.” She says it in a way that tells me it’s kind of a catchphrase for her. “I didn’t mean to sound depressed. I’m incredibly, incredibly lucky. I just don’t want to forget it.” What’s that like, I ask, knowing that so much of one’s success is a result of a genetic lottery that she won big. “It’s incredibly surreal,” she says. “I know that’s not an original idea, but I’m not in a particularly original position.” So,instead of being consumed by that fortunate injustice, she’s trying hard to earn it. “It’s more of an existential thing,” she says. Yes, she works out—she works her ass off, in fact—but it’s more than that. “I owe it to myself to make something out of me other than a pretty face.” She reads. She’s working on a kind of graphic novel based on George Saunders’ stories that she’ll never show anyone. She’s figuring out the best way to give back, without it becoming a branding issue; she’s becoming fluent in economic policy, politics. It’s overwhelming, she says, but it’s not like she doesn’t have spare time—waiting around between shots, waiting around in airports. Her first nonprofit venture is a micro-loan organization. Anonymously, she fronts the cash for would-be businesswomen in Detroit. “You don’t have to include all that,” she says. “If there’s anything worse than celebrities talking about how hard it is to be famous, it’s celebrities talking about their fucking charity work.” A man in a black shirt and black tie walks towards us with his phone out, poised for a photo. I raise my hand to brush him off, but Jay is already beside him. The man in black smiles like a salesman who’s used to diffusing situations, but his mood changes at the sight of Jay’s novelty-sized hands, waving a finger in front of him. I turn back to Kate as Lisa mouths “five more minutes.”
“That’s funny,” I say, wounded. “What about you? There’s no Knick catching your eye?” Instead of answering, she takes another bite of salad. “Really, can we be honest? My job is to look like I would be fun to have sex with, right? Isn’t that enough? What people are really asking when they ask a celebrity about their love life is: tell us who you are having sex with, so we can then picture the two of you famous people having sex. But I think I give people enough of that.” “Besides,” she says, “we were talking about your marriage. How’s your sex life?” Because I don’t look like Kate Upton, and because I’m not special, I change the subject. “Exactly,” she says.
We’re talking about horseback riding—something she was nationally ranked in before she got famous for her looks. I realize that I’m perilously close to being aroused. It’s easy to forget that you’re talking to Kate Upton, until you realize that, in fact, you are. It’s then that simple things take on a kind of erotic weight. Kate Upton eating strawberries in her salad. Kate Upton saying the word “fucking,” and now Kate Upton riding a horse. You don’t want to objectify someone like this, especially when you’re sitting right in front of her. Instead of fighting it, I mention it. How does it feel to be objectified like she is? Her answer is typical, at least for Kate Upton: “It’s inevitable, right? It’s just a question of scale for me.” She’s right, of course. There’s a crowd growing behind the window, as if this restaurant was the set of a morning show. Someone has tipped off the Twitter-verse and cameras are appearing. People would notice Kate Upton even if she were waiting tables here. Now, it involves mobs. Jay cracks his knuckles and neck and walks outside to deal with the crowd. A gladiator. She will be objectified. It’ll happen in this interview wherein I try to humanize her. You’ll read what she said, silently editing out anything that doesn’t conform to your picture of Kate, making her into whatever you like. A silly model, maybe. A symbol of feminity. Or worse, the mouthpiece for all the pretentious ideas of a frustrated writer. At least, that’s what I did. It’s called the halo effect. We’re easily duped by beauty—we attribute positive qualities to things that are more attractive. If you’re handsome, you’re a good guy. If you’re ugly, you’re hiding something. It doesn’t just happen with celebrities and presidential candidates, we do it with cars, computers, washing machines. Of course, it’s all fiction. And so is this Kate Upton.
“here’s the thing: does it feel weird to be recognized by strangers? of course! but it’s such a selfish little problem, isn’t it?”
Instead, we order lunch. While she eats her strawberry spinach salad, she turns the conversation around. I realize saying that is a mild brag: look at me, a supermodel is interested in my life, not yours. And, okay, that may be part of it. But, mostly, she wants to eat. “You’re married.” She says, pointing at my ring. “Either that, or you didn’t want me hitting on you. This way, my feelings won’t get hurt.” I tell her I do that whenever I talk to models, otherwise Victoria’s Secret shows would turn into one big catfight, models clawing each other for my affection. “It’s true. Models really go for the slightly pudgy, writer-look.”
THE LEATHERSOLED DESERT BOOT
the
SPRING style
EDIT
Based on the boots worn by British officers in the Second World War, the updated desert boot makes for the perfect casual footwear. Here the soft crepe sole has been replaced by sturdy leather, and the upper enlivened with a shock of colour. Relaxed enough for the weekend, but still appropriate for casual days at the office. CANALI LINEN SPORTS COAT, $1,645; CANALI SPREADCOLLAR SHIRT, $325; J.CREW JEANS, $210; PAUL SMITH BELT, $255; ACNE DESERT BOOTS, $510; BOSS ORANGE SOCKS, $20.
six trends to get on board with, and how to make them look their best. Fashion Director: Luke Langsdale Photographer: James Lincoln
路APRIL 2012
110 SHARPFORMEN.COM
路SHARPFORMEN.COM 111
APRIL 2012
THE LEATHERSOLED DESERT BOOT
the
SPRING style
EDIT
Based on the boots worn by British officers in the Second World War, the updated desert boot makes for the perfect casual footwear. Here the soft crepe sole has been replaced by sturdy leather, and the upper enlivened with a shock of colour. Relaxed enough for the weekend, but still appropriate for casual days at the office. CANALI LINEN SPORTS COAT, $1,645; CANALI SPREADCOLLAR SHIRT, $325; J.CREW JEANS, $210; PAUL SMITH BELT, $255; ACNE DESERT BOOTS, $510; BOSS ORANGE SOCKS, $20.
six trends to get on board with, and how to make them look their best. Fashion Director: Luke Langsdale Photographer: James Lincoln
路APRIL 2012
110 SHARPFORMEN.COM
路SHARPFORMEN.COM 111
APRIL 2012
THE BARBOUR JACKET No one makes a better casual outdoor jacket than Barbour. Developed in 1894, the iconic British waxed canvas coat is made for rainy, chilly spring weather. As the waxed cotton wears over time, it will acquire a distinctive patina like a fine leather jacket. When the wax treatment eventually wears off, mail it back to Barbour and they will happily re-proof it for you. BARBOUR BEDALE WAXED HUNTING JACKET, $440; BARBOUR BEACON CHAMBRAY SHIRT, $122.
TONEON-TONE Going monochromatic—layering an outfit with different shades of the same colour— adds subtle depth to your look. It’s also a good way to transition from daytime to evening clothes with minimal effort. COTTON SHIRT, $175, AND SILK TIE, $115, BOTH HUGO.
·APRIL 2012
112 SHARPFORMEN.COM
·SHARPFORMEN.COM 113
APRIL 2012
THE BARBOUR JACKET No one makes a better casual outdoor jacket than Barbour. Developed in 1894, the iconic British waxed canvas coat is made for rainy, chilly spring weather. As the waxed cotton wears over time, it will acquire a distinctive patina like a fine leather jacket. When the wax treatment eventually wears off, mail it back to Barbour and they will happily re-proof it for you. BARBOUR BEDALE WAXED HUNTING JACKET, $440; BARBOUR BEACON CHAMBRAY SHIRT, $122.
TONEON-TONE Going monochromatic—layering an outfit with different shades of the same colour— adds subtle depth to your look. It’s also a good way to transition from daytime to evening clothes with minimal effort. COTTON SHIRT, $175, AND SILK TIE, $115, BOTH HUGO.
·APRIL 2012
112 SHARPFORMEN.COM
·SHARPFORMEN.COM 113
APRIL 2012
The other
SUIT
navy blue, grey and black will do you well the rest of the year. this spring, however, suiting in khaki, brown and earthy green is the order of the day. Fashion Director: Luke Langsdale Photographer: Sean Cook Location: Barcelona
路APRIL 2012
118 SHARPFORMEN.COM
路SHARPFORMEN.COM 119
APRIL 2012
The other
SUIT
navy blue, grey and black will do you well the rest of the year. this spring, however, suiting in khaki, brown and earthy green is the order of the day. Fashion Director: Luke Langsdale Photographer: Sean Cook Location: Barcelona
路APRIL 2012
118 SHARPFORMEN.COM
路SHARPFORMEN.COM 119
APRIL 2012
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April 2012
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