Innholdsfortegnelse for Spring Summer 2019 i Vogue Hommes English Version

Twenty–two year old Alton Mason has danced with P. Diddy and Lil’ Kim, but it was on the runway at the last Louis Vuitton collection that he really created a stir, with a graceful series of backflips (something his father taught him to do when he was three). The spirit of Michael Jackson, his idol, was clearly with him. Loved by Gucci, Chanel, Versace, Valentino and Kanye West, who gave him his first leg–up into the world of fashion, the New York based beauty, with his mixed Jamaican and Haitian origins, is this season’s top of the tops. VOGUE HOMMES Your childhood in a few words? ALTON MASON Charlie and the Chocolate Factory VOGUE HOMMES What kind of teenager where you? ALTON MASON A lost one searching for inner peace…

As testified by the Who Dares Wins emblazoned on the Dior winter coat on the cover of this Summer issue, and the dissident yellow of the logo, men’s fashions are undergoing one of their most striking and inspirational revolutions, ever. Never, since the 1970s, have barriers (between the genders, the seasons, between styles and so–called “good” or “bad” taste…) been so completely pulverised as now. Never have taboos and received wisdom taken such a beating — and Vogue Hommes is over the moon about it. In this issue, we have opted to channel boldness: the boldness just to be yourself, and to be ruled only by your own personality, to trust only in your own desires. All those fusty codes, rules, male / female dichotomies are so over. There’s nothing…

Few couturiers come with a rock star aura. He was one such — a phenomenon magnified by his tragic death at 40. Alexander McQueen was the designer, the melancholy dreamer, behind some of the greatest high points in 20th–century fashion. A magician of the human body and peerless king of tailoring, this agent provocateur from London’s East End set his genius for cutting and proportion to serving a poetic, haunted imagination, free to do anything with everything: sex, violence, death, love, religion — it was all there for the taking. But we know so little of the inner man. Aside from his working–class roots, his troubled soul beneath those chubby features, his visceral attachment to his mother (he took his own life the day before her funeral), his love of…

VOGUE HOMMES There was a ten–year gap between the launch of Monsieur by Jean Paul Gaultier and Boy de Chanel. Why have there been so few initiatives between the two? STÉPHANE MARAIS Perhaps French men weren’t ready, whereas make–up for men is already well established in the Korean culture, for example, and in Asia in general. And the word “makeup” has such a feminine connotation. No man wants to admit that he’s wearing make–up, as that would necessarily imply that he’s becoming more feminine. And yet, they all want to feel they look better, more handsome, more seductive, don’t they? VOGUE HOMMES Precisely, with the growing interest in society as a whole, for fashion and gender–free beauty, do you think this could change? STÉPHANE MARAIS Indeed, I meet more and…

In terms of male elegance, style is built on models, a secret devotion children have to well–known figures, usually as sublimated parents. It was in Toulon during the summer of 1970, not far from a rather disreputable area dubbed “Little Chicago”, that I saw Alain Delon in Borsalino.I would love to remember the name of the cinema, I wish I had jotted down my initial reactions, something overwhelming and joyful, the certainty that one day I would look like Roch Siffredi, the gunned down hero with his hair glued back and shiny like car tyres in the rain. “Ding dong” went Claude Bolling’s music. My father had the same hairstyle and the same bags under his eyes. His ideals when he was young were American gangsters, whose pictures he collected…

On the other side of the world, and the other end of the phone line, his near–perfect French flavoured with hints of an exquisite Argentinian accent. As Paris goes to bed on a cold rainy night, Bora Bora wakes up. It’s 9am in Polynesia and the blue sky has been visible for hours through Nicolas Maleville’s lounge window. He is almost apologetic about the time difference, but that’s life, he says that he hates winter and decided a long time ago to live in sunny climes: now, on this paradise island, and before that in Yucatan, Mexico, where his “adventure” first began. The conversation is a little choppy (“The Internet connection isn’t always great on Bora Bora”) and is also interrupted by the tears of Fleur, the aptly named daughter…

I won’t be telling you exactly where David Bailey and his wife, Catherine, live — suffice to say, it’s a converted Neogothic church, typical of the inner London suburbs, one they’ve transformed into a warm, beeswax–polish–scented enclave, full of Bailey’s own surrealistic sculptures and paintings, together with works by those we might term “the usual avant–garde suspects”: Andy Warhol and Bailey’s good friend Damien Hirst among others. I’m sensitive enough to ecclesiastical atmospheres to find their main living area, with its coffered wood–panelling, and stained lancet windows, a little bit spiritually deadening (rather like the protestant Church of England), but the Baileys said their home — where they’ve lived for three years now — was mostly about space for their art, and convenience: it’s a fifteen–minute drive from the mews…

“Let’s get together when there’s time”, he says. “I’ve finally taken a break and just been to a week of fashion shows, so I am less anxious than usual”. When you have known the young man since his first EP was released, in 2017, you know he’s not exaggerating. The apparent serenity scarcely hides the tension, the tension of forward–thinking perfectionists, whilst allowing their talent to mature and develop. Dark eyes, a tall, slender figure and jet–black hair, Tamino–Amir Moharam Fouad was born in Antwerp of a Belgian mother and Egyptian father. He doesn’t only reflect his mixed origins through his physique. In his music, he calls to mind a form of romantic rock influenced by Nick Cave (even though his high–pitched voice is more suggestive of Jeff Buckley or…

The French hit “69 année érotique”, recorded by the now legendary Gainsbourg–Birkin couple, has endured as a casual anthem whispered over the smouldering embers of the turbulent year of revolt. Half a century on, 1969 is making the headlines once again, if only because of the wild rumours surrounding Quentin Tarantino’s new film. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood is set in Los Angeles and looks back at the horrendous murder of actress Sharon Tate by a group of headcases under the orders of psycho–killer Charles Manson. The cast includes the likes of Leonardo DiCaprio, Brad Pitt, Margot Robbie, Al Pacino, and Tim Roth. That year, Jack Kerouac, Brian Jones and Boris Karloff took their final bows, while young newcomers Cate Blanchett, Wes Anderson and Jay–Z first opened their eyes…

What drove them, the Japanese audiences who in 1968 packed into cinemas to admire Black Lizard? Were they there to innocently celebrate the brutal determination of a criminal wreaking terror wherever she went? Were they there to see Miwa the Lizard, that ambiguous creature, or for Shingo Maruyama, the diminutive doe–eyed crooner who, ten years earlier, had charmed them with “Mé qué mé qué”. A Japanese cover of a Gilbert Bécaud song, it had made him a star at the Gin Paris café in Tokyo’s Ginza district. At the height of his fame, a journalist asked him what he thought of women, and Shingo answered truthfully: “I like them, but as friends. I prefer boys, especially boys who play baseball.” At that very instant, Shingo made the decision to embrace…

With every season that comes, designers are putting out more and more jewellery — a sign that it’s high time we men should take the plunge. Precious, semi–precious or costume, some crazy specimens are making it onto the runways. Like this Rajah pendant featuring three lion’s heads in resin and crystals, tamed by a hybrid resin and gilt metal chain. To be worn outside your tee.…

When Patrice Chéreau came to Limoges to film Those Who Love Me Can Take the Train, he met a slip of a young man. As always, the director had some sound advice for the drama student and aspiring actor. Nicolas Maury was only supposed to spend three days on the set; he stayed for over a fortnight. Thus began the gradual coming of age and emergence of one of today’s most original, most astounding actors. One with the calibre of a Jean–Pierre Léaud or a Delphine Seyrig, caught up in his own world that permeates his every gesture and intonation, part dandy, part diva. VOGUE HOMMES There is a Nicolas Maury type, you created it. What type of actor are you? NICOLAS MAURY As an actor, I’m not in the…

Frank Ocean has suddenly become the star of the 21st century. His 2012 first album, Channel Orange, a triumph of emotion, lyricism, grace and sensitivity, had a dizzying impact on millions of ecstatic fans. Rather than self–importantly carving out a place in the landscape of a modern music with jet–setting overtones, the New Orleans singer immediately went underground. No one knew where he went, no one could say where he was. His rare appearances were exceptional and steeped in mystery. By nature and by choice, he aligned himself with pop royalty — think his idol and role model, Prince. Or Michael Jackson, Kate Bush, or Greta Garbo, those reclusive celebrities whose escape always suggested a mix of discomfort and strategy. Vague rumours and silence shroud his absence. One would like…

You examine photos of Lincoln Kirstein closely, in hopes of learning a little more about this celebrity you’ve never heard of, a man who shunned the limelight yet who was a vastly wealthy patron of the arts and such a devotee of classical ballet that he managed to persuade choreographer George Balanchine to settle in the United States and together found the School of American Ballet [SAB — still going strong today]. In 1948, he set up a new classical ballet company destined to become an institution: the New York City Ballet. When you probe portraits of him, the amazing thing is that this man — showered with awards, feared, described as a tycoon and a titan blessed with all the powers devolved on him by wealth, a fine education,…

Who wouldn’t jump at the chance for a heart–to–heart with Kim Jones, one of the hippest designers and newly appointed creative director for Dior menswear? We’re scheduled to meet three days after his sumptuous Fall /Winter 2019 show, one Monday morning at his apartment just off Place des Victoires in Paris. Then at the Plaza hotel, where Jones has a pre–9am meeting. Then later in the afternoon… and ultimately not at all, as he is ill. We finally meet a week later, in the Dior offices on Rue de Marignan. The 39–year–old British designer, less than a year into his tenure at Collection Homme Dior (ex–Dior Homme) after a successful run at Louis Vuitton, has been up since 5am, just back from Morocco, where he managed to snatch a few…