CITIZENS OF HUMANITY No. 4

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MADE IN LOS ANGELES

EST. 2003

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pg. 5

PUBLISHER: CITIZENS OF HUMANITY EDITORIAL DIRECTOR: ZIO FULCHER ART DIRECTOR: RAFAEL PULIDO FASHION DIRECTORS: SIMON MILLER & CATHERINE RYU COPY EDITOR: DAVID CAPLAN

CONTRIBUTING WRITERS: CAROLINE RYDER, MOLLY SIMMS, NATALIE ALCALA, CALEB NEELON, STUART EASTWOOD, LESLEY MCKENZIE, ANN BINLOT, JARED FREEDMAN, CATHERINE WAGLEY, JANE HELPERN, JULIE HAIRE CONTRIBUTING PHOTOGRAPHERS: KASSIA MEADOR, BRIAN W. FERRY, JULIA GRASSI, BRIGITTE SIRE, JENNILEE MARIGOMEN, ABBY ROSS, YONI GOLDBERG, ESTEVAN ORIOL, STEFAN KOCEV, THOMAS VAN DER ZAAG, SKYLER DAHAN, RAFAEL PULIDO SPECIAL THANKS TO: JEROME DAHAN, AMY WILLIAMS, GARY FREEDMAN, JARED FREEDMAN, SIMON MILLER, CATHERINE RYU, NICK FOUQUET, KELLEN TUCKER, WENDI & NICOLE, RUDI KONICZEK, SUNNY LEVINE, HANNAH SKVARLA, LAUREN CONRAD, MR. CHOW, MAX CHOW, JOAN BURSTEIN, JAMIE HOLLOWAY, MISTER CARTOON, HUNTER, TRAVIS LETT, SHINOLA, JULIE POINTER, NATHAN WILLIAMS, KINFOLK MAGAZINE, SUZANNAH SINCLAIR, SAGE VAUGHN, MICHELLE MUNGCALL, MARIO SANCHEZ, MARINA MORRISON-KEILER, STEPHANIE JANSSEN, ALICIA WALKER

CITIZENS OF HUMANITY 5715 BICKETT STREET HUNTINGTON PARK, CA 90255 WWW.CITIZENSOFHUMANITY.COM

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. NO PART OF THIS PUBLICATION MAY BE REPRODUCED IN WHOLE OR PART WITHOUT WRITTEN PERMISSION FROM THE PUBLISHER. THE VIEWS EXPRESSED IN THIS PUBLICATION ARE THOSE OF THE RESPECTIVE CONTRIBUTORS AND ARE NOT NECESSARILY SHARED BY CITIZENS OF HUMANITY AND ITS STAFF COVER: PHOTOGRAPHY BY RAFAEL PULIDO PREVIOUS SPREADS: ARTWORK BY SUZANNAH SINCLAIR BACK COVER: PHOTOGRAPHY BY RAFAEL PULIDO

CONTENTS

PG 06

NICK FOUQUET PG 08

SHARK TOOTH PG 10

COH JAPAN PG 12

LEAD APRON PG 14

FAR WEST PG 24

SUCRE PG 26

RUDI KONICZEK PG 32

BOSS SELECTOR PG 38

SAGE VAUGHN PG 42

THE LITTLE MARKET PG 48

MYTH MAKING PG 54

MR. CHOW PG 58

JOAN BURNSTEIN PG 60

SIMON MILLER PG 62

MR. CARTOON PG 66

TRAVIS LETT PG 72

PALM TREES PG 80

JEROME DAHAN PG 86

THE ROSE BOWL FLEA MARKET PG 92

SHINOLA PG 96

CALIFORNIA PG 106

PRESERVING THE SEASON PG 112

SUZANNAH SINCLAIR PG 118

LOCALS ONLY PG 128

JENNILEE MARIGOMEN

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nick fouquet Text by Caroline Ryder Photography by Kassia Meador

TUMBLE DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE WITH VENICE BEACH’S VERY OWN RAD HATTER, WHO MAKES CHAPEAUS THAT ARE ONE PART HEADWEAR, ONE PART ART PIECE AND ONE PART SOUL MATE

Nick Fouquet is in his hat shop in Venice, California, measuring a client’s head with a contraption that looks strangely medical but will ensure the wearer enjoys a perfect fit. It’s like a scene from a Dickens novel, evocative of a time long past when young fashionable gentlemen sat still to have their crowns measured by chapeau makers. Except in this instance, the hat maker looks like a surfer, there’s incense burning and a map of Bohemia pinned to the wall, and Frank Sinatra is being piped through the air.

hat.” Each hat is fit for adventure or could just as well be hung on the wall as a talking point, interesting enough to be shown as well as worn. There’s a bulbous straw hat that has a poem tied around the binding. It is in a sense a classical hat, except you’ve never seen one quite like it. Fouquet’s entire shop has that feel—like you’re someplace familiar, someplace you read about in a storybook once, except this time, you drank the Kool-Aid. Fouquet does not personally own many hats. That’s because people are always stopping him in the street, asking about his hats. “So I’m like, ‘Come to the shop, let’s see what you like,’ and they will say, ‘But I want that hat. The one on your head.’

I’m like, ‘OK let’s see if it fits.’” In Montana, there was a kid making knives out of deer and elk horn, who wanted to trade blades for brims. “Sometimes I like to barter, one craft for another.”

Fouquet is wearing a denim apron tied with a rope, dusty boots and a beige hat that reads nous sommes toujours fort—we are always strong—around the band. He has a feather tattoo on the underside of his right arm. In the back of the shop, Fouquet’s right-hand man Ruben steams some felt, and a hiss fills the shop. Ruben places the felt on one of a number of differently shaped wooden blocks, used to form the hats.

“After blocking it, you sand the felt, iron it, then stitch the lambskin sweatband,” he explains.

He prefers to be called a hatter rather than a milliner, because he never studied millinery per se. What he did instead was travel far and wide. He painted in Colorado, and worked on a ranch.

He went to Peru, to Nepal. Then he returned to Los Angeles to work with a man he calls his mentor, Christophe Loiron of Mister Freedom, who taught him the principles of quality and craftsmanship that he uses today, principles informed by the tradition of vintage American workwear. Fouquet took all those influences and made them his own, and put them on heads in Los Angeles, in France, and maybe in a cabin in Montana. “I never learned any rules,” says Fouquet. “I had to learn my own way. It’s not like we are reinventing the wheel… but what we are doing is adding our own sauce.”

French tourists wander by and ask questions. One of them happens to be Isabel Marant, noted fashion designer. She waxes nostalgic about the days when she too was using her hands to bring her designs to life. They speak in French—Fouquet’s first language. “Mon pere est Francais,” he tells her. Another Frenchman wanders in, asking if Nick makes “les chaps?” Nick smiles and shakes his head. No chaps, just chapeaus.

His chapeaus hang from the wall, in shapes that evoke Peru, the Wild West, the Artful Dodger, or all of the above. Fouquet points out one that “was sort of inspired by a Clint Eastwood film called Pale Rider, and was then reshaped into a Mad Hatter

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sharktooth Text by Molly Simms Photography by Brian W. Ferry

A BROOKLYN BOUTIQUE THAT MELDS MODERN DESIGN WITH VINTAGE TEXTILES

Atlantic Avenue, downtown Brooklyn’s main drag, is dotted with countless lookalike boutiques and restaurants. But among the storefronts selling African shea butter, screen-printed tote bags and vegan cookies is a hole-in-the-wall shop that offers something entirely different. Barely bigger than most living rooms, Sharktooth is an aesthetic oasis—a blend of antique and modern design that you’ll want to spend hours exploring.

There, owner Kellen Tucker sells vintage textiles (primarily floor coverings and quilts) to a clientele who appreciates the value of good construction that has stood the test of time.

also offers some of the quilts she’s collected over the years, but with an ingenious twist. To eliminate the kitschy, country look of the quilts, she dyes them in dark, neutral tones. Though you can still see the individual fabric patterns on some of these dyed pieces, the color brings them into the 21st century.

“I think a quilt that has the perfect palette, and the perfect pattern, and the perfect weight is an amazing thing, and I would never dye it. But so many of these are so ‘granny,’ with bright calico fabrics. I like modernizing something really old, and repurposing it.”

Originally from Portland, Maine, Tucker moved to NYC in 2011, but her interest in well-worn fabric started much earlier.

“It started about five years ago with quilts,” she explains. “I was living in Athens, Georgia, and I started seeking them out.

It was like I had a revelation with an object. I really wanted to understand and learn how these quilts came to be: all of the hands, and time, and fabric that went into them.” Tucker started mending some of the more damaged quilts, and selling them online. Soon, she moved from Athens to Brooklyn, “sort of on a whim,” and took a job at an antiques shop. She honed her retail skills there, and after a year or so, a bail bonds office came up for rent a few blocks from where she was working— Tucker pounced. “It just all happened so quickly. It was such a good deal and it just seemed really well timed. Like a gift, in a way. So I rented it, took a month to renovate, and here I am.”

She sources her inventory at flea markets throughout the northeast, a process she relishes. “I really like to get up early, so that’s part of the appeal; you have a reason to get up at 4:30 a.m. to go to the flea markets. There’s a bizarre satisfaction I get out of that—having camaraderie with all these people who are 25 to 40 years older than me. It’s just a fun community to be a part of.”

Asked about the shop’s incongruous name, Tucker starts to laugh. “It’s purely sentimental. A friend of mine would say, ‘That’s sharktooth’ instead of ‘That’s cool.’ The name was a way to lighten all the pressure of having a store in New York; I didn’t want to overthink things.” But that’s not the moniker’s only benefit. “If I turn the music down in the store,” she says, “I can hear what everyone’s saying on the sidewalk. Every time someone outside notices the sign, they say it out loud, which is so fun. I’ll just hear, ‘Sharktooth! Sharktooth? Sharktooth,’ all day long. It’s so easy to take yourself too seriously, and it’s kind of a reminder to lighten up.”

Now a year old, Sharktooth specializes primarily in antique rugs. In the shop, they sit in lush piles, a riot of warm colors that contrast with the whitewashed floors and walls. Tucker

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coh japan Text by Natalie Alcala Photography by Julia Grassi

CITIZENS OF HUMANITY OPENS ITS FIRST FREESTANDING STORE IN TOKYO

It’s been a busy year for Citizens of Humanity. In addition to opening a Los Angeles pop-up-turned-permanent shop, traveling to Haiti with Christy Turlington, landing two new creative directors, launching an e-commerce site and collaborating with Deer Dana on a limited-edition T-shirt, the premium denim brand has just opened its first global shop in Tokyo, Japan.

include a turquoise-blue floor reminiscent of California’s coastline, vibrant fig trees, ambience-setting Noguchi lamps and black-and-white photography of pop-culture icons who influenced Dahan’s Paris upbringing, including Jane Birkin and Serge Gainsbourg.

Besides being easy on the eyes, the shop also offers a few innovative extras. There is a “fitting salon,” where shoppers can try on styles in a relaxing environment that includes delicious coffee and delectable bites, and it is the first apparel shop in Japan to use Apple’s ultra-high-tech Square system.

Situated amongst the sensational shopping available in Garden Square Harajuku, Citizens of Humanity Japan spans 1,040 square feet and captures the essence of American style while catering to the savvy Japanese shopper. “Japan is an incredibly important and influential market,” explains Citizens of Humanity founder Jerome Dahan. “The Japanese consumer has a sense of style and appreciation for beautifully designed and crafted products. With the rich history of denim and indigo products, it is a country and a people that inspire us as we create new products.”

On November 7, the store held a private celebration to toast the opening, which garnered a packed house of 400 American and international style stars. Guests were treated to Pierre Hermé macarons, Deer Dana T-shirts, tunes by DJ Aska wink wink and an intimate, six-song performance by L.A. musician Sunny Levine. “Sunny Levine’s music captures the essence of California, which is one of the two places the brand is most inspired by (the other being Paris),” explains Williams. “His recordings feel like California—relaxed and cool—and we wanted to bring that part of our brand to our new location in Tokyo.”

President Amy Williams adds, “With a strong history and appreciation of denim and American clothing and lifestyle, creating an environment that shows off this product and other products that enhance this story is key.” Story-enhancers include the brand’s women’s and men’s apparel (the spring 2014 collection arrives in January), home décor, art books, special collaborations, covetable bric-a-brac and inspiring giftables. The sleek store also houses a range of unique buys from a handful of friends, including Fabric Brand & Co. denim, Getting Back to Square One knitwear, Kassia Meador photography and RTH accessories.

According to Levine, COH made bringing the Cali vibes an easy feat. “The actual store is designed in a way that makes you feel like you just stepped out of Harajuku right into Los Angeles,” he says. “I had such a great time in Tokyo with Jerome and the whole team. Japan kind of blew my mind.” Also mindblowing is Levine’s rapid rise to fame, which he thanks in part to the brand’s continued support. “It has truly been a pleasure working with Citizens this year,” he adds. “They have given me all the love and support of an old-fashioned record label, while leaving me with complete creative control and no drawbacks.

I’ve had the opportunity to make records, score films and even design surfboards under the COH umbrella.” Stay tuned for more from Levine and Japan soon.

As for the concept store’s enchanting décor, crafting the space was a labor of love for both Citizens of Humanity and its longtime collaborator, creative consultant Rene Holguin. It was modeled after the company’s aforementioned West Hollywood showroom and features a sophisticated blend of French and Southern California influences from the 1960s. Clever touches

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leadapron Text by Caleb Neelon Photography by Brigitte Sire

RARE BOOK DEALER JONATHAN BROWN’S SHOP IS CLEAN, BRIGHT AND CAREFULLY DESIGNED, JUST LIKE THE ART AND PHOTOGRAPHY TITLES HE CAREFULLY SOURCES AND PRESENTS

To imagine a bookstore dealing in rare and old books might bring to mind a small and dimly lit shop with dusty books piled to the ceiling. Jonathan Brown’s West Hollywood space LEADAPRON is nothing of the sort, presenting magnificent and hard-tofind art books by artists such as Richard Prince, Helen Levitt and Vija Celmins in a sunny and clean gallery setting alongside contemporary art and photography. Bright white and thoughtfully designed, it’s the sort of space a new father would crave amid the household chaos of little new arrivals—in fact, that’s exactly what it was.

indifferent, cruel, violent, etc. Having children was the event that basically got me out of the house and into a gallery space, and my vision was nothing more than an expression of my own interests and enthusiasm.

So what are some of the qualities and factors that go into a book being rare and valued? It isn’t simply being a “limited edition” or being out of print?

I wish I had a more florid and exciting answer, but something becomes rare when there are few extant copies. It boils down to supply and demand. If 500 copies of a book are printed, as in the case of Ballet by Alexey Brodovitch, and 3,000 people want that book, then it’s bound to become rare. I know I sound didactic, but you are looking for an answer beyond the truth. There are shades of rare, and in this case, if you read an article about this beautiful book Ballet and the amazing typography and haunting photos, and wanted to run down to your local bookstore to buy a copy, you would be disappointed. Could you eventually find one? Yes, in all likelihood, but would you pay the price? It’s very similar to classic Porsches and Ferraris, and old Patek Philippe watches and Romanée Conti wines and Cuban cigars. There were only so many produced at a given time. Age helps rarity, but then again a new Air Jordan sneaker hits the market and it’s sold out in minutes … it’s a bit like finding a unicorn.

Jonathan, just to begin, what’s the story behind the name LEADAPRON? Everyone that wears an apron is a worker. Whether a waitress/ waiter, sculptor, shoemaker, etc. These are the people that keep the fabric of our lives intact. They are the tradespeople, craftspeople, artisans … they are the people that make the things that furnish the culture and drive the civilization and define the age we live in. So an apron to me is a uniform or symbol of this proletarian work outfit. A lead apron is what you wear when you get an X-ray. It is a protective shield. Truthfully, a lead apron protects the sexual and reproductive organs, which create life. So my thinking was that LEADAPRON protects the work of the workers and carries it safely into the future with this protective shield. I didn’t want the business to be Jonathan Brown, as it’s not about me.

I imagine you must enjoy the chase and the digging. Can you tell a story of a find that was the sort of discovery that keeps you doing what you do?

Every great find was the result of hundreds of hours I spent learning and searching and turning up nothing, so that socalled “score” was nothing more than delayed payment. There are innumerable great objects and items out there waiting to be unearthed, dusted off and placed under gallery lights, to draw an archaeological comparison. One needs to acknowledge that if you see a rare item in a gallery, the person who selected or decided to place it there has curated their space and presented this wonderful object for you to buy, and furthermore, there was an entire history to the relationship the dealer has had with this object. So if you go into a space and see something and run home to find it on the Internet you are essentially stealing the dealer’s work and disregarding their time and profession and putting a patch over their eye and branding them the pirate when in fact it is you. This is why there are no more bookstores and most galleries struggle. I am very optimistic and don’t mean to sound vindictive or angry because I am not. I love what I do and feel very fortunate to be doing it and just hope to continue doing it. As for the story, swing by my place, hold something in your hands, smell it or gaze at it and if you love it and want it I will tell you the story: the story from its nativity and creation to the journey it made to find its way to you.

You had been informally dealing and collecting rare books for years before you opened your space formally, but you had a different career. Can you talk about what you did?

Yes, I had a lot of careers, which in many ways make sense with what I do now. In brief, I studied architecture and philosophy, then worked for an architectural firm, directed theater, was a journalist and writer, and then spent 15 years as a neuropsychologist of sorts.

You took on a physical space for LEADAPRON amid the chaos of living with a baby—that resonates with me rather strongly as I’ve got an almost-one-year-old myself. I can’t imagine trying to keep a home with kids as carefully and cleanly designed as your space, of course. What guided your vision for the design of the store and gallery?

Well, my house was the first real space from which I worked. I remember having people over and quickly putting the baby toys and strollers away and cleaning the place up in a mad obsessive swirling manner. Aside from the indescribable joy of having children, having them changes you and motivates you. Your life is not entirely your own anymore and some aboriginal, ancestral part of you kicks in and echoes that you have to provide and kicks you into gear … that’s what happened to me, and after leaving a field in which I wasn’t ultimately satisfied and spent so many years in, I had this explosion of energy to devote to what I do now. I was always interested in beauty and design and objects, and that was my defense against so much reality that was

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far west

VA S Q U E Z RO C K S , C A

Styling by Wendi & Nicole Photography by Rafael Pulido

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sucré Text by Molly Simms Photography by Rafael Pulido

THIS ORCHESTRAL POP BAND INSPIRES AND ENCHANTS

Vocalist Stacy Dupree is a mere 25 years old, but she’s already logged more hours playing in a band than most musicians around. The Tyler, Texas, native was a mere 8 years old when she teamed up with her sisters and brother to create a band called The Towheads. That cutesy group later became the indie-pop juggernaut Eisley, the critically acclaimed act that has put out four albums since 2005. But these days, Dupree’s becoming well known for her latest musical project, Sucré. She’s exploring new sonic territory alongside some very able partners—her husband, Mutemath drummer Darren King, and multi-instrumentalist Jeremy Larson.

for him. He was and still is the best drummer and the best performer I’d ever seen live, hands-down,” she explains. “I was really apprehensive about working with him once we started dating, but the actual recording process was really amazing. I have so much respect for him as a producer. And I love that I can make him be honest with me. We’re at the point where I really want to know his opinion, and I’ve got a thick skin.”

Dupree’s been playing in a band since the dawn of the Internet, and she’s seen the way that a group’s web presence is integral to its success nowadays. “It’s kind of sad in a way that you can’t just be an introverted artist in your bedroom creating records anymore,” says Dupree. “You have to constantly sell yourself, and everybody’s doing it. There’s this pressure to be visible, and sometimes I’m like, ‘I just wanna delete my Instagram.’

But the truth is, if I did that, no one would come looking for me. I used to be way more introverted, and now I’m sharing pictures of my life, and my baby, and my family. But I think it’s important to give to people, and to share. It’s beautiful in a way.”

There’s something atmospheric and overwhelmingly lovely about the band’s orchestral tunes, so it’s no surprise that the blogs went crazy for Sucré when its first album, A Minor Bird Bird, was released in April 2012. The origins of the project were as homegrown and organic as the record. “In 2009 or so, my husband and I were in Springfield [Missouri] visiting his family for the holidays,” recalls Dupree. “He was like, ‘Hey, you should meet my friend Jeremy. He’s got a studio down the street.’ After a couple hours, Darren said, ‘Wanna play us something you’re working on?’ I didn’t know what to expect at all; it seems like everybody these days has a studio and is making music. So I didn’t know what was about to hit me, and it just blew me away—I was speechless. It was this classical piece that he’d orchestrated and I thought, ‘Oh my God, this guy is a secret genius.’”

Having been on a major label during her time in Eisley, Dupree has certainly experienced both the positive and negative aspects of the music industry. “There’s also the unknown of it all. You’re working for this goal, but you never know if you’re going to get there. I mean, that’s life, I guess: You’re kind of working in the dark. But what I try to stay focused on is just loving to make records. I’ve been doing it since I was 14, and there’ve been so many highs and lows along the way. [Eisley] was signed to a major record label and went on tour with Coldplay, and then our record label asked us to tour with Hilary Duff. We were like, ‘No. We don’t want to do that; it’s not really who we are.’ And they dropped us like that. So you really have to just focus on who you are and stay true to yourself.” But she’s at peace with the creative process. “I just try to keep my head down and keep working, and hope it’s well received. I’m not saying I’m totally void of feeling pressure to advance my career. I definitely have had my struggles along the way with wanting that so badly, and dealing with disappointment and false hope and all that. But I’m at the place now where I don’t care anymore, and it’s really freeing.”

From there, a collaboration between the three seemed only natural. “Immediately I thought, ‘Wow, it’d be amazing to work with him,’ but I didn’t want to get my hopes up. After we left, he asked if I wanted to sing on a piece he was working on, and I was floored. That snowballed into making songs for fun, sending bits and pieces of music back and forth between Texas and Springfield. The record was pretty much made long distance; we got together a couple times in one place, but just for little bitty stretches of time. I’ve never made a record like that before.”

But instead of touring the country in a cramped van in support of the record, Dupree and her husband were nurturing a different side project: their baby, Scarlett. In fact, when we speak over the phone, she’s just back from a family outing. “We had a little playtime in the park: me, my husband and my baby.

Sunday funday.” The new member of the Dupree family has certainly made an impact on the way the singer sees her place in the music world. “Having a daughter gives me this crazy motivation to do what I love and to do it well. It might sound typical or obvious, but I just want to be an inspiration to her.”

What’s on the horizon for Sucré? Finishing up their as-yetuntitled next album, and of course, hitting the road in support of it. “That’s our main goal right now,” says Dupree. “We hope to really give this next record a proper run. Because we got a lot of opportunities from the last record, but I got pregnant instantly. So this time, our hope is to make more of a splash.” She’s certainly got no plans to slow down now. “I never thought I’d be working with people as talented as Darren and Jeremy,” she says. “I want to do it for as long as I can.”

And while working with a spouse has the potential to be difficult, Dupree is loving the experience. “My band Eisley toured with [King’s band] Mutemath in 2007, and I had so much admiration

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rudi koniczek Text by Stuart Eastwood Photography by Jennilee Marigomen

PASSIONATELY PRESERVING THE ART OF THE 20TH CENTURY AUTOMOBILE

Vancouver Island is home to countless artists—from painters and potters to carvers, jewelers and glass blowers. A restorer of classic automobiles—defined by the Classic Car Club of America as distinctive in engineering or coachwork—might not be an obvious candidate for inclusion in this group. Rudi Koniczek, however, more than merits it: The cars he restores are significant examples of 20th-century automotive art.

An apprenticeship with Mercedes-Benz showed his talent and skill. Koniczek eventually became the national troubleshooter for the company, traveling across Canada to repair vehicles and training others in the mysteries of fuel injection and diesel engines. In 1969, he made his first trip to Victoria, a journey that changed his life.

Koniczek left Mercedes-Benz in 1971 to work for himself and returned to Victoria, where he opened Autohaus, a shop dedicated to the service and repair of European cars. Despite its success, Koniczek decided to follow his heart and turned to the restoration of Mercedes-Benz 300SLs. “Always follow your passion” informs every aspect of his life and is often mentioned in his conversation. “What I do isn’t work, it’s a way of life, and money will follow passion. And if it doesn’t, you’re still having fun,” he says.

On its own, the Mercedes-Benz 300SL, under whose spell Koniczek fell as a young man, would qualify as art. “It’s one of the sexiest things I’d ever seen,” recalls Koniczek, now 64, interviewed recently in his casual, comfortable workshop near Victoria. So sexy, it turns out, that the car steered a newly immigrated Koniczek down the road to becoming a mechanic and, eventually, a world-renowned 300SL restorer. With its low, wide stance, long nose and top-hinged, gull-wing doors, the 300SL combines the attributes of elegance and sportiness with performance that remains impressive by contemporary standards.

It dashes from zero to 60 mph in about eight seconds and can attain a top speed of 150 mph.

Once a car arrives at Rudi & Company, the teardown begins.

Depending on the condition of the vehicle, a full restoration can take up to 18 months and cost around $300,000. In the calm, bright workshop, 300SL components are quietly being repaired or refurbished. Says craftsman Ross Morrison, “The cars are so valuable, it is necessary for everyone to maintain focus. A moment’s inattention can result in damage that can be expensive to repair.”

From its introduction in 1954, the Gullwing appealed to celebrities of the era, with Sophia Loren, Clark Gable and Pablo Picasso becoming owners. Contemporary owners include designer Ralph Lauren and Jay Leno, who has written extensively about his car.

Oprah Winfrey sold her 1954 Gullwing in 2008 to benefit the Arts and Culture Workshop at the Oprah Winfrey Leadership Academy for Girls, which she established in South Africa.

Eight craftsmen work with Koniczek, the least experienced of whom has been with him for 18 years. Once a car is completed, Koniczek and the owner will take it on a 300-mile drive on Vancouver Island. If satisfied, he delivers the car with a one-year warranty.

Other famous Mercedes owners bring their precious vehicles to Koniczek, including celebrities and heads of state, but he won’t name them out of respect for their privacy.

Gooding & Company, a premier international auction house, recently sold a special lightweight 300SL that had passed through Koniczek’s care, after having been discovered in a rat-infested garage in California. The pre-sale estimate was shattered, with the car realizing $4.62 million when the bidding ended.

Flamboyant, irreverent and an engaging conversationalist quick to laugh and jest, Koniczek seems to derive great joy from life, and anticipates his clients will do the same. Before accepting a commission, Koniczek insists potential clients travel to Victoria for a few days to become acquainted. Sharing conversation over a few meals, Koniczek decides whether expectations and enthusiasm for the project are mutual, and if there’s a basis for friendship. Occasionally, Koniczek declines to offer his services.

“Rudi has gained a reputation for quality craftsmanship and integrity. His business stems from a distinct passion for the cars, which is abundantly present in each finished project,” says Gooding & Company specialist Paul Hageman, who adds that Koniczek is widely regarded as a leading expert on the 300SL.

Besides overseeing the restoration of more than 100 300SLs to date, Koniczek and his craftsmen restore a plethora of significant motoring icons, including Mercedes-Benz models from the 1920s and 1930s, Bugattis, Talbot-Lagos and Lagondas.

The most important thing he can pass on, says Koniczek, is his passion for life, particularly in relation to young people. Since the early 1970s, Koniczek has welcomed students doing work experience into his shop. Two have made a career with Koniczek, working with him over 20 years. Students who go elsewhere are offered Koniczek’s support in finding the career that will best suit them, as whatever they do should “not be a job but a lifestyle,” he says.

The list of countries from which cars arrive testifies to the quality of his work, with clients in the United Kingdom, Switzerland, Hong Kong and the United States. Koniczek never advertises, relying on the strength of his reputation. With 63 cars waiting to receive attention, the business plan seems to work.

Koniczek’s childhood was difficult. Born in Germany in 1949, he immigrated to Canada with his family in 1953 and settled in Toronto. His German heritage prompted bullying by his classmates. Recalling these experiences provides the foundation for one of the truths that guide his life: “Never hurt anybody, and never be hurt by anybody.”

With a happy marriage to Patti, seven successful adult children, and his professional success, Koniczek is a man—and an artist— who seems to have found both recognition and contentment living the values he espouses.

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boss selector Text by Caroline Ryder Photography by Abby Ross

MUSICIAN SUNNY LEVINE’S EPIC COLLABORATION

Sunny Levine is just days away from finishing his most ambitious collaborative project to date, Boss Selections Vol. 1, featuring no less than 14 songs by 14 different musicians, all of them written and recorded by Levine in his Los Angeles studio.

up, they had two hours to get the song down. The track is called “One of These Days,” and it is about unrequited love.

“It was such a great thing, hearing it in his voice.” And that was the first track Levine recorded for Boss. “It was so soulful, it set the record off on such a nice journey,” says Levine.

His collaborators include drummer James Gadson (Bill Withers, Beck), his aunt the actress Rashida Jones, and his friend Amir Yaghmai aka Young Dad, one of L.A.’s most in-demand indie guitarists, who plays in Julian Casablancas’ band and toured with Charlotte Gainsbourg. “I didn’t want to make another record where I am the artist,” explains Levine at his studio one afternoon. “So I just picked everybody that I would want to work with and made a mixtape, basically. A really cool mixtape.”

The second of Levine’s all-time heroes on the record is James Gadson, whom Levine describes as the “best drummer alive.” He certainly is among the most recorded drummers in RnB history, having played with everyone from Bill Withers to Ray Charles to Frank Sinatra to Beck. Gadson has hardly ever been recorded singing since the beginning of his career with pioneering soul and funk band Charles Wright and The Watts 103rd Street Band, with whom he had a hit called “Love Land.” “He’s a legend,” says Levine.

Today, RnB singer Orelia is coming to the studio to lay down her vocal track, but before she arrives, Young Dad is going to stop by and record some bass lines for the track Rashida recorded the night before. Levine will be up until 4 a.m. tonight wrapping everything up before getting on a plane to New York in the morning, where he is recording yet another track for the album, with Brooklyn indie singer Nick Nauman of Keepaway. When Levine returns, he will have about two weeks to take care of overdubs and mixing; it will be a sprint to the finish for sure, but luckily for Levine, making music— on his own and with others—is what he was born to do.

Singer Brenda Russell is the third of Levine’s heroes on the record. “She is someone I grew up up knowing, but we never made music together.” Levine says Russell was curious to check out all the “weird sounds and manipulation” he specializes in. Between working with Russell, Masekela and Gadson, Levine was in producer heaven. “Those three are crazy heroes of mine and to have them come in was a true gift,” he says.

Each song took a day to record, and the majority of artists on the record he had never worked with before. Like Phlo Finister, fashion-forward pop singer and best friend of Peaches Geldof dubbed the “next big thing” by Vice’s Noisey. Then there’s Aska Matsumiya from the synth band ESP. “I met her in Japan when she DJ’d the party for the opening of the Citizens of Humanity store,” says Levine, who had been influenced by certain subgenres of 1970s and 1980s Japanese pop for a while.

He had been searching for someone who could sing in that style, and when he found Aska, the search was over. “I always wanted someone who has that kind of voice, with a little bit of broken English, and then an accent. Slightly strange and beautiful.”

Music is in Sunny Levine’s blood—his grandfather is Quincy Jones, his father is producer Stewart Levine (Simply Red, Joe Cocker, BB King, Dr. John, Minnie Riperton, and Jamie Cullum) and his uncle is producer QD3 (Tupac Shakur, Ice Cube). Becoming part of the family business was a no-brainer. After fronting the band Matta Haari, Levine decided to try his hand at production and found himself working with artists such as Mickey Avalon, Hugh Masekela, Ariel Pink, Pete Yorn and the Happy Mondays.

Levine recently wrapped up his third solo album, Hush Now, an “emotional rollercoaster” of a record. Boss has an entirely different flavor, he explains. “It still has an emotional throughline in that there is soul in every song, but it’s generally more optimistic and up tempo. A lot more grooves and rhythm.

And it leans on a few key influences—that 1980s British take on RnB, and splashes of deep house.” When people ask him whether it has been hard finding continuity between the tracks, because they have all been recorded with different artists, Levine reminds them of the common denominator. “It’s my take on those different artists,” he explains. “Even if the songs all have a different sentiment, the vibe of it is the same.”

Aska really loved the track recorded by Young Dad, who strolls into the studio halfway through our interview and grabs a bass guitar. As well as being a go-to indie guitar hero, Young Dad also sings on all the Daedelus records and has worked with the Gaslamp Killer. Young Dad’s track, “Midnight Fools,” “is kind of like an electro RnB track inspired by home décor and succulents,” says Levine, in all seriousness.

Young Dad explains that he and Levine are so close (they have been tight since high school) they don’t even need words to communicate their ideas about music. Levine will just do a little dance, or move his hands in a certain way, and Young Dad will understand exactly what’s up. “The best thing about this project is just how social it has been,” says Levine. “You have to be organized yet open-minded when dealing with so many different creative personalities—something between a shrink, an interior designer and a boxing trainer. But I think I found my perfect outlet with this format. Hopefully I can just keep making records under this Boss Selection umbrella.”

Three of his all-time musical heroes are featured on the record.

First, Hugh Masekela, the South African singer and trumpet player who contributed to Paul Simon’s Graceland Graceland. It was a now or never opportunity—Masekela was coming to L.A. for two days only, on one of which he would be performing, so Levine quickly wrote his version of the “dream Hugh Masekela song” and demo’d it in his voice. When Masekela showed

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Top row, from left: Aska Matsumiy, John Gold, James Gadson; Middle row, from left: Brenda Russell, Rashida Jones, Hugh Masekela, Grace Kelly Bottom row, from left: Orelia, Young Dad, Pete Yorn, Sunny Levine.

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sage vaughn Text by Julie Haire Photography by Stefan Kocev

THE LOS ANGELES-BASED ARTIST DELVES INTO OUR RELATIONSHIP WITH NATURE, SOCIETY AND REALITY WITH PLAYFUL PAINTINGS THAT ARE FULL OF LIFE

Sage Vaughn likes to paint birds. The average person might not consider them much, but for Vaughn, they are the most common reminder of the chaotic universe we live in. “I try to believe that I am doing things; I make plans, and everything matters so much,” he says. “But you catch a glimpse of a bird and you’re like, it’s all just a giant, wild, chaotic mess, and it’s really lucky if I can make it from point A to point B on a daily basis.”

Another hallmark of his work are the pronounced drips of paint that roll down his canvases. It was not, at first, intentional, he says, but the nice byproduct is that they allow him to get out of what he calls his “critical head space.”

“For me, it’s just an excuse not to be too fussy,” he says. “It’s nice to relax a little bit, or for my head to relax. I think all the drips kind of fell into a blind spot in my critical eye in the beginning.

And then people really started to kind of champion them in my work, which is so bizarre. There’s so many other things in the work that you want to talk about and have acknowledged, and everyone’s really excited about these drips.”

And from that, you make art that people remember.

Vaughn was born in Oregon and raised in Los Angeles. He didn’t set out to become an artist; he actually went to college to become a doctor but dropped out when he realized he hated school. Later, while taking an art class to finish his degree, he created a painting for an assignment he felt was not worthwhile—paint a painting exclusively in shades of white—and even though he lamented it as a waste of time, his contemporary art history teacher bought it for $250. “What more validation could an art student want?” he says. “It felt great. I thought, I’d like to be part of that.”

But now, especially with the larger-scale pieces, he concedes that they add history. “You can tell the order in which it was painted almost,” he says, “what paint was laid down first.” Plus, he adds, “I really relish paint. I love paint. I like painters who like to paint.

There’s a few of them out there who really enjoy the chemicals and the viscosity and the way that it moves when you apply these weird liquids on a vertical surface and what happens. I mean, I can literally watch paint dry all day long.”

For the past 10 years or so, he’s been making art that stands out for its often whimsical, quirky take on nature vs. modern society.

He has had solo shows in Los Angeles, New York, London and Geneva, among other cities. Two of his most well-known series are all about contrasts: In Wildlifes, sweet, colorful, vibrant animals like birds, butterflies and owls are set against stark backdrops of urban cityscapes—helicopters, apartment buildings, traffic. In Wildlives, innocent-looking young children are similarly portrayed against raw city life. The juxtaposition undoubtedly works to relay a comment on society, though Vaughn is not trying to tell anyone what to think.

That something accidental like paint drips would become significant in his work is emblematic of the kind of artist Vaughn is. His father was a commercial artist and taught him the basics of drawing and visual expression, but the majority of his work is the result of “trial and error,” which is the way he likes it. “For the most part I am self-taught,” he says. “I make all my mistakes in public. I like being self-taught because I’m excited to see what I can learn; I’m very invested in furthering my skills and knowledge of what I’m doing. I see other artists that don’t have that kind of drive. They have what they do figured out, and they just kind of do it.”

“I think in general most people take away kind of a dystopian [feeling], but to me it’s really just about a setting,” he says. “It’s almost like the backdrop on a stage. What’s important to me is the sense of it. I’m not trying to tell people what to do with it.

It’s a feeling.”

Painting is a solitary pursuit—as Vaughn says, he spends all day every day in his Pasadena studio, literally working for a year to do an art show that lasts three hours. Fortunately, he loves every bit of it (even watching paint dry). “I enjoy the process, so I commit my time to it,” he says. “It’s not just random bursts of creativity.”

That goes for environments too; he’s not trying to single out any place in particular in his work. He says the cities he paints are usually anonymous, so you can’t recognize if it is Mexico City or East L.A. “Usually it’s just the idea of a city—a lived-in city,” he says. “I find the right city that has a dark doorway in it so I can get the feeling I want.”

He is a workhorse. That must be what Malibu Magazine meant by saying “he is the only artist with a blue-collar mentality.” Between art, surfing and the baby he and his wife just adopted, he says there is not a minute of his day that is not accounted for. “I tend to fill up everything,” he says. “If I can work more, I work more.”

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the little market Text by Lesley McKenzie Photography by Yoni Goldberg

FRIENDS LAUREN CONRAD AND HANNAH SKVARLA TEAM UP IN THE NAME OF SHOPPING AND GLOBAL GOODWILL

The Little Market’s name belies its purpose. Born of a large idea, the online marketplace is the brainchild of two friends who share an even greater philosophy on women’s empowerment. Hannah Skvarla and Lauren Conrad met in 2006 during their studies at Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising (FIDM). Over time, the pair discovered mutual interests in travel, design and women’s social issues. On their first trip together, the duo embarked for Bali, where they discovered local market treasures; this, followed by trips to El Salvador, Tanzania and Uganda, was where the seed for The Little Market began to take root.

Together, they began to brainstorm ways to provide an online platform for the struggling local female artisans they encountered in developing countries across the globe that would enable them to sell their wares.

invited into their workshops, and sometimes even their homes, and given the opportunity to learn about their art and to hear their stories. We have met inspiring people over the last couple years, and it makes The Little Market that much more important to us.”

Together, the duo has curated a well-edited collection of pieces that meet the criteria of items that they would either love for themselves or wish to gift someone else. Look for wares including beautifully structured vanity cases from India, hand-blown glassware from Mexico and hand-woven, naturally dyed Bolivian alpaca scarves. Bestsellers so far include a Nepalese white-felt dove, and a block-printed apron made in India—products close to the duo’s heart after visiting the women behind them in March this year. “We seek out handmade products that are meaningful for their beauty and the change they create for the artisans who craft them,” adds Skvarla.

Fueled by their trip to Africa in 2012, L.A.-based Skvarla and Conrad teamed up with U.S.-based fair-trade non-profit Global Goods Partner, and spent the next year developing products with 10 artisan groups around the world, from countries including Mexico, India and Bolivia. Developing partnerships was no easy task, but through Global Goods Partners, the founders overcame the unexpected challenge of finding groups that employ women and share their same values and workplace standards—including a safe work environment and fair wages. “Our artisan partners are members of community-based organizations, social enterprises and artisan cooperatives,” explains Skvarla. “The revenue from selling their handmade items helps them improve the quality of life for their families and their communities. Our priority is to find strong women-led community groups with quality handmade products.” The Little Market also seeks to boost women whose businesses are limited due to their remote locations, small-scale production levels, and lack of technical support.

Along their journey, Skvarla and Conrad crossed paths with Citizens of Humanity Creative Director Jared Freedman, who approached the founders about a partnership with the denim brand. “We love that Citizens of Humanity’s philosophy emphasizes our role in society as good people,” says Skvarla, in reference to Citizens of Humanity’s shared commitment to social causes. In October, The Little Market debuted its collection at Citizens of Humanity’s Los Angeles-based concept shop, where you will find handmade pieces being carried alongside Citizens current offerings.

Twenty percent of all in-store proceeds go to The Little Market’s charity of choice, Destination Reflections, which is dedicated to helping female victims of sex trafficking. “They are a small group which needs financial support in order to expand and empower women,” notes Skvarla of the organization, whose designs are currently carried on the site. “We founded The Little Market to create a place to shop where you could feel good about every purchase because of the positive impact on the lives of the artisans,” she says. “We wanted to create a place where a global community can come together to combat poverty, empower communities, and work toward social justice.”

The launch of The Little Market is a natural fit for Conrad and Skvarla, who have merged their backgrounds in entrepreneurship and community activism. Skvarla sits on the Human Rights Watch’s California Committee South and Women’s Rights Committee, and serves as a co-chair for the Los Angeles Network Steering Committee. She also channels her passion for global issues into a regular column online at HelloGiggles. Conrad is known for her role on the MTV series Laguna Beach, and as a New York Times bestselling author with her novels LA Candy and The Fame Game, which she has penned in addition to her personal advice books, Lauren Conrad Style and Lauren Conrad Beauty. Conrad also has a number of successful collaborations to her name, including an LC Lauren Conrad line with Kohl’s in 2009, and contemporary classics line PaperCrown in 2011. In 2012, she launched XO(eco), an environmentally friendly cosmetics and travel accessories line.

So what can we expect from the online destination going forward?

The friends hope to open a permanent Los Angeles boutique in the future as they continue to expand their offerings with new artisans from around the globe—with trips to Thailand and Guatemala already on the calendar. And if Conrad has her way, a return trip to Bali could be on the horizon, too. “It is simply one of the most beautiful places you can visit. We spent a couple weeks traveling around Bali and of course shopping the amazing market places. We found beautiful hand-painted silk wraps and white stone garden statues that we both still have in our homes,” she explains. “Now that The Little Market has launched, we will have to go back soon!”

“Our favorite moments are spent meeting with artisans from the different groups that we work with,” explains Conrad. “We are

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myth making

Photography by Thomas van der Zaag

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mr. chow Text by Caroline Ryder Photography by Estevan Oriol

FOUNDER OF THE EPONYMOUS MR. CHOW RESTAURANT CHAIN LOOKS FOR MASTERPIECES IN ALL AREAS OF LIFE, BE THEY IN MODERN ART, DECO FURNITURE OR NOODLES Mr. Chow is an aesthete, PR showman, networker, collector and culture maven, his many success stories—from his collection of eponymous Mr. Chow restaurants, to his worldclass art collection, to his handpicked circle of jet-setter friends from Andy Warhol to Mick Jagger—all informed by a simple philosophy. It’s called Qiao Mer (pronounced “Chowmer”), and it means special technique, know-how or knack; the notion that every last detail is perfectly planned and executed so as to reflect the universal plan. “Mother Theresa says if you clean the toilet with love you will find God there,” he says by typically dry means of explanation. “What she said is true, though. Nothing is trivial. Every detail matters. And so, sometimes, nothing is so important as cleaning the toilet.”

continued to design boutiques and restaurants in London. In his early 20s, while still trying to succeed as a painter, Chow came up with an idea to bridge East and West and demonstrate the greatness of China in a way that London would appreciate.

In 1968, the first Mr. Chow restaurant opened in Knightsbridge, offering Chinese food served by Italian waiters with an easyto-understand menu. “No one on this earth truly understands Chinese food because it is so complex, so sophisticated,” he says. “There are so many ways to make an egg, not just boiled, scrambled or fried. The culinary vocabulary is so complex. I wanted to make a statement about how great China is and how great Chinese food is.” A Beverly Hills location soon followed in 1974, and then Midtown New York at 57th Street in 1978.

“I really wanted to communicate my roots and culture when I launched Mr. Chow, which involves theater, food and art. But mainly it was to bridge the East and West.”

Indeed, Mr. Chow’s restaurant business, founded 45 years ago, has sprouted according to that notion—that each detail should be a reflection of the grand plan. “My restaurants are always controlled environments,” says Chow. “Everything has a focus, every detail, even the way a waiter puts a glass on the table, is thought through.” So the body language of his wait staff, the lighting, the chair upholstery—all are somehow a reflection of Mr. Chow’s very soul? The hyperbole, of course, is by design, as much a part of the Mr. Chow experience as the delicious noodles on the plate. Think of the food as a Qiaodriven reflection of this larger-than-life persona, 74 years in the making.

Mr. Chow instinctively knew that a restaurant is only as successful as its clientele, and thus set about creating a Studio 54 of fine dining. His fabulous friends from the worlds of art and fashion became fixtures at his restaurants, and each bite of a meal at Mr. Chow seemed coated with that glamour. In fact, as he once told a British newspaper, he is less in the restaurant business than “the glamour business.”

Today, Larry Gagosian, Mick Jagger and L’Wren Scott, Ed and Danna Ruscha, Angelica Huston and Robert Graham, and Balenciaga designer Nicolas Ghesquière frequent Mr. Chow’s establishments. Back in the day, it was the Beatles and the Rolling Stones. John Lennon ate his last meal out at Mr. Chow New York. Andy Warhol would order food to be polite and just push it around, so in the end Mr. Chow would serve him an empty plate. Basquiat enjoyed the wine list while sketching figures at the restaurant. Groucho Marx once came and had a hamburger delivered—proof, if there ever was, that Mr. Chow’s was a place to see and be seen, even more so than a place to order food.

Born Michael Chow in Shanghai, China, in 1939, he is the son of the Peking Opera Grand Master Zhou Xinfang, who was already a star by the age of 7. His sister is actress and former Bond girl Tsai Chin. His mother was a tea heiress. At the age of 13 he was sent to a British boarding school. He never saw his family again—Zhou Xinfang was imprisoned, and his mother killed, during Chairman Mao Zedong’s Cultural Revolution.

He studied architecture at St. Martin’s in London and tried to launch himself as a painter, completing 300 to 400 works in a period of eight years and achieving some gallery acclaim. But he struggled to succeed as a painter. “I quit, basically. There was no support system for me because I am Chinese. That is a truth. Jean-Michel Basquiat, before him there were no black painters in the art world he inhabited. And there was no support system for me in London because I am Chinese.

And no support system in China, where blood was running through the streets… it’s hard to have much culture in those conditions.”

Peter Blake—the pop artist who designed the Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper’s album cover—was the first of many artists to draw or paint Mr. Chow, resulting in a now-famous collection of portraits of the proprietor. Keith Haring loved the green prawns, which he immortalized when he drew a portrait of Mr. Chow as his own green prawns. Warhol made a black-andwhite silkscreen of Chow in 1984. Julian Schnabel did a large oil portrait of Chow in 1985, on a canvas of broken, painted plates.

Thanks to his architecture background, he also worked as a designer and in 1965 designed Smith and Hawes hair salon on London’s Sloane Avenue, which was sold to Leonard of London, the hairdresser who made a star out of Twiggy. He

Yet there are a few portraits Mr. Chow prizes above all the rest. Minimalist artist Dan Flavin made an ink sketch of him

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at the erstwhile Los Angeles restaurant L’Orangerie, which he signed and gave to Chow. “It is one of my treasures,” he says.

A second treasure is a double happiness Buddha signed by Andy Warhol and given to him on his birthday. And perhaps his favorite piece of all—an ink painting by the great Chinese artist Qi Baishi commemorating his father and his 50 years on stage as an opera singer, called “50 Years of Stage Life Celebration.”

“Why I treasure these three objects so much? Well, it is because all of them were free, of course.” He pauses for effect before erupting in laughter.

Byun Kwan Sik and Kim Eun Ho. Her art training ended when her family moved to the U.S. in 1994. She enrolled at the Otis Parsons School of Design in Los Angeles, where she created a small collection of simple evening dresses and tailored suits and showed it to a buyer for Neiman Marcus, who placed an order and launched Chun’s career as a fashion designer. Chun opened her flagship showroom in 550 Seventh Avenue in New York, joined CFDA in 1991 and was touted as “one of the top five young designers in America” by Bernadine Morris, fashion writer for The New York Times. The following year Chun and Mr. Chow married and shortly afterward Chun left Seventh Avenue behind to have their daughter, Asia Chow, who was born in 1994. Mr. Chow also has a daughter, China, and son, Maximillian, from his previous marriage.

This smart, self-conscious wit is as much a part of Mr. Chow’s carefully crafted persona as are the noodles, the artsy friends and those round, owlish glasses of his. About those glasses, made for him by Cutler & Gross in London: He adopted them in homage to the architect and artist Le Corbusier and renowned French Art Deco designer Émile-Jacques Ruhlmann. (He owns one of the largest collections of Ruhlmann’s furniture in the world.) The glasses do more than pay homage, though; they help Mr. Chow become visually memorable or iconic. “For me this is ‘trade dressing,’ just like Andy Warhol with his wig and Don King with the hair and the cigar,” he says. “Also, and this is serious and a little sad to say—but it detracts a little from my Chineseness, which has been necessary at times.” When he explained his trade dressing as a means of overcoming cultural and racial stereotyping to a reporter at London’s Telegraph, he was mocked for it, the reporter going so far as to call him pathetic. But Mr. Chow was perhaps more realistic about the true (and ongoing) history of racism than the reporter—let’s not forget that fear of miscegenation remains alive and well, and that until very recently, in the 1950s, it was illegal for a Chinese man to legally marry a white woman in California. Such realities, ugly as they may be, are as thought provoking to Mr. Chow as a Ruhlmann artwork.

“I collect racism every day. Every day. Because I am a collector.

Also, I have learned how to use that prejudice and weakness.”

For the last decade or so he’s lived with Eva and Asia in the impeccable L.A. mansion he designed, filled with one of the world’s most impressive private collections of contemporary art.

“I have no idea how to develop a good eye, but I can say the following—there are four things to being a great collector. One, courage. Two, money. Three, knowledge. And four, the eye. These are the four things one should possess, although you can get away with three.” (It is also worth mentioning that Mr. Chow collects shoes, and has kept every pair of shoes he has ever owned. He owns several of the Duke of Windsor’s slippers and shoes, which he bought at auction.)

While the art collection may be impressive—think Keith Tyson, Peter Blake, Nam June Paik, a two-story Keith Haring mural and a 1973 portrait of Mr. Chow by Ed Ruscha made entirely from food—the house itself could be considered something of a masterpiece. Modeled on the Museo de Arte Reina Sofia, it features a study that is paneled floor-to-ceiling in macassar ebony, a 16th-century Belgian tapestry and a collection of ÉmileJacques Ruhlmann deco furniture that is among the world’s most comprehensive. There is a leather-lined elevator that is identical to the one in Hermès in Beverly Hills, which he designed. He says the guest bathroom is among his favorite rooms in the house.

“It’s a necessity, and that’s why I love it very much,” he quips.

His wife Eva has ascribed the beauty of the home to its perfect proportion. “Eva is quoting Mondrian,” says Chow. “Mondrian said if the world had perfect proportion there would be no war.

Proportion is everything. When you have perfect proportion you can’t help but strive for harmony. You must have alignment. Even colors have to be aligned. You have to have a lot of discipline structurally to design, and you cannot deviate. If you do, you will be all over the place, in a disorientated house, and you won’t be able to put your finger on why. But if you are true to the work, so to speak, then God will reward you, with the chance of masterpiece.”

He has a complicated relationship with Chinoiserie, for example—the decorative style created in the West and inspired

by Chinese artistic tradition. It is art in which “all the women are dragon ladies and prostitutes, and all the men have Fu Manchu mustaches,” says Chow. It’s the kind of art you can find in many of his restaurants, though; he set aside his personal feelings for the aesthetic. “Chinoiserie was a very racist kind of thing,” he says. “But it has its own evil grooviness.” In the 1980s, fashion designer Giorgio Armani went to Mr. Chow in New York and was so impressed with the owner’s flair for architectural design that he gifted tuxedos to all the wait staff and invited Mr. Chow to design Armani’s Rodeo Drive boutique in 1987 and later, in 1999, the Giorgio Armani boutique at the Bellagio in Las Vegas.

Mr. Chow’s personal life has been as glamorous as his public endeavors. He was married to Vogue’s Grace Coddington, then to supermodel Tina Chow (who died of AIDS in 1992, two years after their split) and is now married to Korean-American fashion designer Eva Chun, who wore a Vivienne Westwood gown when they married and is as intriguing and glamorous as her husband.

And this, perhaps, is what Chow has been striving for all his life.

The chance of masterpiece. But living life so acutely aware of just how perfect it could be can’t be the most relaxing way to live. Perhaps that is why after more than 40 years, Mr. Chow is painting again, revisiting the work that he gave up so many years ago when he became a businessman, host, art-world figure, designer and man about town. “Yes it’s true that I stress all day long,” he says. “But things are never out of place.”

Born in Seoul, South Korea, Chun was invited at age 11 to study with two great masters of Korean traditional watercolor,

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joan burstein Text by Ann Binlot Photography by Stefan Kocev

THE STYLE ICON WHO OPENED BROWNS, A LONDON BOUTIQUE SO INFLUENTIAL IN THE WORLD OF FASHION THAT EVEN THE QUEEN TOOK NOTE

Before there were multi-label concept stores like Opening Ceremony, Colette and 10 Corso Como, there was Browns, the storied U.K. fashion boutique that introduced London to designers like Sonia Rykiel, Calvin Klein and Comme des Garçons, and helped launch the careers of Hussein Chalayan, John Galliano and Alexander McQueen.

me to working in fashion instead of just admiring it and acquiring it. It’s because of my husband that I went into fashion.”

Burstein’s success didn’t come without failure; she ran the high street chain Neatawear in the 1950s and 1960s, only to see it collapse. The Bursteins lost everything, including their home, but she says the experience made her appreciate life more. “We were faced with having to start from the very bottom,” says Burstein.

“I do think you’ve got to be hurt a little at some time in your life to achieve what you really want to achieve.”

Joan and Sidney Burstein acquired the shop on 27 South Molton Street back in 1970 when her son Simon worked at its former incarnation for William Piggot-Brown. “It had the style and slightly quirky feel to it that appealed and we were looking for,” recalls Joan Burstein, who is now 87 years old. So Burstein and her husband Burstein purchased the shop from Piggot-Brown, and kept the name Browns in his honor. Soon Browns became the fashion destination in London, expanding to 23, 24, 25 and 26 South Molton Street.

At the moment, there are seven Browns shops throughout London—in addition to the flagship, there is the Sloane Street location, one sells menswear, two are dedicated to bridal, another carries fine jewelry, and Browns Focus features the work of up-and-coming designers. “It’s all an extension of an original thought,” says Burstein.

From the beginning, it was always about a carefully curated sales floor for Browns. Back then, it wasn’t so easy to find international labels at your local department store. There was no Internet that exposed consumers to almost every brand out there, so Burstein brought the labels to the customers. Among the labels she famously introduced was Sonia Rykiel, which Burstein came across when Lady Rendlesham introduced her to The Shop on Sloane Street, which eventually became another Browns outpost.

Browns Focus, which opened in 1997, gave Burstein a chance to lure a younger shopper and highlight emerging talent. It was there that she first sold Hussein Chalayan, when the Browns publicist at the time, Janet Fishgrund, recommended him to Burstein. More recently, Browns Focus has carried designers like Christopher Kane and Meadham Kirchhoff. “Young designers are our future, as far as business is concerned,” says Burstein.

“I love to see what young people are doing, and I love to be surrounded by young people because they’re free in their thinking and they’re not conformists.”

Burstein brought Calvin Klein to London after approaching him on the dance floor at New York’s Studio 54 in 1981. She told him she wanted to sell his clothes. He agreed. Then there was the discovery of Comme des Garçons while on a trip to Paris.

Burstein, who is affectionately known as Mrs. B in the industry, just had to have the avant-garde label at Browns. Again, Burstein made it happen, opening Comme des Garçons’s first shop-inshop in the United Kingdom. She followed with shop-in-shops for Giorgio Armani and Donna Karan.

One young designer of the moment Burstein sees having a bright future is Simone Rocha, who she says is “talented with an understanding of quality and a good business sense.” Even as an octogenarian, Burstein is still open to hearing about new designers. “I am always looking and welcoming anything that is recommended,” she says.

Although Sidney sadly passed away in 2010 at 93, Burstein still keeps Browns a family affair. Her son Simon Burstein is the CEO and her daughter Caroline Collis is the company’s creative director. Her granddaughter Charlie Collis started out in the stockroom and now runs the website.

Burstein became a fairy godmother of sorts, discovering fashion designers who would eventually become household names. Before a pair of Manolo Blahniks was the desire of Carrie Bradshaw, the designer who gave the shoe brand its name worked selling denim for Burstein at Feathers, a London shop that she and Sidney owned in the 1970s. In 1984, Burstein was so taken with John Galliano’s French Revolution-themed graduate collection at Central Saint Martins that she put it in on display in the windows.

“I look for pure talent, innovation and originality,” says Burstein of her knack for finding designers before their breakthrough moment.

The Queen of England acknowledged Burstein’s contribution to the fashion world, honoring her on her 2006 Queen’s Birthday Honors List with a CBE (Commander of the British Empire). “I couldn’t believe it!” remembers Burstein, who accepted the award wearing an ensemble that consisted of a mélange of her favorite designers, including Jil Sander and Zoran.

Burstein, who trained as a pharmacist, had no idea that she would become one of the most respected names in fashion. “I knew nothing about fashion, other than my own indulgence, and I was always loving clothes, loving style,” recalls Burstein. “Never thought I would go into a career of fashion until I met my husband, and he was in the fashion business, so he introduced to

With more than 40 years of Browns under her belt, Burstein doesn’t plan on calling it quits anytime soon. “Only when I tire of it,” she says, “which I can’t see happening, as it’s an exciting business, and when it stops being exciting, that’s when I’ll say farewell.”

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simon miller Text by Lesley McKenzie Photography by Brigitte Sire

ONE NEW ZEALANDER’S QUEST FOR THE PERFECT JEANS REVOLUTIONIZES THE MEN’S DENIM WORLD

Simon Miller distinctly remembers the first pair of jeans he ever owned. “My mom bought me a really cool pair of Levi’s,” he says.

“They may have been acid-washed because I was skateboarding back then. I was pretty proud. I was stoked.”

come with a love of classic, five-pocket jeans and a lot of very classic details. I love a coin pocket. I love old Levi’s and that sort of stuff. So if anything, I pared down a lot of the stuff that had gone on before and made the jeans look a little bit more classic,” he says. Ultimately, the line was picked up by Barneys, where it is still carried today.

These days, he’s more excited than ever about the denim he’s sporting—and for more reasons than one. It’s the result of a passion that began with his first part-time sales associate position during high school at a local store in his hometown of Wellington, New Zealand, and culminates in his recent appointment as the Men’s Creative Director for Citizens of Humanity.

Meanwhile, Miller also struggled with the fact that his name was associated with the brand. “I always felt like it was too personal,” he laments. “I was Simon Miller, and it was very hard to see Simon Miller as a brand.” In 2011, Miller split ways with the brand but maintains partial ownership. “I’m proud of it,” he says. “It was five years of real struggle, but it did give me an opportunity to learn and to put me in a place where I knew how to make jeans.”

Miller is arguably one of New Zealand’s biggest fashion success stories. Upon his graduation from Victoria University, where he majored in English and history, Miller was faced with a career crossroads. “I was kind of left with the question of, What exactly do I do?” he says. “I wasn’t cut out for academic work, that was for sure. I loved being around jeans. I couldn’t explain it. The easiest thing to do was to get into retail.”

Armed with his arsenal of knowledge and experience, Miller applied himself to his next passion project in 2012: a Japanese denim project in conjunction with Ron Herman. The line, Fabric Brand, launched in 2013 to overwhelming response, adding another notch to his belt of denim success stories.

And so his boutique, Fabric, was born, filling a void in New Zealand’s retail scene, thanks to its highly edited selection of some of the world’s most high-profile brands, including Kenzo, Carven, Junyo Watanabe, Maison Martin Margiela and, not surprisingly, Citizens of Humanity.

Among Miller’s legion of fans from his Simon Miller days were Jerome Dahan and Jared Freedman of Citizens of Humanity.

Citizens of Humanity President Amy Williams approached Miller to come onboard as Men’s Creative Director, a position that afforded him the opportunity to work alongside the likes of Dahan and Adriano Goldschmied, who share Miller’s pioneering spirit and commitment to top-notch construction. In this capacity, Miller has been charged with bringing a singular direction and focus to the brand’s menswear line.

But when Helmut Lang, which had been purchased by Prada in 1999, discontinued Miller’s personal favorite jeans circa 2005, his focus shifted to filling what he saw as a gaping hole in the denim market. “I was devastated,” he says. “I really liked that very clean simple aesthetic to begin with. I was so particular about fit that when it changed, there wasn’t really anything else on the marketplace that I liked.”

So what’s on the slate for Miller’s first collection, debuting fall 2014? “I love seeing details replicated across the entire brand so that you get a look. You can really identify the particular details with a particular brand. We’ve looked at all the wash stuff and kind of tried to do some updated details on the jean,” he says.

Like Miller’s other choice designer, Comme des Garçons, Helmut Lang had been working with Japanese selvedge fabrics. “That’s kind of what spurred me on,” he admits. “I really wanted to be able to develop some of these really amazing Japanese washes that I was seeing, but in maybe a contemporary and slimmer fit.”

As part of his research, Miller has just returned from his quarterly denim-scouting trip to Japan, the mecca of raw selvedge.

“Normally, I go to Japan just to see something different,” he muses. “The stores [and the product presented] are amazing.”

Admittedly, Los Angeles’ offerings are also what get Miller’s creative juices flowing, thanks to the wealth of vintage markets around town, which he dubs “the best in the world.” “Going to the Rose Bowl and finding vintage every four weeks, and the Fairfax market weekly, is pretty amazing.”

And so, in 2006, Miller set out for the denim capital of the world: Los Angeles, where, with no official design background to lean on, he constructed his first two pairs of jeans. “They were pretty barbaric when you look at them now,” he laughs. “They’re no oil painting, that’s for sure, but it was a start.” Others in the industry felt differently, however, and in no time, the line was snapped up by retail king Ron Herman and sold out almost immediately.

But don’t expect to find Miller sporting any of his discoveries on a regular basis: His standard daily uniform consists of a Comme des Garçons T-shirt, a pair of Converse and, naturally, Citizens of Humanity—a slimmer fit fashioned from selvedge denim, expected to hit shelves with his first collection next year. “The beauty of this place is that not only am I creatively engaged, but at the same time, I’m still learning stuff every day,” says Miller. “I don’t think that’s going to stop.” Sounds like the perfect fit.

For the next five years, Miller, based in downtown Los Angeles, poured himself into his eponymous line—which he admits was no overnight success. His perfectionist tendencies led him to constantly change details, from fits to washes and pockets, which often led to complaints from buyers who were looking for consistency in the product. Nevertheless, Miller maintained his commitment to his true vision for the ultimate pair of jeans: “I

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mister cartoon Text by Natalie Alcala Photography by Estevan Oriol

HOW A HARD-WORKING KID FROM LOS ANGELES BECAME A WORLD-FAMOUS ART STAR

If Mark Machado wasn’t the legendary tattoo artist known as Mister Cartoon, he could have been a poet. Or a rap star. Or a therapist. Or a motivational speaker. Just like the plethora of platinum-selling recording artists he’s called clients over his superlative career (Cypress Hill, Wu Tang Clan and Outkast, among others), the proud Angeleno is a lyrical genius who can casually drop memorable morsels of wisdom on a range of subjects. Like ink on paper (or, in this case, ink on skin), his words stick with you forever. But how did Mark become Cartoon? A visit to his iconic tattoo shop in the heart of downtown Los Angeles provides further insight.

ever got picked up. I have to have my GPS set, otherwise I’m just driving in circles. So I started to see that, for me, I wasn’t blessed or gifted or talented. It was something that, through hard work and years of trial and error, I would find my style.

How did you develop your style?

Being untrained with just a high school education, I had to learn everything on my own. When I was growing up, I started going to car shows at high schools and football fields. I’d see these guys airbrushing T-shirts, but they were really corny old men and didn’t have any swag whatsoever. I picked up an airbrush and didn’t have a clue what to do. It took a long time to perfect that craft. It was the late 1980s, so there were no clothing companies. We made our own clothes. We would go to the surplus stores and they’d sell big hoodies there. We called them blanks. We would iron on Old English letters with our street or our crew. We were making our own shit, setting things up for the West Coast.

What was it like growing up in L.A.?

I had a dream childhood, raised by a good mother and father who were creative and open-minded. We lived in a neighborhood in the Harbor area, and they encouraged me as a youngster to be an artist. We weren’t rich, but we weren’t poor either. If we didn’t have any money, I didn’t even know about it because my parents were very private about themselves, and very hard workers. The time I grew up, around the 1970s and 1980s, was a crazy time. A very bad time for fashion, but a great time for music. [Laughs.] I’m 44 years old now, so I caught on the tail end of a bunch of old-school shit, music wise. I got into classic rock from hearing my parents—Pink Floyd, The Doors—then got into funk and disco. I was around when all those sounds were new on the radio. My parents were also big movie heads, so they would take me to see movies that were way too advanced for me, which gave me a really weird sense of humor. I remember seeing The Shining, The Exorcist, The Omen. Me and my cousins would be watching TV and some guy would get hit by a car and I would start laughing and they’d sit there in horror. I would find humor in some fucked-up shit, man. Then there were the street fights, graffiti, the lowrider cars—I loved it all.

Music was a big influence, too. KDAY was the baddest radio station out there, and it inspired a lot of my artwork, which was a mix of New York graffiti bombing with L.A. cholo/ vato-style fine line. That’s how I started to get my look, by combining those two styles. The characters were a little more 3D, so shit was coming at you more than traditional old-school penitentiary style. As far as inspiration, I don’t really come with a bunch of point-of-reference pictures. Give me a pen and a paper or a can and a wall and I just go off. A lot of other artists are more calculated and do a bunch of premeditative shit, but I just draw off the dome.

When did you first realize that you had made it?

One of the first moments when I knew that I wasn’t going to have to go get a 9 to 5 job was seeing an album cover I did on Sunset Blvd. on a billboard—it was in 1992, the day the L.A. Riots happened. I remember driving from the Harbor area on the 110 Freeway going north and seeing everything on fire and was thinking, “What the fuck?” I got to Hollywood and I drove down Sunset and my billboard was right there. It was for Kid Frost’s second album, East Side Story. I blacked out and couldn’t believe it! I was in the music business now; I didn’t know how to play an instrument or know how to rap, but I was in the game like other artists were. From that point on I believed that anything could happen. Right after I did that album cover, I started doing album covers for Eazy E. Around that time I met my business partner, Estevan Oriol, at a record release party for a group called Penthouse Players, one of DJ Quik and Eazy E’s groups. He was tour manager for a new group that nobody had heard of at the time—House of Pain.

They had this new single called “Jump Around,” which did pretty well, I’d say. [Laughs.]

Then you received your first paid art job at the age of 12.

That kind of just happened by accident. My old man had a small print shop and he had artists he worked with and they would flake all the time. He started giving me logos, business cards and restaurant menus to design, so I did that and got paid. That’s the only job I’ve ever had. I’ve never clocked in or had a supervisor or anything, which has been both a blessing and a curse. From a young age, I had to be my own boss and was never guaranteed any money.

But you had this incredible artistic talent. Didn’t the money just come?

You know, I was told that I was blessed when I was growing up. I went to Catholic school and people told me that I was gifted and talented, that God had come from the skies and zapped me and made me better than everyone else. I believed that shit for many years, until I got a lot older and started to see that it was less about being zapped from an invisible entity and more about work ethic, follow-through, grinding constantly and stretching the limit. When everyone is going home, I kept working. It’s about doing what the other guy won’t do— visually seeing where you’re going to go way before anyone else can manifest it. This tattoo shop was drawn out way before I

That’s when Estevan started referring you more tattoo clients.

Right. One of the other bands he tour-managed, Cypress Hill, was the first platinum recording artist that I tattooed. They pretty much introduced me and Estevan to a lot of other rappers. Because of them, I was able to tattoo DJ Premiere,

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Outkast and others. A lot of it is through your friends, you know?

Just like how a friend gets you a job at, like, Home Depot. It’s all the same shit! It’s great because celebrities get you exposure, but they come when they come. The rest of the year, it’s just regular people.

cell phone, it’s completely different because it’s still you. When I’m doing something kind of big, like my own signature phone, I’ll balance it out by doing something street and limited edition with Undefeated or Stussy or Supreme. You just have to be careful with what you do. I only do collabs with people who I respect. It’s a balance of going against the grain to come up with that new shit, and keeping people so far in the rearview mirror that they don’t even see what’s coming next. But no one wants to hear Dr. Dre make Techno, so stick to your shit too.

Care to share any wild celebrity tattoo stories?

One time the RZA flew me to New York and didn’t even show up. He flew me out, and I never even got to see him! I started tattooing where the Wu Tang studio was, and I tattooed a Wu Tang emblem on Method Man. I just tattooed all night in that studio—it was fucking nuts! The tables were wrong, there wasn’t any lighting, all their homies were drunk. It was probably the worst conditions in the world, but I got it done. It was just funny because homeboy went through all that trouble to fly me out, but got too busy to show up. You know, I try to talk celebs out of flying me out to their locations like that. I like to just work at my studio. Otherwise they have to pay to fly me out, fly my assistant out, etc. I always tell them, “I ride like you ride, so are you sure you want to do that? I’m going to be staying at the hotels you stay at, and I’ll need a black suburban to drive me around. You sure?”

[Laughs.] It’s better to get tattooed here, honestly.

How do you handle fame?

Fame is like being in a circus. It’s just weird. I have to watch what I complain about, though, because my friends will call me out and say things like, “Fool, that ain’t no fuckin’ problem!” I try to stick with the attitude of gratitude, and never take myself too seriously. It’s not just The Cartoon Show, either. Sometimes Estevan’s pushed up; sometimes I’m pushed up. We’ve been everywhere together, even Milan Fashion Week—it’s crazy. Fame is also about making sure that everyone is happy. Being a tattoo artist, you have to know how to get into people’s heads. It’s a constant process, and I wear many hats. I always have to keep a hat in the graffiti world, keep a hat in the lowrider world, keep a hat in the fashion world, keep a hat in tattoo world. They’re all kind of related, but they’re all completely different.

What was it like tattooing Citizens of Humanity’s founder, Jerome Dahan?

Working with Jerome motivates you because you see how a regular guy made it. You see his work ethic and how he visualizes things. I study guys like him and in a way model myself after them. I think, “Hey man, if Jerome could do it, I could do it.”

He doesn’t have an extra arm or an extra leg or some shit, he’s just a regular human being that works extremely hard, and works toward a vision that he sees. Some people just expect good shit out of their lives, you know? They just have a bar that’s set so high. Meanwhile, other people just want to lead miserable lives.

They settle for barely getting by and struggling because they figure that that’s their destiny. They blame their neighborhood, they blame their family, they blame their heritage, they blame the government. It’s always someone else’s fault. I’ve fallen into that shit before too, of course, but I’ve always had an optimistic attitude. As a result, I don’t accept failure.

What legacy do you want to leave?

I know the common answer would be that I want everyone to remember that I had original style, but the reality is that it’s impossible to control what other people will think when I’m gone. People will be texting at my funeral. Life goes on. I have to die to move out of the way so my kids could take over. I’m sure when I’m 80 they’ll want me to die anyways! [Laughs.] It’s all about enjoying the present moment. If I can get my kids to not obsess and worry about shit and have fun in life, then I’m happy.

I’m only concerned with how my children see me. You never know how much your parents loved you until you have kids.

Do your four kids know that you’re famous?

My kids aren’t old enough to understand what I do. They trip because I’m just dad to them. We’ll walk into a store like Vans and see a cutout of me and they’re like, “That’s my dad!” They’re tripping. I would be a hypocrite if I told them not to be an artist, but a tattoo artist? No. Tattoo shops don’t normally look like my tattoo shop—they’re gangster spots. I think my children will grow up to be creative because they’re around it so much at home.

A shoe for Vans is one of many high-profile collaborations you’ve done in recent years. How do you avoid selling out?

I think selling out is when you put out weak work and you don’t believe in it. If they put you in a jalapeño outfit and make you moonwalk or some shit, you’re out of here. But if you produce some hardcore-looking artwork and place it on something like a

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travis lett

Text by Natalie Alcala Photography by Stefan Kocev

GJELINA’S GENIUS COOKS UP HOMEGROWN FARE IN VENICE

“Pickles, hot sauce, salami, beer and ganja.” This is what Travis Lett will say if you ask him what five items are in his home kitchen at all times. Clearly a man who knows how to have a good time, the 34-year-old chef behind wildly popular restaurant Gjelina is enjoying his role as one of California’s top culinary shape-shifters.

at the University of Colorado Boulder. “We are constantly trying to make sure that the overall experience at Gjelina feels artful and creative,” he adds. “More than look at a dish as art, I believe the food is a component of the overall installation.”

After eating subs, chilling at pizzerias and creating art, Lett traveled to Los Angeles in 2003 to help open a now-shuttered sushi restaurant called Tengu in Westwood. The gig led him to the neighborhood’s W Hotel, where he became NineThirty’s executive chef at just 24 years old. It was there that he began crafting what would become his signature style: farm-to-table dishes that showcase seasonally sound ingredients of supreme quality. He moved on to become a private chef, eventually meeting real estate investor Fran Camaj, who was set on opening a restaurant in Venice. A longtime supporter of the beachside city, Lett partnered up with Camaj to open Gjelina in 2008. “I live in Venice and am passionate about servicing this community,” Lett says. “There was no other option but Venice.” Now a veteran in Cali’s thriving foodie playground, he’s witnessed the scene’s gradual shift in awareness over the years.

“It’s way better, he notes. “Ten years ago, there were very few neighborhood joints with killer food—everything was either fine dining or slop. Now, there are a bunch of cool mid-level places to eat that are casual but have serious chefs and food.”

For the past five years, Gjelina (pronounced “jelina”) has been hooking up Venice residents and visitors with fresh, integritydriven food that sends taste buds on an unparalleled flavor journey, which is why you’d be hard-pressed to find an empty seat at the frequently packed eatery on any given day. Situated at the corner of Abbot Kinney and Milwood amidst the neighborhood’s bustling shopping stretch, the place is hard to miss, thanks to a mythical “Uniwolfcheetah” illustration drawn on an exterior wall by Mexico-born, Venice-based artist Diana Garcia. (Taking an Instagram photo in front of the drawing after dining at Gjelina is quickly becoming a Venice bucket-list item.)

Also hard to miss is the handsome Lett, whose effortlessly cool stance, blue eyes and long, dirty blonde locks have caught the eyes of a host of noteworthy publications, including Vogue, who gave him a two-page spread in their January issue back in 2010.

But Lett isn’t here to model; the man loves to cook. A few of his menu crowd-pleasers include the Maitake Mushroom Toast with crème fraîche and truffle oil (phrases like “life-changing” and “crazy-good” are often associated with this small-plates order), the Tuscan Kale Salad with shaved fennel, radish, lemon, ricotta salata and breadcrumbs (a crisp and healthy starter must), and the mind-blowing Mushroom Pizza that includes goat and fontina cheeses with—you guessed it—more of that glorious truffle oil. So, what’s the chef ’s secret sauce for success? It’s the fact that all ingredients are locally sourced, not plucked from some fantastical food hub in a far-off land. Lett prides himself on building relationships with those vital, behind-thescenes folks who help him deliver deliciousness on a daily basis.

“Working with the community of farmers I have gotten to know over the years has shifted the way I look at food, the way it’s cultivated, and how it should be cooked and served,” he explains.

As more West Coast mom-and-pop joints focus on sophisticated cuisine, Lett also approves another rising interest that he’s been promoting from the start of his career: “The more chefs become interested in farm-to-table sourcing with both meats and produce, the more it will incentivize growers and ranchers to participate in localized food systems and grow with more intention and increased awareness on their overall impact,” he adds. “This movement is here to stay.” On the flipside, one flashy food development he can do without includes the ohso-trendy efforts of molecular gastronomy. “I could easily never see a foam or culinary ‘dirt’ again and it would be too soon,” Lett quips. “Leave the liquid nitrogen alone, guys!”

Stay tuned for more from Lett’s flagship restaurant and nextdoor annex, Gjelina Take Away (GTA), which is a deli-style take-out option for on-the-go types. It’s also a great alternative for people who aren’t lucky enough to secure a spot in Gjelina’s main dining room. (Fan favorites include the Brisket Banh Mi, the Pork Belly Sandwich and the Squash Blossom Pizza.

Expect to utter all the aforementioned food glory phrases here, too.) If you can’t find Lett at either establishment, go for a scenic drive by the beach. Who knows, maybe you’ll spot him “flying down the Pacific Coast Highway on my ‘65 Panhead,” as men who take their ganja with hot sauce often do.

In addition to celebrating the roots of naturally flavorful foods and the farmers who raise them, Lett’s own past is a key source of inspiration for both his cooking practices and visual projects. “Growing up in New Jersey, I ate at a lot of pizzerias and sub shops,” he reveals. “Working-class Italian food was a big part of my early influences in food.” Gjelina’s crispy, thincrust pizzas honor that time in his life, and are infused with a dose of bold, modern ingredients that exercise innovation.

The restaurant’s artistically inclined, decidedly rustic interior was heavily influenced by Lett’s stint as a fine art student

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palm trees M A L I BU, C A

Photography by Skyler Dahan

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jerome dahan Interview by Jared Freedman Photography by TBD

IT’S ABOUT GOOD INSTINCTS AND GOOD PEOPLE FOR CITIZENS OF HUMANITY’S FOUNDER, WHO TALKS ABOUT HOW TAKING THE RIGHT CHANCES WITH THE RIGHT TEAM GOT HIM TO WHERE HE IS NOW

Jerome Dahan says that he is simpler than many people think.

He has no overarching agenda and no master plan. He does have a passion for doing good work and for following his instincts. His passion fuels his design process, which often starts with a spark of inspiration and gains momentum as it progresses to a completed line. His instinct tells him when to stop. He believes he can pinpoint what is going to be, in his words, “amazing.” He doesn’t say it in a self-congratulatory way; it’s just that he believes he knows when the work is good enough to call it finished.

jeans. These references in literature reaffirm that denim jeans are woven into the fabric of our lives.

Dahan wants people to care and he cares about people, as is evident from the interview that follows.

Where did you grow up?

I was born in Paris. I had a different childhood. My parents were divorced when I was really young, so I went from children’s house to children’s house until I was approximately 15 years old.

Dahan was born in Paris. His childhood was not easy, but the way he describes it, without even a hint of bitterness, it sounds like an adventure. Until his teenage years, when his parents were able to care for them, he and his sister grew up mostly in homes for children. He made money through odd “gigs,” learning at an early age to be resourceful, to value the little things—fresh bread and French pastries.

What do you mean when you say “children’s house”?

It’s like an orphanage. Both of my parents couldn’t take care of me at that time. My sister and I lived like that until, I believe, 1975.

What was Paris like for you as a kid?

I remember the streets of Paris a lot more than I remember where I stayed, because I was always in the streets. Either I was with friends or by myself. I was always wandering the streets.

I remember my childhood this way, trying to sometimes feed myself. I didn’t have any money to eat.

He moved to Montreal as a teenager to reunite with his father.

It was in Montreal that he began his path toward design and denim. He followed his father to Los Angeles in the early 1980s and has remained there ever since. He started out working for his father’s company, then Guess and then Lucky Brand. When he left Lucky Brand after almost 10 years, it was to start Seven For All Mankind. Each time he moved, it was because he saw the potential to take a different approach, to learn more and accomplish more.

It’s funny, last night I was just looking on TV. They have a French channel, and they were talking about the Cirque du Soleil. It’s one of the oldest circuses in France. One of my aunts was living very close to that circus. I used to wander the streets with my cousins. One night we tried to get into the circus. We’d get in by the back doors. We almost got caught, so I had to run out. It’s a good memory, because I remember that place. I remember the time.

Dahan knows that jeans have their origins in hard work— sturdy denim with rivets on pockets intended to be worn by miners, farmers and cowboys in the mid- to late 1800s. Many trace denim as a fashion statement to the mid-1950s, when James Dean wore jeans in Rebel Without A Cause.

I went to the parks a lot too. To make money I had to play tricks on people. When you have no money, you have no money.

You try to make a franc to go get candy or eat something. I remember we used to ask people, “I lost the money to buy the bread. My mom is going to kill me if I come home without the bread.” You ask people for one franc. They give you a franc or two francs, and you go out and buy bread for yourself. It was fun. Those things I remember a lot.

Dahan wants his products to help define his customers’ lifestyles. He talks about his idea to shrink the size of the label and re-establish embroidered back pockets and develop a fit for everyone, not just a select few.

His sensibility recalls depictions of jeans in some 20th century novels. In Haruki Murakami’s Norwegian Wood, there are references to denim worn with a white blouse and a thin yellow sweater or rubber boots, suggesting how one is dressed as she moves through life. And in Elmore Leonard’s raw work, he describes how a five-dollar bill is pulled from the pocket of

One of the things I remember when we went to Paris the last time, was when you went into the pastry shop and you said, “I used to always want to get pastries here.” I remember you going in there, and you bought all these

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pastries. The thought that I had was it must be such a crazy dynamic to go back to a place… …and to eat them all.

take that direction. They had different kinds of customers. They didn’t believe they could go that direction. They believed that the jeans were going to change. So I decided to go on my own again.

I really wanted to do what I love. I didn’t want to stop and do something else.

To do everything that you never could.

Yes.

I was trying to get at least $150,000 to start from investors. I said, “I’m going to make it with one jean to start. One jean’s going to be big.” They didn’t want to be involved. I didn’t let go. I said, “I’m going to start anyways.” So I started designing the line right away.

How is that?

It’s great. I wasn’t going to eat half of the pastries I bought, but I was so excited to get back to that place years and years later and being able to buy those pastries. I wish I could have shared them with my cousins.

I was very controversial. There were no back-pocket embroideries.

I did a signature on the back pocket to organize the jeans. I did the regular quarter stitch in the back pocket—with the yoyo pocket with the rivet—to sign from the vintage to the modern jeans.

Everything was coming together very naturally. It was amazing because I saw the product very naturally.

What else did you used to do in Paris?

We used to go to that flea market every Sunday. We used to wake up super early, like around 4 in the morning, and go to a certain place where if you’re early enough they take you to work for the day. It was like selling vegetables or whatever it is. You made five francs, approximately a dollar, the whole day. You help them in the morning to unload the truck. You help them sell during the day. Then you have to load the truck in the late afternoon. After everything is finished, then they give you your five francs. That was a good memory also.

I saw the fit. The fit was very important to me, so I needed to have something universal. I did the fit and I went to a story of washes, because it was something that was coming. I knew it was coming. I felt it was coming, so I worked with the laundry.

What do you love about Paris now?

I love everything about Paris. I love the streets. I love the smell of Paris. I love the noise. When I’m in Paris it brings me back. It brings me back to where I’m from. It brings me all those memories, all those feelings. I don’t look at it like how pretty everything is, but I appreciate every little place that I went through, and I really went through Paris.

Finally, when we saw the line, everybody was so excited.

You’re really known for your fit. How do you fit a good jean?

You have to be very inspired by the new fit. You have to fit because you have a look that you like. And you have a certain character that you want to show on the person and on the jeans.

And that’s why people ask me, “Yes, but how do you fit every single body type?” It fits everybody because I don’t fit the model, just to fit for her. I fit the model as a look. It’s something universal that people can wear.

When did you go to California?

I came to California in 1982. I worked for my dad.

My dad was just starting a line of shirts, of blouses. I told him I wanted to go see my mom in France, and I would pick up some styles and I would do some branded shopping. And I’ll bring up some ideas to make the line, to help for the line. He let me do that. So I went and I came back in L.A. and I put a line together.

It was a line extra because it was on top of the line that was already done. We basically showed that line.

Going back to Seven…

That was a long journey, Seven. It was a long and very short journey, basically. It was a long journey because it was an accumulation of my work over the previous 20 years.

And from 10,000 units we went to 120,000 units that season.

For sure, my dad was super excited. He was super happy. I was happy, I was excited because I felt like, “Wow, I did something that works.”

I wanted the brand to be a global product brand. Seven sold in Europe before selling in the U.S. We shipped first in France, and in France it was selling. Then we shipped in the U.S. and were sold out in less than a week. It was really exciting.

Then what happened?

I did that for three years. That brand was good. The only thing was my dad and his partner were very involved with the sales and everything else in the business. I was just involved with the design, and I felt like the direction was not my direction. I didn’t like the way the company was going, the direction that it was taking. So I stopped the brand.

For me it was like, “OK, it’s the next Guess or it’s the next Diesel or it’s the next whatever. But it’s taking the market. It’s going to be the next brand in the market.” I was very proud of it.

Like I said, everything came to me. I had the vision. I had the dream. I knew where I wanted to take the brand.

Unfortunately, as much as Seven was exploding in the market, I knew that I was not in the right position. I had a problem with my papers for the contracts with the partners. I felt like everything that I wanted, that I said that I needed, was not coming. I had to leave Seven. I decided that I shouldn’t stay. I called a friend of my father and a friend of mine, Yuri Akano, and I told him my problem. He told me that he was going to introduce me to an attorney.

That’s when I went over to Guess. I was designing Soon. That was a brand for Guess that Guess started. I did Soon for maybe six months, and they asked me to design the women’s.

I was doing the women’s for a year-and-a-half or two years. It was a lot of fun. I left Guess and decided to start a new small brand.

At that point I was like, “OK, I want to be able to concentrate on fits and washes.” The brand was called Circa.

When I met [attorney] Gary Freedman, we hit it off right away. It was maybe five minutes that we talked, and I just felt he was very straightforward. Gary told me, “It’s time to go, to do your own thing. You’re going to have to start something new.”

Circa was at Fred Segal, and that’s how I met Adriano [Goldschmied]. Ron Herman wanted to do a new brand, and he asked me if I was interested to meet Adriano because they wanted to do a new brand. At the same time, I was talking to the people at Lucky Brand. Gene Montesano wanted me to do something with him at Lucky. I met Adriano, he saw the product and he said, “OK, let’s do a company together.” So I started A Gold E with Adriano and Ron. It was a bad experience, basically.

I stayed there a few months and decided to leave.

At that time it was really hard, really, really hard for me. I was letting go of a baby that I built. I’m talking about it very shortly, but there was so much chaos. I remember I couldn’t do anything on the weekend. I couldn’t do anything during the week. It was just like this thing was in the back of my mind the whole time.

I knew I had no choice. I knew I had to start something, so I left Seven. Gary told me at that point, “You know, Jerome, we’ve got to go. We’re going to go from A to Z, but we’re not going to go in a straight line. There are going to be a lot of curves, but we’ll get to Z. We’ll get there.” I said, “OK.”

So I went to Lucky Brand. I stayed there for nine years. At that point, I saw a new market in the jeans. Lucky didn’t really want to

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I had to do something. I decided, “OK, let’s do a new brand. Let’s start Citizens.” It was not easy when we started. I had help from one contractor. We set up the factory. We started to do the line.

I was signing checks from my personal account. I felt, “I’m not going to have the money to pay those guys to do my samples and all that.” Gary was like, “Just be patient.”

How did having kids change you as a person?

When you have a baby, it becomes everything. It becomes all your life. That’s something you can’t change, something that becomes more important than anything in this world.

I’m curious: You’ve been able to provide a life for your children that you never had. How does that make you feel?

It’s amazing. Knowing that your kids have security and they’re safe and taken care of, that puts you in the best place in the world.

Gary introduced me to Bruce Stern. Bruce became the investor in Citizens. The deal was amazing, because the deal was what Gary said it would be.

How important is it to be a good father?

To me it’s the most important thing. There is nothing more important than being there for your kids.

So we made a deal. We went to market, and the first season we did really well.

I was worried because in the industry people said no one makes it twice. In this industry if they make one brand and they’re very successful, the second time around they’re not.

Looking back on things, being reflective, what are you most proud of about yourself ?

Through whatever I went through in life, through when I was younger until today, I never gave up. I never gave up trying to make it. I tried to be a good person. I tried to stay who I am all the time and tried to be a good person and rich inside.

We took a chance. We did the line. The line was amazing. The line was very well received. The next step was how well was it going to be received once it was in the stores. I remember we got the phone call the same week from the president of Barney’s, and he said, “Jerome, you did it twice. You did it again. The jeans are selling. The jeans are really well received and selling.”

I’m so proud about what I’ve done. What I’ve accomplished is something to be proud of. Most of all, again, because we’re talking about kids, what makes me the most happy is sometimes when I travel and I’m with the kids or something like that, people will come up to me and say, “Your kids are so nice, so polite. You did a good job.” Something like that, when they give me compliments about my kids, that makes me very, very happy, super proud.

What people or what things had the biggest impact in your life, and why?

If I look at it from the time I was born, my parents had a big impact on my life, not a good one maybe, but a big one.

Citizens of Humanity is celebrating its 10-year anniversary this year. What are you most proud about with this company?

What makes you smile when you look at it?

There’s a lot of effort made by our team of people to make it more than just a jeans company, and try to send a positive message out there. To have people care, you have to care for people.

My partner, Gary, is one of the biggest impacts on my life with everything. It’s not about my business. It’s my personal life, who I am, how I understand who I am. He’s always been there for me.

The other impact is, for sure, my kids.

What do they give you?

They give me all the love. It’s unconditional love.

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the rose bowl f l e a m a r ke t PA S A D E NA , C A

Text by Jane Helpern Photography by Stefan Kocev

Before we start talking about vintage Chanel jewelry, close your eyes and imagine world peace. OK, now envision a utopian shopping destination where you can score exotic Pendleton tapestries, vintage Levi’s (that don’t flatten your behind), a gently worn Isse Miyake pleated coat, rare vinyl records, a deadstock Mickey Mouse watch, healing crystals, a Holga 35 mm camera, and fresh lemonade to wash down that pupusa you had for lunch. Are your eyes still closed? Can you almost smell the gooey queso and worn-in, buttery leather from that motorcycle jacket you haven’t met yet but is definitely coming home to spend the rest of its chic life in your closet?

Well, stylish bargain hunters, you needn’t lust any longer. On the second Sunday of every month, collectors, hoarders and vintage-connoisseurs make the pilgrimage to Pasadena’s Rose Bowl Flea Market to peruse an eclectic (and, at times, eccentric) lineup of more than 2,500 vintage and high-end vendors offering designer wares and curios that you won’t find anywhere else. A purveyor of repurposed rarities for more than four decades, the Rose Bowl is L.A.’s largest and longest running event of its kind. Whether you’re on the prowl for the perfect pair of 1950s cat eye lenses, a 1920s mink stole, or a mid-century credenza, odds are, you’ll find it hidden amongst aisles of buried treasure.

The historical landmark turned bustling outdoor market has become quite the destination for the savvy and sartorial. So before you brave the crowds, there are a few tricks of the trade you will need to arm yourself with. First, if you’re headed there as a designer or buyer, or even if you’re just a selvedge denim enthusiast who always comes era correct, you may want to pay the $20 for VIP admission. This will grant you early access at 5 a.m., when only the die-hards and zombies are out. Which brings me to my next insider tip: Get a good night’s sleep, and stash a granola bar in your tote bag. Though there’s a food court with a cornucopia of global cuisine options, lunch lines can get backed up. And like any true flea market veteran knows, there’s nothing worse than haggling down prices on an empty stomach.

The Rose Bowl Flea Market is rain or shine. Regular admission begins at 9 a.m. for the general public and is $8.00 a person.

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shinola Text by Molly Simms Photography by Brian W. Ferry

IN THE MOTOR CITY, A NOSTALGIC AMERICAN BRAND GETS REIMAGINED

So many of the products we rely on each day are created overseas, shipped to us from massive factories and constructed on assembly lines by the millions. Owning products that are truly “made in the USA” shouldn’t be such a revolutionary concept, but it certainly is. The three-year-old brand Shinola wants to change all that. The Detroit-based company’s meticulously constructed watches and gorgeous, retro-inspired bicycles are assembled here on American soil. By investing in the future of domestic manufacturing, Shinola’s creating investment pieces you’ll hold onto for a lifetime.

be involved, even in a small way, in a city at such a pivotal point.

I wouldn’t live anywhere else.”

Since its inception in the fall of 2011, Shinola has developed into one of the premier U.S.-based bicycle and watch creators. But the brand doesn’t end there; Shinola also creates high-end leather items, like knapsacks, notebooks and even iPhone cases. They’re all sold at retailers across the country, in Detroit, and at the company’s new NYC shop, which opened in Tribeca in September.

And plans are in the works to expand the offerings even further.

“We’re working on denim right now—we’ll launch it in our stores and online in early spring,” says Caudill. “And we’re working on a whole host of things: There’ll be definitely apparel, footwear, home… anything that could fit in the DNA of this brand, we’ll eventually have.” At the moment, Caudill’s got his eye on one of the company’s new watches. “We have chronographs that just came in, and they’re so beautiful. There’s a gray one that’s coming in February that I’m dying for. I’m trying to steal a sample any which way I can.” He’s not the only fan of Shinola’s timepieces: Last March, a run of 2,500 of its limited-edition Runwell watches sold out in one week.

In this age of fast fashion and disposable goods, Shinola is an outlier; the brand’s committed to high-quality products with classic good looks. That’s not surprising, seeing as how it took its name from the massive shoe-polish company that dominated the U.S. market in the early/mid-1900s. (You’ll likely recognize the phrase it inspired: “You don’t know s--t from Shinola.”) According to Shinola’s creative director, Brian Caudill, the identity was a perfect fit. “The brand name was passed from company to company through ownership since the 1960s and had just laid dormant since then,” he says. “So we purchased the name, and basically the brand was started there. It’s hard to find a brand name that is part of the American vernacular like Shinola. It’s a name that has a little bit of humor to it and hearkens back to something familiar, but it still allowed us to create a modern brand that has no preconceived notions surrounding it.”

The future of Shinola is bright, especially given the American culture’s movement away from a disposable lifestyle and toward small-batch, first-rate goods that are meant to last. “There’s a shift in consumerism, where people aren’t buying so frivolously,” says Caudill. “I think it has to do with quality, wanting to know where your product is from, and wanting to have things you’ll own for years. And I think that’s part of what resonates with Shinola. We really did build that factory, and it’s really the factory workers who are behind the brand. It’s very honest, and it’s very authentic.”

While scouting for the right home base for the brand, the Shinola team visited Detroit, a city that’s both celebrated and infamous in most Americans’ minds. Caudill says it felt like the natural place for the brand’s manufacturing to be headquartered.

“Initially, it was really just about manufacturing. As we came here looking for factory space, the city made it so easy for us to do that: pre-screening employees, and helping with real estate and permits.” But more than that ease, it was the city’s vibe that captivated Shinola’s team. “There was just this excitement of what was happening here that made us want to keep coming back,” he says, “and now the entire company’s based here. It was never the plan, it just sort of evolved.”

Shinola certainly takes its partnerships and its craftspeople seriously. On the brand’s website, you can see photos of each individual who contributes to their products, along with his or her name, age, hometown, and years of experience. It’s that personal, hands-on approach on which Shinola prides itself. “We had a policy where we wouldn’t sell to any retailer unless they came to the Detroit factory,” says Caudill. “Because when you see the factory, that’s when you really realize that this is not just about marketing—there’s so much integrity and so much behind this.

And what’s crazy is that Barney’s, Neiman, Saks and Nordstrom all came, went through the factory, and saw what we were doing.

It makes a difference in how you perceive the brand. Because we have an amazing team, and that’s what Shinola is about: It’s about those jobs and about those people here.”

As to Detroit’s reputation as a hollowed-out relic, Caudill says it couldn’t be further from the truth. “I think of it like New York City in the late 1970s: There was a lot of turmoil, and it was a crazy place to live. But the art, and everything else that came out of the city at that time, shaped culture. In Detroit, there’s so much optimism and excitement. It’s not what you perceive it to be, and it’s not what the news is making it out to be. I feel really lucky to

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califor nia

LO S A N G E L E S , C A

Styled by Annie Psaltaris Photography by Rafael Pulido

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preser ving the season

Photography courtesy of Kinfolk Magazine

LAST FALL, CITIZENS OF HUMANITY SPONSORED “PRESERVING THE SEASON,” A SERIES OF WORKSHOPS BY KINFOLK MAGAZINE. THESE WORKSHOPS CELEBRATED THE END-OF-SEASON HARVEST AND TAUGHT ATTENDEES HOW TO PRESERVE THE SUMMER’S BOUNTY SO THAT IT COULD BE ENJOYED FOR ALL OF THE YEAR. THE EVENTS TOOK PLACE IN MORE THAN A DOZEN CITIES AROUND THE GLOBE—ANTWERP, BARCELONA, MADRID, PERTH, SYDNEY AND LEESBURG, VA, AMONG OTHERS—AND HERE ARE A FEW PHOTOS FROM THE WORKSHOPS.

Photography on this spread by Iciar J. Carrasco

Photography on this spread by Melissa Milis

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suzannah sinclair Text by Catherine Wagley Artwork by Suzannah Sinclair

WHAT IS IT THAT MAKES THAT 1960S AND 1970S IDEA OF GLAMOUR STILL SO TRANSFIXING? ONE EAST COAST PAINTER ISN’T QUITE SURE, BUT SHE KNOWS VINTAGE PIN-UP GIRLS’ NAMES BY HEART

Artist Suzannah Sinclair spent the past year painting 12 postersized watercolor portraits, all of beautiful women sourced largely from vintage men’s magazines. The images fill a wall, which is what she had intended. Each woman depicted somewhat resembles a young Jane Fonda or Jane Birkin—the well-heeled hippie look. Mostly, they are blond or brunette, some with glimpses of red in their hair, and six of them are probably nude, though it’s hard to know for sure given that Sinclair only shows their heads and shoulders. None of them are quite smiling.

The one called Bonnie, leaning against a wooden beam with sun hitting her hair, comes closest. Paige, who’s in some sort of garden, is the next closest. “They are all almost just the same, different personalities of the same girl,” the artist reflects. “Not awake but not sleepy, not happy but not sad.”

There is a window between the 1960s and 1970s where models in men’s magazines have a naturalness about them— certainly, they are still idealized, but, maybe because the Woodstock, hippie aesthetic had become so widespread, their hair and makeup isn’t overdone, and they capture a certain fantasy of freedom. “In anything from before then,” Sinclair explains, “there’s a little stiffness. And then it’s the 1980s, and things begin to look weird,” overproduced and glitzy instead of earthy. So all her subjects come from that window. Because she works deliberately and with only as much paint as necessary—“I’m definitely a planner,” she says— her images, whether on wood panel or paper, have a quality that recalls the smooth, easy surface of a magazine image.

She began using old books, fashion magazines and vintage pin-ups as sources while a student at Massachusetts College of Art in the late 1990s and early 2000s. Drawing from already-made imagery dug up in the library was a way to portray people without the pressures of working from a live model. Then a friend’s dad decided to get rid of his lifelong Playboy collection and the friend bequeathed the magazines to Sinclair. “She gave me bags and bags and bags of them,” the artist recalls. “I think at first I treated them like collector’s objects. Then I started tearing out the pages.” Her earlier paintings have a more linear, straightforward quality.

They recall the spare images of Alex Katz, for instance, in which deliberate lines are used to convey every detail. More

recent paintings have softer edges and a bit more nuance.

Sinclair is not entirely sure why this particular aesthetic compels her, except that it may have something to do with nostalgia for a time she just missed. “Generations are always fascinated with the generation right before,” she says. People have an urge to excavate and then maybe romanticize the era that produced them.

She is often asked about the “erotic” in her work, a word she hates, even though she understands its relevance. “I’m not unaware of my source material and how I’m choosing to use it,” she says, although, especially now that she’s moved to rural Maine, away from city life and art world distractions, she’s thought more about those issues that might underlie her choice of these particular figures. “When I go into the studio, it’s like I lay down on my analyst’s couch and wonder, Why am I doing this?”

Around 2008, after the seminal WACK! exhibition on feminist art debuted at the Museum of Modern Art in New York, Sinclair remembers seeing the sprawling 1972 collage “Hothouse or Harem” by artist Martha Rosler. It is a sea of nudes, all from the 1960s and 1970s, cut out from magazines like those Sinclair uses. “I remember standing physically in front of it and saying, ‘I know all of their names.’”

She has become intimately familiar with these models’ careers and identities. Yet they are also types, posing in proscribed ways, one looking a lot like another. This contradiction may in fact be Sinclair’s real subject. In her renderings, like the one of flaxenhaired Carolyn, who looks like she’s straight out of the cast of Sofia Coppola’s Virgin Suicides, the spark of personality is undeniable. So is the familiar style and posed nature of the image.

“A lot of what I do is in a way trying to explore painting as self-expression, self-portraiture,” says Sinclair. She doesn’t at all mean that her portraits are actually of her. Rather, they explore that question of how the specific desires and affinities of a person, like her interest in these women from men’s magazines of eras past, mesh with bigger realities. How do you express individuality while still acknowledging the ways in which you conform to a social type? There’s no easy answer, which is probably why Sinclair’s project continues.

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locals only LO S A N G E L E S , C A

Styling by Brylie Fowler Photography by Rafael Pulido

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jennilee marigomen Text by Julie Haire Photography by Jennilee Marigomen

INSPIRED BY UNEXPECTED MOMENTS THAT ARE OFTEN OVERLOOKED, THIS VANCOUVER-BASED PHOTOGRAPHER CAPTURES DAILY LIFE AS IT UNFOLDS

Jennilee Marigomen’s work suggests that she’s a keen observer of her surroundings.

children, specifically mentioning the work of designer/artist/ polymath Bruno Munari’s illustrated children’s books. As an avid walker throughout her native city, she likes to put on headphones and set out to find what she finds.

There are plenty of stolen moments. A car’s windshield reflecting a dreamy light. A cigarette in a puddle of leaves. Three pretzels stacked on a vendor’s cart.

Unsurprisingly, she is eager to travel and stumble on new tableaus. She camps along the coast of the Pacific Northwest frequently, in surf spots like Tofino, British Columbia and La Push, Washington. She calls them places “with a mysterious fog over their bodies of water,” she says. “The forests are so green and lush, unlike anywhere I have ever been. I run on ‘island time’ when I’m at those places. I look at things more closely, and for a long time.”

The Vancouver-based photographer describes her work as “quiet, aware and unassuming.” She adds, “Intimate and distant at the same time. Ephemeral.”

Her work is deceptively simple. To capture the mundane and the magical at the same time is a talent. “I think that a lot of my photos capture a familiar yet specific truth that is common to everyone,” she says. “Something that you can look back to and feel at that moment in time, everywhere and every day.”

But even when she goes farther afield, like to Mexico for her 2012 “Window Seat” series for Inventory magazine, she brings with her a distinct eye. “I think that my aesthetic and sensibilities stay consistent wherever I go, and my images stay, for the most part, calm and introspective.”

Jennilee remembers the first photo she took that made her happy, that made her think, Maybe I’ve got something here. It was in 2008, on her way home from Stanley Park, when she “came across crepuscular light rays filtering through the branches of a tree and onto the wall of an apartment building. The stunning display of light and shadows wavered in the wind, and slowly faded in and out. I was completely engaged by this momentary image, even though it was just a simple occurrence that happened at the same time every day.”

When she’s the viewer, she is drawn to work that has the “individual viewpoint, spirit and sensibility of the person taking the photos. I love it when I can look at a series of photos by someone and can tell that they have a great sense of humor. You can get a sense of people who are like-minded. I like that honesty.”

If there’s a message to convey in her work, she’s not particularly concerned with it. “The images that resonate with me are the ones that embrace a certain kind of ambiguity and leave room for interpretation,” she says. “The only response I want from the viewer is to feel something visceral.” An example is her photo of a deer stopped frozen in a suburban driveway. Startling? Sweet?

Incongruous? It’s up to you.

She first experimented with photography in high school when she was given a 35mm Nikon camera. Though she joined the photo club and became enthralled with the darkroom, she says she shot here and there but didn’t really know what she was doing. Fashion then became her focus, so it wasn’t until four years ago that she bought a digital camera, and in learning how to use it, she found her way back to 35mm photography.

As a photographer who loves spontaneity and serendipity, she still has to mix instinct with careful planning. When working for a fashion client, she has to meticulously plan the day—the shots, the environment, accommodations for weather and light, and each backdrop. But once the legwork is done, the rest just flows.

In a short period, she’s won the Magenta Foundation’s Flash Forward Emerging Photographer Award and Dazed & Confused magazine/Foam museum’s “What’s Next?” competition. She has released two books, Seconde Nature and Queen of Tsawassen.

She also does commissioned work and is the photo editor of 01 Magazine, an online art, culture and fashion magazine.

She admits she is sensitive visually, especially in tune to things that are askew or amiss. “Whether it was caused by nature or a human, I find it very humorous in a playful way and try to show that in my photos. I see something out of place, I laugh quietly to myself and snap a photo.”

When it comes to training, she is mostly self-taught and considers the work of other photographers the best learning tool. She has thoroughly embraced technology and social media, cataloging her work and inspirations on various blogs. One of those is Shooting Gallery, an online archive of photographers who talk about their work.

Most photographers imbue their work with their own personality, and the way Jennilee tells it, hers matches up quite succinctly. “I took a Myers Briggs Personality Test once and I am an ISFP— introverted, sensing, feeling, perceiving,” she says. “That type has dominant sensing and feeling characteristics, takes in the world through their senses till no end, empathizes with everything, and releases that with a creative outlet.”

“I love photography on the internet,” she says, referring to instagram as a daily practice. “The internet is a big part of how I learned, developed my style, got feedback and connected to others—other photographers and potential clients and collaborators.”

Her plans for the near future are putting together a book on her photos of Mexico, and no doubt happening upon more simple, quiet and powerful moments.

Some of her favorite photographers are Wolfgang Tillmans, Jason Fulford and Jason Nocito. She also draws inspiration from fine art, sculpture and design, and she’s interested in design for

When asked what she’s learned that she wished she knew starting out, she says simply, “My worth.”

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1 ORELIA -wouldn’t it be wild

written by Orelia, Sunny Levine and Stewart levine

2 RASHIDA JONES -flip and rewind

written by Rashida Jones, Sunny Levine and Stewart levine

3 HUGH MASEKELA -one of these days

written by Sunny Levine and Stewart levine

4 JAMES GADSON -riding on a love train

written by James Gadson, Sunny Levine and Stewart levine

5 CHARLOTTE OC -seen the light

written by Charlotte OC and Sunny Levine

6 ASKA MATSUMIYA -rivers in the sea

written by Aska Matsumiya, Sunny Levine and Stewart levine

7 JOHN GOLD -heart strings

written by John Gold and Sunny Levine

8 BRENDA RUSSELL -everybody needs

written by Brenda Russell and Sunny Levine

9 PETE YORN -Kellen Winslow

written by Pete Yorn and Sunny Levine

10 YOUNG DAD -midnight fools

written by Young Dad (Amir Yaghmai) and Sunny Levine

11 NICHOLAS NAUMAN -hey mama

written by Nicholas Nauman and Sunny Levine

12 GRACE KELLY -cold cold water

written by Grace Kelly and Sunny Levine

13 PHLO FINISTER -luck of the draw written by Sunny Levine

14 SUNNY LEVINE -honor

written by Sunny Levine and Amir Yaghmai

ARTWORK BY TIMOTHY JASON REED

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A collection of original music curated and produced by

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www.CITIZENSOFHUMANITY.com

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