#and I also wanted to make a profile victorian portrait

[nipuni]

Self portrait I made for my icon 😊

[stylesnews]

THE MEN’S BATHING POND in London’s Hampstead Heath at daybreak on a gloomy September morning seemed such an unlikely locale for my first meeting with Harry Styles, music’s legendarily charm-heavy style czar, that I wondered perhaps if something had been lost in translation.

But then there is Styles, cheerily gung ho, hidden behind a festive yellow bandana mask and a sweatshirt of his own design, surprisingly printed with three portraits of his intellectual pinup, the author Alain de Botton. “I love his writing,” says Styles. “I just think he’s brilliant. I saw him give a talk about the keys to happiness, and how one of the keys is living among friends, and how real friendship stems from being vulnerable with someone.”

In turn, de Botton’s 2016 novel The Course of Love taught Styles that “when it comes to relationships, you just expect yourself to be good at it…[but] being in a real relationship with someone is a skill,” one that Styles himself has often had to hone in the unforgiving klieg light of public attention, and in the company of such high-profile paramours as Taylor Swift and—well, Styles is too much of a gentleman to name names.

That sweatshirt and the Columbia Records tracksuit bottoms are removed in the quaint wooden open-air changing room, with its Swallows and Amazons vibe. A handful of intrepid fellow patrons in various states of undress are blissfully unaware of the 26-year-old supernova in their midst, although I must admit I’m finding it rather difficult to take my eyes off him, try as I might. Styles has been on a six-day juice cleanse in readiness for Vogue’s photographer Tyler Mitchell. He practices Pilates (“I’ve got very tight hamstrings—trying to get those open”) and meditates twice a day. “It has changed my life,” he avers, “but it’s so subtle. It’s helped me just be more present. I feel like I’m able to enjoy the things that are happening right in front of me, even if it’s food or it’s coffee or it’s being with a friend—or a swim in a really cold pond!” Styles also feels that his meditation practices have helped him through the tumult of 2020: “Meditation just brings a stillness that has been really beneficial, I think, for my mental health.”

Styles has been a pescatarian for three years, inspired by the vegan food that several members of his current band prepared on tour. “My body definitely feels better for it,” he says. His shapely torso is prettily inscribed with the tattoos of a Victorian sailor—a rose, a galleon, a mermaid, an anchor, and a palm tree among them, and, straddling his clavicle, the dates 1967 and 1957 (the respective birth years of his mother and father). Frankly, I rather wish I’d packed a beach muumuu.

We take the piratical gangplank that juts into the water and dive in. Let me tell you, this is not the Aegean. The glacial water is a cloudy phlegm green beneath the surface, and clammy reeds slap one’s ankles. Styles, who admits he will try any fad, has recently had a couple of cryotherapy sessions and is evidently less susceptible to the cold. By the time we have swum a full circuit, however, body temperatures have adjusted, and the ice, you might say, has been broken. Duly invigorated, we are ready to face the day. Styles has thoughtfully brought a canister of coffee and some bottles of water in his backpack, and we sit at either end of a park bench for a socially distanced chat.

It seems that he has had a productive year. At the onset of lockdown, Styles found himself in his second home, in the canyons of Los Angeles. After a few days on his own, however, he moved in with a pod of three friends (and subsequently with two band members, Mitch Rowland and Sarah Jones). They “would put names in a hat and plan the week out,” Styles explains. “If you were Monday, you would choose the movie, dinner, and the activity for that day. I like to make soups, and there was a big array of movies; we went all over the board,” from Goodfellas to Clueless. The experience, says Styles, “has been a really good lesson in what makes me happy now. It’s such a good example of living in the moment. I honestly just like being around my friends,” he adds. “That’s been my biggest takeaway. Just being on my own the whole time, I would have been miserable.”

Styles is big on friendship groups and considers his former and legendarily hysteria-inducing boy band, One Direction, to have been one of them. “I think the typical thing is to come out of a band like that and almost feel like you have to apologize for being in it,” says Styles. “But I loved my time in it. It was all new to me, and I was trying to learn as much as I could. I wanted to soak it in…. I think that’s probably why I like traveling now—soaking stuff up.” In a post-COVID future, he is contemplating a temporary move to Tokyo, explaining that “there’s a respect and a stillness, a quietness that I really loved every time I’ve been there.”

In 1D, Styles was making music whenever he could. “After a show you’d go in a hotel room and put down some vocals,” he recalls. As a result, his first solo album, 2017’s Harry Styles, “was when I really fell in love with being in the studio,” he says. “I loved it as much as touring.” Today he favors isolating with his core group of collaborators, “our little bubble”—Rowland, Kid Harpoon (né Tom Hull), and Tyler Johnson. “A safe space,” as he describes it.

KEEP READING HERE!

[kingstylesdaily]

Playtime With Harry Styles

via vogue.com

THE MEN’S BATHING POND in London’s Hampstead Heath at daybreak on a gloomy September morning seemed such an unlikely locale for my first meeting with Harry Styles, music’s legendarily charm-heavy style czar, that I wondered perhaps if something had been lost in translation.

But then there is Styles, cheerily gung ho, hidden behind a festive yellow bandana mask and a sweatshirt of his own design, surprisingly printed with three portraits of his intellectual pinup, the author Alain de Botton. “I love his writing,” says Styles. “I just think he’s brilliant. I saw him give a talk about the keys to happiness, and how one of the keys is living among friends, and how real friendship stems from being vulnerable with someone.”

In turn, de Botton’s 2016 novel The Course of Love taught Styles that “when it comes to relationships, you just expect yourself to be good at it…[but] being in a real relationship with someone is a skill,” one that Styles himself has often had to hone in the unforgiving klieg light of public attention, and in the company of such high-profile paramours as Taylor Swift and—well, Styles is too much of a gentleman to name names.

That sweatshirt and the Columbia Records tracksuit bottoms are removed in the quaint wooden open-air changing room, with its Swallows and Amazons vibe. A handful of intrepid fellow patrons in various states of undress are blissfully unaware of the 26-year-old supernova in their midst, although I must admit I’m finding it rather difficult to take my eyes off him, try as I might. Styles has been on a six-day juice cleanse in readiness for Vogue’s photographer Tyler Mitchell. He practices Pilates (“I’ve got very tight hamstrings—trying to get those open”) and meditates twice a day. “It has changed my life,” he avers, “but it’s so subtle. It’s helped me just be more present. I feel like I’m able to enjoy the things that are happening right in front of me, even if it’s food or it’s coffee or it’s being with a friend—or a swim in a really cold pond!” Styles also feels that his meditation practices have helped him through the tumult of 2020: “Meditation just brings a stillness that has been really beneficial, I think, for my mental health.”

Styles has been a pescatarian for three years, inspired by the vegan food that several members of his current band prepared on tour. “My body definitely feels better for it,” he says. His shapely torso is prettily inscribed with the tattoos of a Victorian sailor—a rose, a galleon, a mermaid, an anchor, and a palm tree among them, and, straddling his clavicle, the dates 1967 and 1957 (the respective birth years of his mother and father). Frankly, I rather wish I’d packed a beach muumuu.

We take the piratical gangplank that juts into the water and dive in. Let me tell you, this is not the Aegean. The glacial water is a cloudy phlegm green beneath the surface, and clammy reeds slap one’s ankles. Styles, who admits he will try any fad, has recently had a couple of cryotherapy sessions and is evidently less susceptible to the cold. By the time we have swum a full circuit, however, body temperatures have adjusted, and the ice, you might say, has been broken. Duly invigorated, we are ready to face the day. Styles has thoughtfully brought a canister of coffee and some bottles of water in his backpack, and we sit at either end of a park bench for a socially distanced chat.

It seems that he has had a productive year. At the onset of lockdown, Styles found himself in his second home, in the canyons of Los Angeles. After a few days on his own, however, he moved in with a pod of three friends (and subsequently with two band members, Mitch Rowland and Sarah Jones). They “would put names in a hat and plan the week out,” Styles explains. “If you were Monday, you would choose the movie, dinner, and the activity for that day. I like to make soups, and there was a big array of movies; we went all over the board,” from Goodfellas to Clueless. The experience, says Styles, “has been a really good lesson in what makes me happy now. It’s such a good example of living in the moment. I honestly just like being around my friends,” he adds. “That’s been my biggest takeaway. Just being on my own the whole time, I would have been miserable.”

Styles is big on friendship groups and considers his former and legendarily hysteria-inducing boy band, One Direction, to have been one of them. “I think the typical thing is to come out of a band like that and almost feel like you have to apologize for being in it,” says Styles. “But I loved my time in it. It was all new to me, and I was trying to learn as much as I could. I wanted to soak it in…. I think that’s probably why I like traveling now—soaking stuff up.” In a post-COVID future, he is contemplating a temporary move to Tokyo, explaining that “there’s a respect and a stillness, a quietness that I really loved every time I’ve been there.”

In 1D, Styles was making music whenever he could. “After a show you’d go in a hotel room and put down some vocals,” he recalls. As a result, his first solo album, 2017’s Harry Styles, “was when I really fell in love with being in the studio,” he says. “I loved it as much as touring.” Today he favors isolating with his core group of collaborators, “our little bubble”—Rowland, Kid Harpoon (né Tom Hull), and Tyler Johnson. “A safe space,” as he describes it.

In the music he has been working on in 2020, Styles wants to capture the experimental spirit that informed his second album, last year’s Fine Line. With his debut album, “I was very much finding out what my sound was as a solo artist,” he says. “I can see all the places where it almost felt like I was bowling with the bumpers up. I think with the second album I let go of the fear of getting it wrong and…it was really joyous and really free. I think with music it’s so important to evolve—and that extends to clothes and videos and all that stuff. That’s why you look back at David Bowie with Ziggy Stardust or the Beatles and their different eras—that fearlessness is super inspiring.”

The seismic changes of 2020—including the Black Lives Matter uprising around racial justice—has also provided Styles with an opportunity for personal growth. “I think it’s a time for opening up and learning and listening,” he says. “I’ve been trying to read and educate myself so that in 20 years I’m still doing the right things and taking the right steps. I believe in karma, and I think it’s just a time right now where we could use a little more kindness and empathy and patience with people, be a little more prepared to listen and grow.”

Meanwhile, Styles’s euphoric single “Watermelon Sugar” became something of an escapist anthem for this dystopian summer of 2020. The video, featuring Styles (dressed in ’70s-­flavored Gucci and Bode) cavorting with a pack of beach-babe girls and boys, was shot in January, before lockdown rules came into play. By the time it was ready to be released in May, a poignant epigraph had been added: “This video is dedicated to touching.”

Styles is looking forward to touring again, when “it’s safe for everyone,” because, as he notes, “being up against people is part of the whole thing. You can’t really re-create it in any way.” But it hasn’t always been so. Early in his career, Styles was so stricken with stage fright that he regularly threw up preperformance. “I just always thought I was going to mess up or something,” he remembers. “But I’ve felt really lucky to have a group of incredibly generous fans. They’re generous emotionally—and when they come to the show, they give so much that it creates this atmosphere that I’ve always found so loving and accepting.”

THIS SUMMER, when it was safe enough to travel, Styles returned to his London home, which is where he suggests we head now, setting off in his modish Primrose Yellow ’73 Jaguar that smells of gasoline and leatherette. “Me and my dad have always bonded over cars,” Styles explains. “I never thought I’d be someone who just went out for a leisurely drive, purely for enjoyment.” On sleepless jet-lagged nights he’ll drive through London’s quiet streets, seeing neighborhoods in a new way. “I find it quite relaxing,” he says.

Over the summer Styles took a road trip with his artist friend Tomo Campbell through France and Italy, setting off at four in the morning and spending the night in Geneva, where they jumped in the lake “to wake ourselves up.” (I see a pattern emerging.) At the end of the trip Styles drove home alone, accompanied by an upbeat playlist that included “Aretha Franklin, Parliament, and a lot of Stevie Wonder. It was really fun for me,” he says. “I don’t travel like that a lot. I’m usually in such a rush, but there was a stillness to it. I love the feeling of nobody knowing where I am, that kind of escape...and freedom.”

GROWING UP in a village in the North of England, Styles thought of London as a world apart: “It truly felt like a different country.” At a wide-eyed 16, he came down to the teeming metropolis after his mother entered him on the U.K. talent-search show The X Factor. “I went to the audition to find out if I could sing,” Styles recalls, “or if my mum was just being nice to me.” Styles was eliminated but subsequently brought back with other contestants—Niall Horan, Liam Payne, Louis Tomlinson, and Zayn Malik—to form a boy band that was named (on Styles’s suggestion) One Direction. The wily X Factor creator and judge, Simon Cowell, soon signed them to his label Syco Records, and the rest is history: 1D’s first four albums, supported by four world tours from 2011 to 2015, debuted at number one on the U.S. Billboard charts, and the band has sold 70 million records to date. At 18, Styles bought the London house he now calls home. “I was going to do two weeks’ work to it,” he remembers, “but when I came back there was no second floor,” so he moved in with adult friends who lived nearby till the renovation was complete. “Eighteen months,” he deadpans. “I’ve always seen that period as pretty pivotal for me, as there’s that moment at the party where it’s getting late, and half of the people would go upstairs to do drugs, and the other people go home. I was like, ‘I don’t really know this friend’s wife, so I’m not going to get all messy and then go home.’ I had to behave a bit, at a time where everything else about my life felt I didn’t have to behave really. I’ve been lucky to always feel I have this family unit somewhere.”

When Styles’s London renovation was finally done, “I went in for the first time and I cried,” he recalls. “Because I just felt like I had somewhere. L.A. feels like holiday, but this feels like home.”

Behind its pink door, Styles’s house has all the trappings of rock stardom—there’s a man cave filled with guitars, a Sex Pistols Never Mind the Bollocks poster (a moving-in gift from his decorator), a Stevie Nicks album cover. Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams” was one of the first songs he knew the words to—“My parents were big fans”—and he and Nicks have formed something of a mutual-admiration society. At the beginning of lockdown, Nicks tweeted to her fans that she was taking inspiration from Fine Line: “Way to go, H,” she wrote. “It is your Rumours.” “She’s always there for you,” said Styles when he inducted Nicks into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2019. “She knows what you need—advice, a little wisdom, a blouse, a shawl; she’s got you covered.”

Styles makes us some tea in the light-filled kitchen and then wanders into the convivial living room, where he strikes an insouciant pose on the chesterfield sofa, upholstered in a turquoise velvet that perhaps not entirely coincidentally sets off his eyes. Styles admits that his lockdown lewk was “sweatpants, constantly,” and he is relishing the opportunity to dress up again. He doesn’t have to wait long: The following day, under the eaves of a Victorian mansion in Notting Hill, I arrive in the middle of fittings for Vogue’s shoot and discover Styles in his Y-fronts, patiently waiting to try on looks for fashion editor Camilla Nickerson and photographer Tyler Mitchell. Styles’s personal stylist, Harry Lambert, wearing a pearl necklace and his nails colored in various shades of green varnish, à la Sally Bowles, is providing helpful backup (Britain’s Rule of Six hasn’t yet been imposed).

Styles, who has thoughtfully brought me a copy of de Botton’s 2006 book The Architecture of Happiness, is instinctively and almost quaintly polite, in an old-fashioned, holding-open-doors and not-mentioning-lovers-by-name sort of way. He is astounded to discover that the Atlanta-born Mitchell has yet to experience a traditional British Sunday roast dinner. Assuring him that “it’s basically like Thanksgiving every Sunday,” Styles gives Mitchell the details of his favorite London restaurants in which to enjoy one. “It’s a good thing to be nice,” Mitchell tells me after a morning in Styles’s company.

MITCHELL has Lionel Wendt’s languorously homoerotic 1930s portraits of young Sri Lankan men on his mood board. Nickerson is thinking of Irving Penn’s legendary fall 1950 Paris haute couture collections sitting, where he photographed midcentury supermodels, including his wife, Lisa Fonssagrives, in high-style Dior and Balenciaga creations. Styles is up for all of it, and so, it would seem, is the menswear landscape of 2020: Jonathan Anderson has produced a trapeze coat anchored with a chunky gold martingale; John Galliano at Maison Margiela has fashioned a khaki trench with a portrait neckline in layers of colored tulle; and Harris Reed—a Saint Martins fashion student sleuthed by Lambert who ended up making some looks for Styles’s last tour—has spent a week making a broad-shouldered Smoking jacket with high-waisted, wide-leg pants that have become a Styles signature since he posed for Tim Walker for the cover of Fine Line wearing a Gucci pair—a silhouette that was repeated in the tour wardrobe. (“I liked the idea of having that uniform,” says Styles.) Reed’s version is worn with a hoopskirt draped in festoons of hot-pink satin that somehow suggests Deborah Kerr asking Yul Brynner’s King of Siam, “Shall we dance?”

Styles introduces me to the writer and eyewear designer Gemma Styles, “my sister from the same womb,” he says. She is also here for the fitting: The siblings plan to surprise their mother with the double portrait on these pages.

I ask her whether her brother had always been interested in clothes.

“My mum loved to dress us up,” she remembers. “I always hated it, and Harry was always quite into it. She did some really elaborate papier-mâché outfits: She made a giant mug and then painted an atlas on it, and that was Harry being ‘The World Cup.’ Harry also had a little dalmatian-dog outfit,” she adds, “a hand-me-down from our closest family friends. He would just spend an inordinate amount of time wearing that outfit. But then Mum dressed me up as Cruella de Vil. She was always looking for any opportunity!”

“As a kid I definitely liked fancy dress,” Styles says. There were school plays, the first of which cast him as Barney, a church mouse. “I was really young, and I wore tights for that,” he recalls. “I remember it was crazy to me that I was wearing a pair of tights. And that was maybe where it all kicked off!”

Acting has also remained a fundamental form of expression for Styles. His sister recalls that even on the eve of his life-changing X Factor audition, Styles could sing in public only in an assumed voice. “He used to do quite a good sort of Elvis warble,” she remembers. During the rehearsals in the family home, “he would sing in the bathroom because if it was him singing as himself, he just couldn’t have anyone looking at him! I love his voice now,” she adds. “I’m so glad that he makes music that I actually enjoy listening to.”

Styles’s role-playing continued soon after 1D went on permanent hiatus in 2016, and he was cast in Christopher Nolan’s Dunkirk, beating out dozens of professional actors for the role. “The good part was my character was a young soldier who didn’t really know what he was doing,” says Styles modestly. “The scale of the movie was so big that I was a tiny piece of the puzzle. It was definitely humbling. I just loved being outside of my comfort zone.”

His performance caught the eye of Olivia Wilde, who remembers that it “blew me away—the openness and commitment.” In turn, Styles loved Wilde’s directorial debut, Booksmart, and is “very honored” that she cast him in a leading role for her second feature, a thriller titled Don’t Worry Darling, which went into production this fall. Styles will play the husband to Florence Pugh in what Styles describes as “a 1950s utopia in the California desert.”

Wilde’s movie is costumed by Academy Award nominee Arianne Phillips. “She and I did a little victory dance when we heard that we officially had Harry in the film,” notes Wilde, “because we knew that he has a real appreciation for fashion and style. And this movie is incredibly stylistic. It’s very heightened and opulent, and I’m really grateful that he is so enthusiastic about that element of the process—some actors just don’t care.”

“I like playing dress-up in general,” Styles concurs, in a masterpiece of understatement: This is the man, after all, who cohosted the Met’s 2019 “Notes on Camp” gala attired in a nipple-freeing black organza blouse with a lace jabot, and pants so high-waisted that they cupped his pectorals. The ensemble, accessorized with the pearl-drop earring of a dandified Elizabethan courtier, was created for Styles by Gucci’s Alessandro Michele, whom he befriended in 2014. Styles, who has subsequently personified the brand as the face of the Gucci fragrance, finds Michele “fearless with his work and his imagination. It’s really inspiring to be around someone who works like that.”

The two first met in London over a cappuccino. “It was just a kind of PR appointment,” says Michele, “but something magical happened, and Harry is now a friend. He has the aura of an English rock-and-roll star—like a young Greek god with the attitude of James Dean and a little bit of Mick Jagger—but no one is sweeter. He is the image of a new era, of the way that a man can look.”

Styles credits his style trans­formation—from Jack Wills tracksuit-clad boy-band heartthrob to nonpareil fashionisto—to his meeting the droll young stylist Harry Lambert seven years ago. They hit it off at once and have conspired ever since, enjoying a playfully campy rapport and calling each other Sue and Susan as they parse the niceties of the scarlet lace Gucci man-bra that Michele has made for Vogue’s shoot, for instance, or a pair of Bode pants hand-painted with biographical images (Styles sent Emily Adams Bode images of his family, and a photograph he had found of David Hockney and Joni Mitchell. “The idea of those two being friends, to me, was really beautiful,” Styles explains).

“He just has fun with clothing, and that’s kind of where I’ve got it from,” says Styles of Lambert. “He doesn’t take it too seriously, which means I don’t take it too seriously.” The process has been evolutionary. At his first meeting with Lambert, the stylist proposed “a pair of flares, and I was like, ‘Flares? That’s fucking crazy,’  ” Styles remembers. Now he declares that “you can never be overdressed. There’s no such thing. The people that I looked up to in music—Prince and David Bowie and Elvis and Freddie Mercury and Elton John—they’re such showmen. As a kid it was completely mind-blowing. Now I’ll put on something that feels really flamboyant, and I don’t feel crazy wearing it. I think if you get something that you feel amazing in, it’s like a superhero outfit. Clothes are there to have fun with and experiment with and play with. What’s really exciting is that all of these lines are just kind of crumbling away. When you take away ‘There’s clothes for men and there’s clothes for women,’ once you remove any barriers, obviously you open up the arena in which you can play. I’ll go in shops sometimes, and I just find myself looking at the women’s clothes thinking they’re amazing. It’s like anything—anytime you’re putting barriers up in your own life, you’re just limiting yourself. There’s so much joy to be had in playing with clothes. I’ve never really thought too much about what it means—it just becomes this extended part of creating something.”

“He’s up for it,” confirms Lambert, who earlier this year, for instance, found a JW Anderson cardigan with the look of a Rubik’s Cube (“on sale at matches.com!”). Styles wore it, accessorized with his own pearl necklace, for a Today rehearsal in February and it went viral: His fans were soon knitting their own versions and posting the results on TikTok. Jonathan Anderson declared himself “so impressed and incredibly humbled by this trend” that he nimbly made the pattern available (complete with a YouTube tutorial) so that Styles’s fans could copy it for free. Meanwhile, London’s storied Victoria & Albert Museum has requested Styles’s original: an emblematic document of how people got creative during the COVID era. “It’s going to be in their permanent collection,” says Lambert exultantly. “Is that not sick? Is that not the most epic thing?”

“To me, he’s very modern,” says Wilde of Styles, “and I hope that this brand of confidence as a male that Harry has—truly devoid of any traces of toxic masculinity—is indicative of his generation and therefore the future of the world. I think he is in many ways championing that, spearheading that. It’s pretty powerful and kind of extraordinary to see someone in his position redefining what it can mean to be a man with confidence.”

“He’s really in touch with his feminine side because it’s something natural,” notes Michele. “And he’s a big inspiration to a younger generation—about how you can be in a totally free playground when you feel comfortable. I think that he’s a revolutionary.”

STYLES’S confidence is on full display the day after the fitting, which finds us all on the beautiful Sussex dales. Over the summit of the hill, with its trees blown horizontal by the fierce winds, lies the English Channel. Even though it’s a two-hour drive from London, the fresh-faced Styles, who went to bed at 9 p.m., has arrived on set early: He is famously early for everything. The team is installed in a traditional flint-stone barn. The giant doors have been replaced by glass and frame a bucolic view of distant grazing sheep. “Look at that field!” says Styles. “How lucky are we? This is our office! Smell the roses!” Lambert starts to sing “Kumbaya, my Lord.”

Hairdresser Malcolm Edwards is setting Styles’s hair in a Victory roll with silver clips, and until it is combed out he resembles Kathryn Grayson with stubble. His fingers are freighted with rings, and “he has a new army of mini purses,” says Lambert, gesturing to an accessory table heaving with examples including a mini sky-blue Gucci Diana bag discreetly monogrammed HS. Michele has also made Styles a dress for the shoot that Tissot might have liked to paint—acres of ice-blue ruffles, black Valenciennes lace, and suivez-moi, jeune homme ribbons. Erelong, Styles is gamely racing up a hill in it, dodging sheep scat, thistles, and shards of chalk, and striking a pose for Mitchell that manages to make ruffles a compelling new masculine proposition, just as Mr. Fish’s frothy white cotton dress—equal parts Romantic poet and Greek presidential guard—did for Mick Jagger when he wore it for The Rolling Stones’ free performance in Hyde Park in 1969, or as the suburban-mom floral housedress did for Kurt Cobain as he defined the iconoclastic grunge aesthetic. Styles is mischievously singing ABBA’s “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight)” to himself when Mitchell calls him outside to jump up and down on a trampoline in a Comme des Garçons buttoned wool kilt. “How did it look?” asks his sister when he comes in from the cold. “Divine,” says her brother in playful Lambert-speak.

As the wide sky is washed in pink, orange, and gray, like a Turner sunset, and Mitchell calls it a successful day, Styles is playing “Cherry” from Fine Line on his Fender acoustic on the hilltop. “He does his own stunts,” says his sister, laughing. The impromptu set is greeted with applause. “Thank you, Antwerp!” says Styles playfully, bowing to the crowd. “Thank you, fashion!”

[that-scouse-wizard]

Hphm profile: Amelia Booth

Just to clarify some things:

-This exists in David’s (Jacob’s brother) AU, so to reiterate: Merula isn’t the mole, the girl version of Rowan is David’s best friend and only Orion from the Quidditch characters is in Hufflepuff.

-Some more things:

-Amelia is two years behind David, starting her first year when David is in third year.

-Her ‘Rowan’ is the boy version and is called Alder in this AU.

Lastly, I hope you guys enjoy!

-----------

General Information

Full name: Amelia Margaret Booth

Nicknames: Amy (usually by friends and family).

Gender: Female

Age: 11-18 (1986 - 1993) 

DOB: 22/01/1975

Species: Human

Blood status: Muggleborn

Sexuality: Bisexual

Alignment: Neutral Good

Ethnicity: White-British

Nationality: English

Residence: Lancaster (During her Hogwarts years and a brief time afterwards).

Edinburgh (After opening an apothecary there as a side business).

Myers Briggs Personality type: ISFJ, the Defender

Character Summary: Quiet and hardworking,  muggleborn Amelia Booth initially finds the wizarding world intimidating. With the right guidance though, she can become a great source of knowledge should one require advice on Potions, Herbology or Care of Magical Creatures. A love of gymnastics and cycling made her the perfect candidate for a keeper on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team.

Personality

Calm: It usually takes a lot to get a rise out of Amelia, there was however one instance when she snapped at Jacob in year 6.

Competitive: David’s competitive streak rubbed off on her once she became a part of the Quidditch scene. Though like him, tries to keep it to a healthy degree.

Hard-working: Despite being intimidated by the wizarding world at first, Amelia persevered in her studies at Hogwarts. Allowing her to become a well-respected member of the Hippogriff club for her expertise in Potions, COMC and Herbology.

Insecure: While she does appear to not care, she’s always worried if people are staring at her scars. She even briefly developed an insecurity around people in her year wanting to get close to her just to hang around with David (who keep in mind was considered a ‘Hero of Hogwarts’ as well as a relatively popular Quidditch player). Other ways her insecurities can manifest are as jealousy and pettiness.

Loyal: Amelia’s family and friends mean the world to her, she’d do anything for them.

Quiet: Amelia tends to keep her head down, preferring to study in silent contemplation.

Witty: Though she normally doesn’t joke about, there are certain occasions where Amelia has an incredible comeback

Appearance

Face claim: Maisie Williams

Voice Claim: Emma Atkins

Game appearance: 

Physique: Athletic and lean, trained to be very flexible from a mix of her gymnastics and cycling.

Hair colour: Dark brown

Hair style: 

Wears her mid-length and neat (1st-3rd year).

Grows her hair out a bit and keeps it in this wild mane look (4th-post graduation)

Wears it in a pony tail during gymnastics practice, potioneering or when tending to magical creatures.

Usually wears it like this for formal events

Eye colour: Grey (Blue in-game)

Height: 5′2′’

Weight: 75kg

Scarring: A diagonal scar on her left cheek, running from just next to her nose to the middle of the cheek, A vertical scar on the right side of her forehead. One on her right forearm. Finally, one that runs from her left shoulder to her chest.

Body modifications: Both ears have a triple lobe piercing, three simple gold bands in each lobe from third year onwards. Gets three small tattoos on the inside of her left forearm, the leaves of a chestnut (her wand wood), an alder (Alder Khanna) and a willow (David, her step-brother).

Inventory: Her wand, feathers from her hippogriff (Valkyrie), a fragment of crystal from her fire crab (Garnet), and a copy of the books Fantastic Beats and Where to Find them, and Advanced Potion Making.

Fashion: Prior to attending Hogwarts, Amelia used to wear smock dresses. Much like David, has a love of punk fashion when in the muggle world. Although thanks to Andre, grew an appreciation for wizarding world fashion and even Victorian fashion.

Background/History:

Pre-Hogwarts:

-Amelia had a fairly happy life, being quite well-off financially thanks to her mother’s accounting work and her father’s job as a plumber. 

-Though she loved her older siblings, Alex and Sarah, the age gap of six and four years respectively meant some obvious differences in the closeness between the Booth siblings.

-Sadly, when Amelia was just five years old, she was involved in a car accident. A driver going too fast rear-ended her father’s car. While her father was killed on impact on account of not having his seatbelt on at the time, Amelia had hers on and was knocked unconscious. This event resulted in her scarring and subsequently, her ability to see Thestrals.

-The accident took a heavy toll on all of the Booths, Lyra though was determined to stay strong for her kids. Getting them involved in various activities in the hopes that it would get their confidence back, for Alex it was muay thai, for Sarah it was shooting and for Amelia, gymnastics.

-While Amelia regained some confidence in herself despite the scars, the accident caused her to develop motorphobia, she can’t stand the thought of being trapped in an automobile. However, she can still ride bicycles and broomsticks, at least then she has control over the vehicle in question.

Year 1 (1986)

-Amelia first comes to Hogwarts when the school is in the grip of the curse of the Vault of Fear.

-This also where she meets Alder Khanna, Rowan’s younger brother, who would become her best friend.

-When she first encounters a boggart, it turns into a Vauxhall Viva (the car her dad used to drive), blaring its headlights and revving its engine. Understandably, this troubles her.

-That event, combined with her insecurity over people wanting to befriend her just to get closer to David causes an argument between the two. This is where she gets closer to Rowan, who even though she’s the older sibling in her relationship, feels somewhat overshadowed by Alder. 

-She reconciles with David thanks to the advice from Rowan and even an assurance by Alder he’s not her friend because she’s close to David.

Year 2 (1987)

-Open Quidditch positions are announced, for Hufflepuff’s team, it was keeper. Having expressed an interest in it, she sought out Orion.

-Orion asked her to balance on her broom, expecting her to fail a few times before she got it. However, thanks to her gymnastics training, she stood up on it first time no problem, something that visibly surprised Orion. It almost immediately made him consider her for a position on the team.

-She got the position and was noted for incorporating her gymnastics into her Quidditch manoeuvres, something that greatly helped in defending the goals from the opposing team.

-Because of this, she becomes quite popular in the school Quidditch scene.

-She comforts David when his friends Chauncy and Philip are killed by a Red Cap while under the sleepwalking curse. Hagrid introduces them both to the Thestral herd on the Creature Reserve.

-Admits to David that she doesn’t trust Rakepick.

Year 3 (1988)

-She selects COMC, Divination and Study of Ancient Runes as Electives. Though Divination isn’t what she hoped, she takes to COMC like a fish to water. While she had experience with certain creatures through her first two years on the reserve, she mentioned wanting to take COMC as soon as was feasibly possible.

-Is there to witness David emerge from the Portrait Vault, shocked to learn of Rakepick’s betrayal.

Year 4 (1989)

-Jacob comes back as the DADA teacher, Amelia confronts him about the pain he caused David last year. This culminates in an argument in which Amelia slaps him and screams, “He’s my brother, you selfish bastard!” Before she storms out the room.

-The biggest event for Amelia is when R comes after her, to truly make sure the condition that David must see a loved one die so that he may enter the Sunken Vault.

-However, Alder intercepts the attack meant for her, resulting in his death. The R assassin, Nisus Snyde leaves, believing the distraught reaction from David is enough to determine that Alder was suitable for the condition to be met.

-She’s distraught as well, blaming herself for being too weak to not help David or protect Alder, a fact that isn’t helped by Rowan also blaming her. This results in an argument between David and Rowan which climaxes with shouting “I wish I’d never met you David Willows!”. Amelia feels even worse after, believing herself to be the one who caused the argument.

-She insists on joining David for the expedition into the Sunken Vault and helps in bringing down its guardian.

-She becomes heartbroken when R murders Jacob but even more so when David leaves in the middle of the night, having snapped his wand.

-Moody tracks her down and talks to her as well as a few others, promising to bring David back and keeping them at Grimmauld Place.

-When David is brought back, it’s here that she alongside David and Rowan form the Circle of Khanna in remembrance of Alder.

Year 5 (1990)

-She assists in keeping David hidden in the Room of Requirement, knowing R is going to come after him. Using privileges she obtains as the 5th year prefect to wander the halls mostly unchallenged.

-She joins in the final battle against R, facing of against Nisus alongside Rowan. The battle ends when Valkyrie (Amelia’s hippogriff) grabs Nisus’s skull with enough force to fracture it, killing him.

-She’s able to complete her O.W.Ls and helps in winning the Quidditch cup for Hufflepuff, David appoints her captain seeing as he’ll be graduating.

Year 6 (1991)

-Takes Alchemy as an Elective.

-(Note may not actually happen but I find the thought of Amelia taking the Golden Trio under her wing to be an intriguing idea).

Year 7 (1992)

-Her status as a powerful Muggleborn makes her a prime target for the Basilisk, resulting in her petrification. 

-Saved by the efforts of the Golden Trio, though forced to cram and take her N.E.W.Ts in the summer.

Post Hogwarts

-Gets in touch with a contact provided by Professor Kettleburn as a trainee magizoologist. Starting up an apothecary business on the side.

-She attends David and Merula’s wedding in 1994 as one of the bridesmaids.

-She joins the Order of the Phoenix in 1995, using her apothecary as a safe house and providing potions for the Order when they’re needed.

-In 1997, her apothecary is destroyed, luckily she’s able to escape and goes on the run from the death eaters.

-She assists in the Battle of Hogwarts in 1998, once again providing potions and healing magic to those who need it. That being said, she takes down a fair few death eaters herself.

-She continues to work as a magizoologist after the war, even managing to rebuild her apothecary.

Family:

Peter Booth (Father, deceased):

Face Claim: Ben Whishaw

A fun-loving family man, Peter worked as a plumber known for his warm attitude. He taught all of his kids how to ride a bike, one of the last things Amelia really remembers about her father.

Sadly, he was killed in a car accident when Amelia was just five years old.

Matthew Hall (step-father):

Face Claim: Ben Miller

A stern but fair CIMA-qualified accountant, Matthew first came into Amelia’s life when she was just seven. When she was eight, Matthew and Lyra officially got together, something that upset Amelia, thinking her mum was trying to replace her dad.

The two would reconcile, though it would take time with the assurance that he wasn’t there to replace Peter. It was he who recognised Amelia’s magical abilities when they manifested shortly before her eleventh birthday.

Lyra Booth (nee Robinson) (mother):

Face Claim: Ruth Wilson

Another CIMA-qualified accountant, Lyra and Amelia are very close. She was shocked when she learned her daughter had magical abilities. It was her demand to invite David over for Christmas in 1984. Something which ultimately proved comforting knowing there was someone looking out for her.

Alex Booth (brother):

Face Claim: Jody Latham

Her older brother, Alex is very much protective of his little sister. Her going off to a boarding school that was part of a world that he had no idea about was worrying. That being said, he begins to worry about her less when she and David try to explain Quidditch to him.

Sarah Booth (sister):

Face Claim: Emilia Clarke

Amelia’s sister, initially very highly strung about Amelia joining the wizarding world and being far more vocal about it than the other members of her family. Though she becomes endeared to David eventually and is even fascinated by stories told to her by Amelia about her magical creatures.

Jacob Hall (step-brother, deceased):

Face Claim: Tom Holland

Amelia was highly of suspicious of Jacob, largely for causing David pain. To the extent she slapped him when they got into an argument after Jacob said “David is my brother, so-” *SMACK* “HE’S MY BROTHER TOO, YOU SELFISH BASTARD!”

That being said, their relationship becomes more cordial over the course of the year and is one of those who mourns Jacob’s death.

David Willows (step-brother):

Face Claim: Dave Franco

Initially intimidated by her future step-brother, Amelia didn’t know what to make of him. After he gave her a demonstration of a Lumos spell, she started thinking he was cool.

Though there’s been the occasional rough patch, Amelia considers David a blood relative and would gladly protect him with her life knowing he’d do the same for her.

Allegiances:

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff

Affiliations: The Circle of Khanna, The Order of the Phoenix, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Professions: Trainee magizoologist (1993-95)

Potioneer (on the side) (1993-95 then 1998-present) (Full-time) (1995-1998)

Magizoologist (1998-Present)

Hogwarts Information:

Class Proficiencies:

Astronomy: P

Charms: A

DADA: A

Herbology: O

History of Magic: P

Potions: O

Transfiguration: E

Electives:

Alchemy: E

COMC: O

Divination: A

Study of Ancient Runes: E

Quidditch:

Hufflepuff Keeper (1987-1991)

Hufflepuff Captain (1991)

Extra Curricular:

Hippogriff Club

Hufflepuff Prefect: 1991-93

Favourite Professors

Professor Sprout: Her head of house and the one who suggested she become a Prefect, Sprout was there to comfort her after Alder was killed. Amelia often assists in tending to the greenhouses.

Professor Snape: Despite Snape’s dour and very much intimidating presence, Amelia found potion making a subject she often practised in her free time, using Snape’s instructions of course. Though not quite as enthusiastic about him as Penny Haywood, Amelia will admit Snape can be a good teacher.

Professor Kettleburn: Though considered nuts by most staff and students, Amelia very much respects Kettleburn for still working with creatures even they’ve maimed him so many times. She’s even talked with him about her insecurities around her scars.

Least Favourite Professors:

Professor Binns: Like many Hogwarts students, Amelia would rather sleep through Binns’ lessons than study. Even the most fascinating of magical history go in one ear and out the other when Binns is teaching her. 

Best canon friends:

-Barnaby Lee

-Liz Tuttle

-Charlie Weasley

-Penny Haywood

-Orion Amari

Love Interest:

I’ve not decided on a love interest for her or even if I’ll give her one. If you’d like to suggest your MC to be her love interest, let’s chat!

Best MC friends:

David Willows: David is Amelia’s step-brother, being introduced to each other in Christmas 1984. Becoming Quidditch teammates in Amelia’s second year, David would go on to appoint Amelia captain of the Quidditch team

Judith Harris (@judediangelo75​): Judith is the beater on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. During a match, Amelia trusts Judith to keep the bludgers off her back. Judith sometimes supervises Amelia on the creature reserve and will even have races between her Swedish Short Snout and Judith's Ukrainian Ironbelly. 

 Lizzie Jameson (@lifeofkaze​): Lizzie is one of the chasers on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team and was over the moon when Amelia joined as the keeper. Outside of Quidditch practice, Amelia sometimes spends time at the magical creatures reserve with Lizzie and Charlie.

If you’d like your MC to be friends with her, let me know!

Rivals: 

During Qudditch: Andre Egwu, Erika Rath, Skye Parkin, Charlie Weasley, Oliver Wood, Cato Reese (@catohphm) and Katriona Cassiopea (@kc-needs-coffee​).

Otherwise she doesn’t really have any.

Enemies:

R

Death Eaters

Magical creature poachers

Magical Abilities

Wand: Chestnut, phoenix feather core, nine and a half inches, rigid.

Chestnut wands prefer witches and wizards who are skilled tamers of magical beasts, those who possess great gifts in Herbology, and those who are natural fliers.

This is the rarest core type. Phoenix feathers are capable of the greatest range of magic, though they may take longer than either unicorn or dragon cores to reveal this. They show the most initiative, sometimes acting of their own accord, a quality that many witches and wizards dislike. Phoenix feather wands are always the pickiest when it comes to potential owners, for the creature from which they are taken is one of the most independent and detached in the world. These wands are the hardest to tame and to personalise, and their allegiance is usually hard won.

Animagus Form: N/A

Misc magical abilities: 

Occlumency: David teaches her Occlumency when he can to keep her safe from certain threats, especially in relation to R and other magical effects such as the legilimency of the wampus cat. 

Boggart form: Her dad’s Vauxhall Viva, blaring its headlights and revving its engine.

Riddikulus form: The car shrinks and turns into a wind-up toy playing a musical horn.

Amortentia (what do they smell like?): Damp earth and straw

Amortentia (What do they smell?): Lavender and mint.

Patronus: Abraxan.

Patronus memory: The feeling of freedom and wind in her hair as her dad let her bicycle go. She knows he would want his little princess to keep going forward.

Mirror of Erised: Her dad is back, telling her how proud he is of all of her accomplishments.

Specialised/ Favourite spells:

Bombarda (and Maxima): Taught to her by Rue, David’s mother, thanks to that teaching she’s learned to concentrate the spell so it’s much more powerful. Especially useful against creatures with magic-resistant hides such as dragons and trolls

Conjunctivitus curse: Not having the luxury of being a legilimens means Amelia has to get a bit crafty in her spellwork, especially when facing highly dangerous creatures. Blinding them is a guaranteed way to distract them.

Incendio: Useful for starting a campfire on her expeditions as a magizoologist, it helps that it can be used as an offensive spell.

Protego: Always useful when blocking projectiles and other spell attacks.

Misc Information:

She has far more creatures on the reserve than David: A niffler (Glimmer), a porlock (Macha), an Abraxan (Emerald), a fairy (Pearl), a Bowtruckle (Twiggy), a hippogriff (Valkyrie), a Thestral (Skull), a Unicorn (Bismuth), a frost salamander (Sapphire), a salamander (Ruby), a Swedish Short Snout (Torak), a fire crab (Garnet), an Imp (Clanger) and a Quintaped (Angus).

[hldailyupdate]

Playtime With Harry Styles

THE MEN’S BATHING POND in London’s Hampstead Heath at daybreak on a gloomy September morning seemed such an unlikely locale for my first meeting with Harry Styles, music’s legendarily charm-heavy style czar, that I wondered perhaps if something had been lost in translation.

But then there is Styles, cheerily gung ho, hidden behind a festive yellow bandana mask and a sweatshirt of his own design, surprisingly printed with three portraits of his intellectual pinup, the author Alain de Botton. “I love his writing,” says Styles. “I just think he’s brilliant. I saw him give a talk about the keys to happiness, and how one of the keys is living among friends, and how real friendship stems from being vulnerable with someone.”

In turn, de Botton’s 2016 novel The Course of Love taught Styles that “when it comes to relationships, you just expect yourself to be good at it…[but] being in a real relationship with someone is a skill,” one that Styles himself has often had to hone in the unforgiving klieg light of public attention, and in the company of such high-profile paramours as Taylor Swift and—well, Styles is too much of a gentleman to name names.

That sweatshirt and the Columbia Records tracksuit bottoms are removed in the quaint wooden open-air changing room, with its Swallows and Amazons vibe. A handful of intrepid fellow patrons in various states of undress are blissfully unaware of the 26-year-old supernova in their midst, although I must admit I’m finding it rather difficult to take my eyes off him, try as I might. Styles has been on a six-day juice cleanse in readiness for Vogue’s photographer Tyler Mitchell. He practices Pilates (“I’ve got very tight hamstrings—trying to get those open”) and meditates twice a day. “It has changed my life,” he avers, “but it’s so subtle. It’s helped me just be more present. I feel like I’m able to enjoy the things that are happening right in front of me, even if it’s food or it’s coffee or it’s being with a friend—or a swim in a really cold pond!” Styles also feels that his meditation practices have helped him through the tumult of 2020: “Meditation just brings a stillness that has been really beneficial, I think, for my mental health.”

Styles has been a pescatarian for three years, inspired by the vegan food that several members of his current band prepared on tour. “My body definitely feels better for it,” he says. His shapely torso is prettily inscribed with the tattoos of a Victorian sailor—a rose, a galleon, a mermaid, an anchor, and a palm tree among them, and, straddling his clavicle, the dates 1967 and 1957 (the respective birth years of his mother and father). Frankly, I rather wish I’d packed a beach muumuu.

We take the piratical gangplank that juts into the water and dive in. Let me tell you, this is not the Aegean. The glacial water is a cloudy phlegm green beneath the surface, and clammy reeds slap one’s ankles. Styles, who admits he will try any fad, has recently had a couple of cryotherapy sessions and is evidently less susceptible to the cold. By the time we have swum a full circuit, however, body temperatures have adjusted, and the ice, you might say, has been broken. Duly invigorated, we are ready to face the day. Styles has thoughtfully brought a canister of coffee and some bottles of water in his backpack, and we sit at either end of a park bench for a socially distanced chat.

It seems that he has had a productive year. At the onset of lockdown, Styles found himself in his second home, in the canyons of Los Angeles. After a few days on his own, however, he moved in with a pod of three friends (and subsequently with two band members, Mitch Rowland and Sarah Jones). They “would put names in a hat and plan the week out,” Styles explains. “If you were Monday, you would choose the movie, dinner, and the activity for that day. I like to make soups, and there was a big array of movies; we went all over the board,” from Goodfellas to Clueless. The experience, says Styles, “has been a really good lesson in what makes me happy now. It’s such a good example of living in the moment. I honestly just like being around my friends,” he adds. “That’s been my biggest takeaway. Just being on my own the whole time, I would have been miserable.”

Styles is big on friendship groups and considers his former and legendarily hysteria-inducing boy band, One Direction, to have been one of them. “I think the typical thing is to come out of a band like that and almost feel like you have to apologize for being in it,” says Styles. “But I loved my time in it. It was all new to me, and I was trying to learn as much as I could. I wanted to soak it in…. I think that’s probably why I like traveling now—soaking stuff up.” In a post-COVID future, he is contemplating a temporary move to Tokyo, explaining that “there’s a respect and a stillness, a quietness that I really loved every time I’ve been there.”

In 1D, Styles was making music whenever he could. “After a show you’d go in a hotel room and put down some vocals,” he recalls. As a result, his first solo album, 2017’s Harry Styles, “was when I really fell in love with being in the studio,” he says. “I loved it as much as touring.” Today he favors isolating with his core group of collaborators, “our little bubble”—Rowland, Kid Harpoon (né Tom Hull), and Tyler Johnson. “A safe space,” as he describes it.

In the music he has been working on in 2020, Styles wants to capture the experimental spirit that informed his second album, last year’s Fine Line. With his debut album, “I was very much finding out what my sound was as a solo artist,” he says. “I can see all the places where it almost felt like I was bowling with the bumpers up. I think with the second album I let go of the fear of getting it wrong and…it was really joyous and really free. I think with music it’s so important to evolve—and that extends to clothes and videos and all that stuff. That’s why you look back at David Bowie with Ziggy Stardust or the Beatles and their different eras—that fearlessness is super inspiring.”

The seismic changes of 2020—including the Black Lives Matter uprising around racial justice—has also provided Styles with an opportunity for personal growth. “I think it’s a time for opening up and learning and listening,” he says. “I’ve been trying to read and educate myself so that in 20 years I’m still doing the right things and taking the right steps. I believe in karma, and I think it’s just a time right now where we could use a little more kindness and empathy and patience with people, be a little more prepared to listen and grow.”

Meanwhile, Styles’s euphoric single “Watermelon Sugar” became something of an escapist anthem for this dystopian summer of 2020. The video, featuring Styles (dressed in ’70s-­flavored Gucci and Bode) cavorting with a pack of beach-babe girls and boys, was shot in January, before lockdown rules came into play. By the time it was ready to be released in May, a poignant epigraph had been added: “This video is dedicated to touching.”

Styles is looking forward to touring again, when “it’s safe for everyone,” because, as he notes, “being up against people is part of the whole thing. You can’t really re-create it in any way.” But it hasn’t always been so. Early in his career, Styles was so stricken with stage fright that he regularly threw up preperformance. “I just always thought I was going to mess up or something,” he remembers. “But I’ve felt really lucky to have a group of incredibly generous fans. They’re generous emotionally—and when they come to the show, they give so much that it creates this atmosphere that I’ve always found so loving and accepting.”

THIS SUMMER, when it was safe enough to travel, Styles returned to his London home, which is where he suggests we head now, setting off in his modish Primrose Yellow ’73 Jaguar that smells of gasoline and leatherette. “Me and my dad have always bonded over cars,” Styles explains. “I never thought I’d be someone who just went out for a leisurely drive, purely for enjoyment.” On sleepless jet-lagged nights he’ll drive through London’s quiet streets, seeing neighborhoods in a new way. “I find it quite relaxing,” he says.

Over the summer Styles took a road trip with his artist friend Tomo Campbell through France and Italy, setting off at four in the morning and spending the night in Geneva, where they jumped in the lake “to wake ourselves up.” (I see a pattern emerging.) At the end of the trip Styles drove home alone, accompanied by an upbeat playlist that included “Aretha Franklin, Parliament, and a lot of Stevie Wonder. It was really fun for me,” he says. “I don’t travel like that a lot. I’m usually in such a rush, but there was a stillness to it. I love the feeling of nobody knowing where I am, that kind of escape...and freedom.”

GROWING UP in a village in the North of England, Styles thought of London as a world apart: “It truly felt like a different country.” At a wide-eyed 16, he came down to the teeming metropolis after his mother entered him on the U.K. talent-search show The X Factor. “I went to the audition to find out if I could sing,” Styles recalls, “or if my mum was just being nice to me.” Styles was eliminated but subsequently brought back with other contestants—Niall Horan, Liam Payne, Louis Tomlinson, and Zayn Malik—to form a boy band that was named (on Styles’s suggestion) One Direction. The wily X Factor creator and judge, Simon Cowell, soon signed them to his label Syco Records, and the rest is history: 1D’s first four albums, supported by four world tours from 2011 to 2015, debuted at number one on the U.S. Billboard charts, and the band has sold 70 million records to date. At 18, Styles bought the London house he now calls home. “I was going to do two weeks’ work to it,” he remembers, “but when I came back there was no second floor,” so he moved in with adult friends who lived nearby till the renovation was complete. “Eighteen months,” he deadpans. “I’ve always seen that period as pretty pivotal for me, as there’s that moment at the party where it’s getting late, and half of the people would go upstairs to do drugs, and the other people go home. I was like, ‘I don’t really know this friend’s wife, so I’m not going to get all messy and then go home.’ I had to behave a bit, at a time where everything else about my life felt I didn’t have to behave really. I’ve been lucky to always feel I have this family unit somewhere.”

When Styles’s London renovation was finally done, “I went in for the first time and I cried,” he recalls. “Because I just felt like I had somewhere. L.A. feels like holiday, but this feels like home.”

“There’s so much joy to be had in playing with clothes. I’ve never thought too much about what it means—it just becomes this extended part of creating something”

Behind its pink door, Styles’s house has all the trappings of rock stardom—there’s a man cave filled with guitars, a Sex Pistols Never Mind the Bollocks poster (a moving-in gift from his decorator), a Stevie Nicks album cover. Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams” was one of the first songs he knew the words to—“My parents were big fans”—and he and Nicks have formed something of a mutual-admiration society. At the beginning of lockdown, Nicks tweeted to her fans that she was taking inspiration from Fine Line: “Way to go, H,” she wrote. “It is your Rumours.” “She’s always there for you,” said Styles when he inducted Nicks into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2019. “She knows what you need—advice, a little wisdom, a blouse, a shawl; she’s got you covered.”

Styles makes us some tea in the light-filled kitchen and then wanders into the convivial living room, where he strikes an insouciant pose on the chesterfield sofa, upholstered in a turquoise velvet that perhaps not entirely coincidentally sets off his eyes. Styles admits that his lockdown lewk was “sweatpants, constantly,” and he is relishing the opportunity to dress up again. He doesn’t have to wait long: The following day, under the eaves of a Victorian mansion in Notting Hill, I arrive in the middle of fittings for Vogue’s shoot and discover Styles in his Y-fronts, patiently waiting to try on looks for fashion editor Camilla Nickerson and photographer Tyler Mitchell. Styles’s personal stylist, Harry Lambert, wearing a pearl necklace and his nails colored in various shades of green varnish, à la Sally Bowles, is providing helpful backup (Britain’s Rule of Six hasn’t yet been imposed).

Styles, who has thoughtfully brought me a copy of de Botton’s 2006 book The Architecture of Happiness, is instinctively and almost quaintly polite, in an old-fashioned, holding-open-doors and not-mentioning-lovers-by-name sort of way. He is astounded to discover that the Atlanta-born Mitchell has yet to experience a traditional British Sunday roast dinner. Assuring him that “it’s basically like Thanksgiving every Sunday,” Styles gives Mitchell the details of his favorite London restaurants in which to enjoy one. “It’s a good thing to be nice,” Mitchell tells me after a morning in Styles’s company.

MITCHELL has Lionel Wendt’s languorously homoerotic 1930s portraits of young Sri Lankan men on his mood board. Nickerson is thinking of Irving Penn’s legendary fall 1950 Paris haute couture collections sitting, where he photographed midcentury supermodels, including his wife, Lisa Fonssagrives, in high-style Dior and Balenciaga creations. Styles is up for all of it, and so, it would seem, is the menswear landscape of 2020: Jonathan Anderson has produced a trapeze coat anchored with a chunky gold martingale; John Galliano at Maison Margiela has fashioned a khaki trench with a portrait neckline in layers of colored tulle; and Harris Reed—a Saint Martins fashion student sleuthed by Lambert who ended up making some looks for Styles’s last tour—has spent a week making a broad-shouldered Smoking jacket with high-waisted, wide-leg pants that have become a Styles signature since he posed for Tim Walker for the cover of Fine Line wearing a Gucci pair—a silhouette that was repeated in the tour wardrobe. (“I liked the idea of having that uniform,” says Styles.) Reed’s version is worn with a hoopskirt draped in festoons of hot-pink satin that somehow suggests Deborah Kerr asking Yul Brynner’s King of Siam, “Shall we dance?”

Styles introduces me to the writer and eyewear designer Gemma Styles, “my sister from the same womb,” he says. She is also here for the fitting: The siblings plan to surprise their mother with the double portrait on these pages.

I ask her whether her brother had always been interested in clothes.

“My mum loved to dress us up,” she remembers. “I always hated it, and Harry was always quite into it. She did some really elaborate papier-mâché outfits: She made a giant mug and then painted an atlas on it, and that was Harry being ‘The World Cup.’ Harry also had a little dalmatian-dog outfit,” she adds, “a hand-me-down from our closest family friends. He would just spend an inordinate amount of time wearing that outfit. But then Mum dressed me up as Cruella de Vil. She was always looking for any opportunity!”

“As a kid I definitely liked fancy dress,” Styles says. There were school plays, the first of which cast him as Barney, a church mouse. “I was really young, and I wore tights for that,” he recalls. “I remember it was crazy to me that I was wearing a pair of tights. And that was maybe where it all kicked off!”

Acting has also remained a fundamental form of expression for Styles. His sister recalls that even on the eve of his life-changing X Factor audition, Styles could sing in public only in an assumed voice. “He used to do quite a good sort of Elvis warble,” she remembers. During the rehearsals in the family home, “he would sing in the bathroom because if it was him singing as himself, he just couldn’t have anyone looking at him! I love his voice now,” she adds. “I’m so glad that he makes music that I actually enjoy listening to.”

Styles cuts a cool figure in this black-white-and-red-all-over checked coat by JW Anderson.

Styles’s role-playing continued soon after 1D went on permanent hiatus in 2016, and he was cast in Christopher Nolan’s Dunkirk, beating out dozens of professional actors for the role. “The good part was my character was a young soldier who didn’t really know what he was doing,” says Styles modestly. “The scale of the movie was so big that I was a tiny piece of the puzzle. It was definitely humbling. I just loved being outside of my comfort zone.”

His performance caught the eye of Olivia Wilde, who remembers that it “blew me away—the openness and commitment.” In turn, Styles loved Wilde’s directorial debut, Booksmart, and is “very honored” that she cast him in a leading role for her second feature, a thriller titled Don’t Worry Darling, which went into production this fall. Styles will play the husband to Florence Pugh in what Styles describes as “a 1950s utopia in the California desert.”

Wilde’s movie is costumed by Academy Award nominee Arianne Phillips. “She and I did a little victory dance when we heard that we officially had Harry in the film,” notes Wilde, “because we knew that he has a real appreciation for fashion and style. And this movie is incredibly stylistic. It’s very heightened and opulent, and I’m really grateful that he is so enthusiastic about that element of the process—some actors just don’t care.”

“I like playing dress-up in general,” Styles concurs, in a masterpiece of understatement: This is the man, after all, who cohosted the Met’s 2019 “Notes on Camp” gala attired in a nipple-freeing black organza blouse with a lace jabot, and pants so high-waisted that they cupped his pectorals. The ensemble, accessorized with the pearl-drop earring of a dandified Elizabethan courtier, was created for Styles by Gucci’s Alessandro Michele, whom he befriended in 2014. Styles, who has subsequently personified the brand as the face of the Gucci fragrance, finds Michele “fearless with his work and his imagination. It’s really inspiring to be around someone who works like that.”

The two first met in London over a cappuccino. “It was just a kind of PR appointment,” says Michele, “but something magical happened, and Harry is now a friend. He has the aura of an English rock-and-roll star—like a young Greek god with the attitude of James Dean and a little bit of Mick Jagger—but no one is sweeter. He is the image of a new era, of the way that a man can look.”

Styles credits his style trans­formation—from Jack Wills tracksuit-clad boy-band heartthrob to nonpareil fashionisto—to his meeting the droll young stylist Harry Lambert seven years ago. They hit it off at once and have conspired ever since, enjoying a playfully campy rapport and calling each other Sue and Susan as they parse the niceties of the scarlet lace Gucci man-bra that Michele has made for Vogue’s shoot, for instance, or a pair of Bode pants hand-painted with biographical images (Styles sent Emily Adams Bode images of his family, and a photograph he had found of David Hockney and Joni Mitchell. “The idea of those two being friends, to me, was really beautiful,” Styles explains).

“He just has fun with clothing, and that’s kind of where I’ve got it from,” says Styles of Lambert. “He doesn’t take it too seriously, which means I don’t take it too seriously.” The process has been evolutionary. At his first meeting with Lambert, the stylist proposed “a pair of flares, and I was like, ‘Flares? That’s fucking crazy,’  ” Styles remembers. Now he declares that “you can never be overdressed. There’s no such thing. The people that I looked up to in music—Prince and David Bowie and Elvis and Freddie Mercury and Elton John—they’re such showmen. As a kid it was completely mind-blowing. Now I’ll put on something that feels really flamboyant, and I don’t feel crazy wearing it. I think if you get something that you feel amazing in, it’s like a superhero outfit. Clothes are there to have fun with and experiment with and play with. What’s really exciting is that all of these lines are just kind of crumbling away. When you take away ‘There’s clothes for men and there’s clothes for women,’ once you remove any barriers, obviously you open up the arena in which you can play. I’ll go in shops sometimes, and I just find myself looking at the women’s clothes thinking they’re amazing. It’s like anything—anytime you’re putting barriers up in your own life, you’re just limiting yourself. There’s so much joy to be had in playing with clothes. I’ve never really thought too much about what it means—it just becomes this extended part of creating something.”

“He’s up for it,” confirms Lambert, who earlier this year, for instance, found a JW Anderson cardigan with the look of a Rubik’s Cube (“on sale at matches.com!”). Styles wore it, accessorized with his own pearl necklace, for a Today rehearsal in February and it went viral: His fans were soon knitting their own versions and posting the results on TikTok. Jonathan Anderson declared himself “so impressed and incredibly humbled by this trend” that he nimbly made the pattern available (complete with a YouTube tutorial) so that Styles’s fans could copy it for free. Meanwhile, London’s storied Victoria & Albert Museum has requested Styles’s original: an emblematic document of how people got creative during the COVID era. “It’s going to be in their permanent collection,” says Lambert exultantly. “Is that not sick? Is that not the most epic thing?”

“It’s pretty powerful and kind of extraordinary to see someone in his position redefining what it can mean to be a man with confidence,” says Olivia Wilde

“To me, he’s very modern,” says Wilde of Styles, “and I hope that this brand of confidence as a male that Harry has—truly devoid of any traces of toxic masculinity—is indicative of his generation and therefore the future of the world. I think he is in many ways championing that, spearheading that. It’s pretty powerful and kind of extraordinary to see someone in his position redefining what it can mean to be a man with confidence.”

“He’s really in touch with his feminine side because it’s something natural,” notes Michele. “And he’s a big inspiration to a younger generation—about how you can be in a totally free playground when you feel comfortable. I think that he’s a revolutionary.”

There are references aplenty in this look by Harris Reed, which features a Victoriana crinoline, 1980s shoulders, and pants of zoot-suit proportions.

STYLES’S confidence is on full display the day after the fitting, which finds us all on the beautiful Sussex dales. Over the summit of the hill, with its trees blown horizontal by the fierce winds, lies the English Channel. Even though it’s a two-hour drive from London, the fresh-faced Styles, who went to bed at 9 p.m., has arrived on set early: He is famously early for everything. The team is installed in a traditional flint-stone barn. The giant doors have been replaced by glass and frame a bucolic view of distant grazing sheep. “Look at that field!” says Styles. “How lucky are we? This is our office! Smell the roses!” Lambert starts to sing “Kumbaya, my Lord.”

Hairdresser Malcolm Edwards is setting Styles’s hair in a Victory roll with silver clips, and until it is combed out he resembles Kathryn Grayson with stubble. His fingers are freighted with rings, and “he has a new army of mini purses,” says Lambert, gesturing to an accessory table heaving with examples including a mini sky-blue Gucci Diana bag discreetly monogrammed HS. Michele has also made Styles a dress for the shoot that Tissot might have liked to paint—acres of ice-blue ruffles, black Valenciennes lace, and suivez-moi, jeune homme ribbons. Erelong, Styles is gamely racing up a hill in it, dodging sheep scat, thistles, and shards of chalk, and striking a pose for Mitchell that manages to make ruffles a compelling new masculine proposition, just as Mr. Fish’s frothy white cotton dress—equal parts Romantic poet and Greek presidential guard—did for Mick Jagger when he wore it for The Rolling Stones’ free performance in Hyde Park in 1969, or as the suburban-mom floral housedress did for Kurt Cobain as he defined the iconoclastic grunge aesthetic. Styles is mischievously singing ABBA’s “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight)” to himself when Mitchell calls him outside to jump up and down on a trampoline in a Comme des Garçons buttoned wool kilt. “How did it look?” asks his sister when he comes in from the cold. “Divine,” says her brother in playful Lambert-speak.

As the wide sky is washed in pink, orange, and gray, like a Turner sunset, and Mitchell calls it a successful day, Styles is playing “Cherry” from Fine Line on his Fender acoustic on the hilltop. “He does his own stunts,” says his sister, laughing. The impromptu set is greeted with applause. “Thank you, Antwerp!” says Styles playfully, bowing to the crowd. “Thank you, fashion!”

[hlupdate]

THE MEN’S BATHING POND in London’s Hampstead Heath at daybreak on a gloomy September morning seemed such an unlikely locale for my first meeting with Harry Styles, music’s legendarily charm-heavy style czar, that I wondered perhaps if something had been lost in translation.

But then there is Styles, cheerily gung ho, hidden behind a festive yellow bandana mask and a sweatshirt of his own design, surprisingly printed with three portraits of his intellectual pinup, the author Alain de Botton. “I love his writing,” says Styles. “I just think he’s brilliant. I saw him give a talk about the keys to happiness, and how one of the keys is living among friends, and how real friendship stems from being vulnerable with someone.”

In turn, de Botton’s 2016 novel The Course of Love taught Styles that “when it comes to relationships, you just expect yourself to be good at it…[but] being in a real relationship with someone is a skill,” one that Styles himself has often had to hone in the unforgiving klieg light of public attention, and in the company of such high-profile paramours as Taylor Swift and—well, Styles is too much of a gentleman to name names.

That sweatshirt and the Columbia Records tracksuit bottoms are removed in the quaint wooden open-air changing room, with its Swallows and Amazons vibe. A handful of intrepid fellow patrons in various states of undress are blissfully unaware of the 26-year-old supernova in their midst, although I must admit I’m finding it rather difficult to take my eyes off him, try as I might. Styles has been on a six-day juice cleanse in readiness for Vogue’s photographer Tyler Mitchell. He practices Pilates (“I’ve got very tight hamstrings—trying to get those open”) and meditates twice a day. “It has changed my life,” he avers, “but it’s so subtle. It’s helped me just be more present. I feel like I’m able to enjoy the things that are happening right in front of me, even if it’s food or it’s coffee or it’s being with a friend—or a swim in a really cold pond!” Styles also feels that his meditation practices have helped him through the tumult of 2020: “Meditation just brings a stillness that has been really beneficial, I think, for my mental health.”

Styles has been a pescatarian for three years, inspired by the vegan food that several members of his current band prepared on tour. “My body definitely feels better for it,” he says. His shapely torso is prettily inscribed with the tattoos of a Victorian sailor—a rose, a galleon, a mermaid, an anchor, and a palm tree among them, and, straddling his clavicle, the dates 1967 and 1957 (the respective birth years of his mother and father). Frankly, I rather wish I’d packed a beach muumuu.

We take the piratical gangplank that juts into the water and dive in. Let me tell you, this is not the Aegean. The glacial water is a cloudy phlegm green beneath the surface, and clammy reeds slap one’s ankles. Styles, who admits he will try any fad, has recently had a couple of cryotherapy sessions and is evidently less susceptible to the cold. By the time we have swum a full circuit, however, body temperatures have adjusted, and the ice, you might say, has been broken. Duly invigorated, we are ready to face the day. Styles has thoughtfully brought a canister of coffee and some bottles of water in his backpack, and we sit at either end of a park bench for a socially distanced chat.

It seems that he has had a productive year. At the onset of lockdown, Styles found himself in his second home, in the canyons of Los Angeles. After a few days on his own, however, he moved in with a pod of three friends (and subsequently with two band members, Mitch Rowland and Sarah Jones). They “would put names in a hat and plan the week out,” Styles explains. “If you were Monday, you would choose the movie, dinner, and the activity for that day. I like to make soups, and there was a big array of movies; we went all over the board,” from Goodfellas to Clueless. The experience, says Styles, “has been a really good lesson in what makes me happy now. It’s such a good example of living in the moment. I honestly just like being around my friends,” he adds. “That’s been my biggest takeaway. Just being on my own the whole time, I would have been miserable.”

Styles is big on friendship groups and considers his former and legendarily hysteria-inducing boy band, One Direction, to have been one of them. “I think the typical thing is to come out of a band like that and almost feel like you have to apologize for being in it,” says Styles. “But I loved my time in it. It was all new to me, and I was trying to learn as much as I could. I wanted to soak it in…. I think that’s probably why I like traveling now—soaking stuff up.” In a post-COVID future, he is contemplating a temporary move to Tokyo, explaining that “there’s a respect and a stillness, a quietness that I really loved every time I’ve been there.”

In 1D, Styles was making music whenever he could. “After a show you’d go in a hotel room and put down some vocals,” he recalls. As a result, his first solo album, 2017’s Harry Styles, “was when I really fell in love with being in the studio,” he says. “I loved it as much as touring.” Today he favors isolating with his core group of collaborators, “our little bubble”—Rowland, Kid Harpoon (né Tom Hull), and Tyler Johnson. “A safe space,” as he describes it.

In the music he has been working on in 2020, Styles wants to capture the experimental spirit that informed his second album, last year’s Fine Line. With his debut album, “I was very much finding out what my sound was as a solo artist,” he says. “I can see all the places where it almost felt like I was bowling with the bumpers up. I think with the second album I let go of the fear of getting it wrong and…it was really joyous and really free. I think with music it’s so important to evolve—and that extends to clothes and videos and all that stuff. That’s why you look back at David Bowie with Ziggy Stardust or the Beatles and their different eras—that fearlessness is super inspiring.”

The seismic changes of 2020—including the Black Lives Matter uprising around racial justice—has also provided Styles with an opportunity for personal growth. “I think it’s a time for opening up and learning and listening,” he says. “I’ve been trying to read and educate myself so that in 20 years I’m still doing the right things and taking the right steps. I believe in karma, and I think it’s just a time right now where we could use a little more kindness and empathy and patience with people, be a little more prepared to listen and grow.”

Meanwhile, Styles’s euphoric single “Watermelon Sugar” became something of an escapist anthem for this dystopian summer of 2020. The video, featuring Styles (dressed in ’70s-­flavored Gucci and Bode) cavorting with a pack of beach-babe girls and boys, was shot in January, before lockdown rules came into play. By the time it was ready to be released in May, a poignant epigraph had been added: “This video is dedicated to touching.”

Styles is looking forward to touring again, when “it’s safe for everyone,” because, as he notes, “being up against people is part of the whole thing. You can’t really re-create it in any way.” But it hasn’t always been so. Early in his career, Styles was so stricken with stage fright that he regularly threw up preperformance. “I just always thought I was going to mess up or something,” he remembers. “But I’ve felt really lucky to have a group of incredibly generous fans. They’re generous emotionally—and when they come to the show, they give so much that it creates this atmosphere that I’ve always found so loving and accepting.”

THIS SUMMER, when it was safe enough to travel, Styles returned to his London home, which is where he suggests we head now, setting off in his modish Primrose Yellow ’73 Jaguar that smells of gasoline and leatherette. “Me and my dad have always bonded over cars,” Styles explains. “I never thought I’d be someone who just went out for a leisurely drive, purely for enjoyment.” On sleepless jet-lagged nights he’ll drive through London’s quiet streets, seeing neighborhoods in a new way. “I find it quite relaxing,” he says.

Over the summer Styles took a road trip with his artist friend Tomo Campbell through France and Italy,setting off at four in the morning and spending the night in Geneva, where they jumped in the lake “to wake ourselves up.” (I see a pattern emerging.) At the end of the trip Styles drove home alone, accompanied by an upbeat playlist that included “Aretha Franklin, Parliament, and a lot of Stevie Wonder. It was really fun for me,” he says. “I don’t travel like that a lot. I’m usually in such a rush, but there was a stillness to it. I love the feeling of nobody knowing where I am, that kind of escape...and freedom.”

GROWING UP in a village in the North of England, Styles thought of London as a world apart: “It truly felt like a different country.” At a wide-eyed 16, he came down to the teeming metropolis after his mother entered him on the U.K. talent-search show The X Factor. “I went to the audition to find out if I could sing,” Styles recalls, “or if my mum was just being nice to me.” Styles was eliminated but subsequently brought back with other contestants—Niall Horan, Liam Payne, Louis Tomlinson, and Zayn Malik—to form a boy band that was named (on Styles’s suggestion) One Direction. The wily X Factor creator and judge, Simon Cowell, soon signed them to his label Syco Records, and the rest is history: 1D’s first four albums, supported by four world tours from 2011 to 2015, debuted at number one on the U.S. Billboardcharts, and the band has sold 70 million records to date. At 18, Styles bought the London house he now calls home. “I was going to do two weeks’ work to it,” he remembers, “but when I came back there was no second floor,” so he moved in with adult friends who lived nearby till the renovation was complete. “Eighteen months,” he deadpans. “I’ve always seen that period as pretty pivotal for me, as there’s that moment at the party where it’s getting late, and half of the people would go upstairs to do drugs, and the other people go home. I was like, ‘I don’t really know this friend’s wife, so I’m not going to get all messy and then go home.’ I had to behave a bit, at a time where everything else about my life felt I didn’t have to behave really. I’ve been lucky to always feel I have this family unit somewhere.”

When Styles’s London renovation was finally done, “I went in for the first time and I cried,” he recalls. “Because I just felt like I had somewhere. L.A. feels like holiday, but this feels like home.”

“There’s so much joy to be had in playing with clothes. I’ve never thought too much about what it means—it just becomes this extended part of creating something”

Behind its pink door, Styles’s house has all the trappings of rock stardom—there’s a man cave filled with guitars, a Sex Pistols Never Mind the Bollocks poster (a moving-in gift from his decorator), a Stevie Nicksalbum cover. Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams” was one of the first songs he knew the words to—“My parents were big fans”—and he and Nicks have formed something of a mutual-admiration society. At the beginning of lockdown, Nicks tweeted to her fans that she was taking inspiration from Fine Line: “Way to go, H,” she wrote. “It is your Rumours.” “She’s always there for you,” said Styles when he inducted Nicks into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2019. “She knows what you need—advice, a little wisdom, a blouse, a shawl; she’s got you covered.”

Styles makes us some tea in the light-filled kitchen and then wanders into the convivial living room, where he strikes an insouciant pose on the chesterfield sofa, upholstered in a turquoise velvet that perhaps not entirely coincidentally sets off his eyes. Styles admits that his lockdown lewk was “sweatpants, constantly,” and he is relishing the opportunity to dress up again. He doesn’t have to wait long: The following day, under the eaves of a Victorian mansion in Notting Hill, I arrive in the middle of fittings for Vogue’s shoot and discover Styles in his Y-fronts, patiently waiting to try on looks for fashion editor Camilla Nickerson and photographer Tyler Mitchell. Styles’s personal stylist, Harry Lambert, wearing a pearl necklace and his nails colored in various shades of green varnish, à la Sally Bowles, is providing helpful backup (Britain’s Rule of Six hasn’t yet been imposed).

Styles, who has thoughtfully brought me a copy of de Botton’s 2006 book The Architecture of Happiness,is instinctively and almost quaintly polite, in an old-fashioned, holding-open-doors and not-mentioning-lovers-by-name sort of way. He is astounded to discover that the Atlanta-born Mitchell has yet to experience a traditional British Sunday roast dinner. Assuring him that “it’s basically like Thanksgiving every Sunday,” Styles gives Mitchell the details of his favorite London restaurants in which to enjoy one. “It’s a good thing to be nice,” Mitchell tells me after a morning in Styles’s company.

MITCHELL has Lionel Wendt’s languorously homoerotic 1930s portraits of young Sri Lankan men on his mood board. Nickerson is thinking of Irving Penn’s legendary fall 1950 Paris haute couture collections sitting, where he photographed midcentury supermodels, including his wife, Lisa Fonssagrives, in high-style Dior and Balenciaga creations. Styles is up for all of it, and so, it would seem, is the menswear landscape of 2020: Jonathan Anderson has produced a trapeze coat anchored with a chunky gold martingale; John Galliano at Maison Margiela has fashioned a khaki trench with a portrait neckline in layers of colored tulle; and Harris Reed—a Saint Martins fashion student sleuthed by Lambert who ended up making some looks for Styles’s last tour—has spent a week making a broad-shouldered Smoking jacket with high-waisted, wide-leg pants that have become a Styles signature since he posed for Tim Walker for the cover of Fine Line wearing a Gucci pair—a silhouette that was repeated in the tour wardrobe. (“I liked the idea of having that uniform,” says Styles.) Reed’s version is worn with a hoopskirt draped in festoons of hot-pink satin that somehow suggests Deborah Kerr asking Yul Brynner’s King of Siam, “Shall we dance?”

Styles introduces me to the writer and eyewear designer Gemma Styles, “my sister from the same womb,” he says. She is also here for the fitting: The siblings plan to surprise their mother with the double portrait on these pages.

I ask her whether her brother had always been interested in clothes.

“My mum loved to dress us up,” she remembers. “I always hated it, and Harry was always quite into it. She did some really elaborate papier-mâché outfits: She made a giant mug and then painted an atlas on it, and that was Harry being ‘The World Cup.’ Harry also had a little dalmatian-dog outfit,” she adds, “a hand-me-down from our closest family friends. He would just spend an inordinate amount of time wearing that outfit. But then Mum dressed me up as Cruella de Vil. She was always looking for any opportunity!”

“As a kid I definitely liked fancy dress,” Styles says. There were school plays, the first of which cast him as Barney, a church mouse. “I was really young, and I wore tights for that,” he recalls. “I remember it was crazy to me that I was wearing a pair of tights. And that was maybe where it all kicked off!”

Acting has also remained a fundamental form of expression for Styles. His sister recalls that even on the eve of his life-changing X Factor audition, Styles could sing in public only in an assumed voice. “He used to do quite a good sort of Elvis warble,” she remembers. During the rehearsals in the family home, “he would sing in the bathroom because if it was him singing as himself, he just couldn’t have anyone looking at him! I love his voice now,” she adds. “I’m so glad that he makes music that I actually enjoy listening to.”

Styles’s role-playing continued soon after 1D went on permanent hiatus in 2016, and he was cast in Christopher Nolan’s Dunkirk, beating out dozens of professional actors for the role. “The good part was my character was a young soldier who didn’t really know what he was doing,” says Styles modestly. “The scale of the movie was so big that I was a tiny piece of the puzzle. It was definitely humbling. I just loved being outside of my comfort zone.”

His performance caught the eye of Olivia Wilde, who remembers that it “blew me away—the openness and commitment.” In turn, Styles loved Wilde’s directorial debut, Booksmart, and is “very honored” that she cast him in a leading role for her second feature, a thriller titled Don’t Worry Darling, which went into production this fall. Styles will play the husband to Florence Pugh in what Styles describes as “a 1950s utopia in the California desert.”

Wilde’s movie is costumed by Academy Award nominee Arianne Phillips. “She and I did a little victory dance when we heard that we officially had Harry in the film,” notes Wilde, “because we knew that he has a real appreciation for fashion and style. And this movie is incredibly stylistic. It’s very heightened and opulent, and I’m really grateful that he is so enthusiastic about that element of the process—some actors just don’t care.”

“I like playing dress-up in general,” Styles concurs, in a masterpiece of understatement: This is the man, after all, who cohosted the Met’s 2019 “Notes on Camp” gala attired in a nipple-freeing black organza blouse with a lace jabot, and pants so high-waisted that they cupped his pectorals. The ensemble, accessorized with the pearl-drop earring of a dandified Elizabethan courtier, was created for Styles by Gucci’s Alessandro Michele, whom he befriended in 2014. Styles, who has subsequently personified the brand as the face of the Gucci fragrance, finds Michele “fearless with his work and his imagination. It’s really inspiring to be around someone who works like that.”

The two first met in London over a cappuccino. “It was just a kind of PR appointment,” says Michele, “but something magical happened, and Harry is now a friend. He has the aura of an English rock-and-roll star—like a young Greek god with the attitude of James Dean and a little bit of Mick Jagger—but no one is sweeter. He is the image of a new era, of the way that a man can look.”

Styles credits his style trans­formation—from Jack Wills tracksuit-clad boy-band heartthrob to nonpareil fashionisto—to his meeting the droll young stylist Harry Lambert seven years ago. They hit it off at once and have conspired ever since, enjoying a playfully campy rapport and calling each other Sue and Susan as they parse the niceties of the scarlet lace Gucci man-bra that Michele has made for Vogue’s shoot, for instance, or a pair of Bode pants hand-painted with biographical images (Styles sent Emily Adams Bode images of his family, and a photograph he had found of David Hockney and Joni Mitchell. “The idea of those two being friends, to me, was really beautiful,” Styles explains).

“He just has fun with clothing, and that’s kind of where I’ve got it from,” says Styles of Lambert. “He doesn’t take it too seriously, which means I don’t take it too seriously.” The process has been evolutionary. At his first meeting with Lambert, the stylist proposed “a pair of flares, and I was like, ‘Flares? That’s fucking crazy,’  ” Styles remembers. Now he declares that “you can never be overdressed. There’s no such thing. The people that I looked up to in music—Prince and David Bowie and Elvis and Freddie Mercury and Elton John—they’re such showmen. As a kid it was completely mind-blowing. Now I’ll put on something that feels really flamboyant, and I don’t feel crazy wearing it. I think if you get something that you feel amazing in, it’s like a superhero outfit. Clothes are there to have fun with and experiment with and play with. What’s really exciting is that all of these lines are just kind of crumbling away. When you take away ‘There’s clothes for men and there’s clothes for women,’ once you remove any barriers, obviously you open up the arena in which you can play. I’ll go in shops sometimes, and I just find myself looking at the women’s clothes thinking they’re amazing. It’s like anything—anytime you’re putting barriers up in your own life, you’re just limiting yourself. There’s so much joy to be had in playing with clothes. I’ve never really thought too much about what it means—it just becomes this extended part of creating something.”

“He’s up for it,” confirms Lambert, who earlier this year, for instance, found a JW Anderson cardigan with the look of a Rubik’s Cube (“on sale at matches.com!”). Styles wore it, accessorized with his own pearl necklace, for a Today rehearsal in February and it went viral: His fans were soon knitting their own versions and posting the results on TikTok. Jonathan Anderson declared himself “so impressed and incredibly humbled by this trend” that he nimbly made the pattern available (complete with a YouTube tutorial) so that Styles’s fans could copy it for free. Meanwhile, London’s storied Victoria & Albert Museum has requested Styles’s original: an emblematic document of how people got creative during the COVID era. “It’s going to be in their permanent collection,” says Lambert exultantly. “Is that not sick? Is that not the most epic thing?”

“It’s pretty powerful and kind of extraordinary to see someone in his position redefining what it can mean to be a man with confidence,” says Olivia Wilde

“To me, he’s very modern,” says Wilde of Styles, “and I hope that this brand of confidence as a male that Harry has—truly devoid of any traces of toxic masculinity—is indicative of his generation and therefore the future of the world. I think he is in many ways championing that, spearheading that. It’s pretty powerful and kind of extraordinary to see someone in his position redefining what it can mean to be a man with confidence.”

“He’s really in touch with his feminine side because it’s something natural,” notes Michele. “And he’s a big inspiration to a younger generation—about how you can be in a totally free playground when you feel comfortable. I think that he’s a revolutionary.”

STYLES’S confidence is on full display the day after the fitting, which finds us all on the beautiful Sussex dales. Over the summit of the hill, with its trees blown horizontal by the fierce winds, lies the English Channel. Even though it’s a two-hour drive from London, the fresh-faced Styles, who went to bed at 9 p.m., has arrived on set early: He is famously early for everything. The team is installed in a traditional flint-stone barn. The giant doors have been replaced by glass and frame a bucolic view of distant grazing sheep. “Look at that field!” says Styles. “How lucky are we? This is our office! Smell the roses!” Lambert starts to sing “Kumbaya, my Lord.”

Hairdresser Malcolm Edwards is setting Styles’s hair in a Victory roll with silver clips, and until it is combed out he resembles Kathryn Grayson with stubble. His fingers are freighted with rings, and “he has a new army of mini purses,” says Lambert, gesturing to an accessory table heaving with examples including a mini sky-blue Gucci Diana bag discreetly monogrammed HS. Michele has also made Styles a dress for the shoot that Tissot might have liked to paint—acres of ice-blue ruffles, black Valenciennes lace, and suivez-moi, jeune homme ribbons. Erelong, Styles is gamely racing up a hill in it, dodging sheep scat, thistles, and shards of chalk, and striking a pose for Mitchell that manages to make ruffles a compelling new masculine proposition, just as Mr. Fish’s frothy white cotton dress—equal parts Romantic poet and Greek presidential guard—did for Mick Jagger when he wore it for The Rolling Stones’ free performance in Hyde Park in 1969, or as the suburban-mom floral housedress did for Kurt Cobain as he defined the iconoclastic grunge aesthetic. Styles is mischievously singing ABBA’s “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight)” to himself when Mitchell calls him outside to jump up and down on a trampoline in a Comme des Garçons buttoned wool kilt. “How did it look?” asks his sister when he comes in from the cold. “Divine,” says her brother in playful Lambert-speak.

As the wide sky is washed in pink, orange, and gray, like a Turner sunset, and Mitchell calls it a successful day, Styles is playing “Cherry” from Fine Line on his Fender acoustic on the hilltop. “He does his own stunts,” says his sister, laughing. The impromptu set is greeted with applause. “Thank you, Antwerp!” says Styles playfully, bowing to the crowd. “Thank you, fashion!”

[transparenttriumphzombie]

Harry Styles On Vogue

Source:

 https://www.vogue.com/article/harry-styles-cover-december-2020/amp?__twitter_impression=true

From Vogue MAGAZINE

Playtime With Harry Styles

THE MEN’S BATHING POND in London’s Hampstead Heath at daybreak on a gloomy September morning seemed such an unlikely locale for my first meeting with Harry Styles, music’s legendarily charm-heavy style czar, that I wondered perhaps if something had been lost in translation.

But then there is Styles, cheerily gung ho, hidden behind a festive yellow bandana mask and a sweatshirt of his own design, surprisingly printed with three portraits of his intellectual pinup, the author Alain de Botton. “I love his writing,” says Styles. “I just think he’s brilliant. I saw him give a talk about the keys to happiness, and how one of the keys is living among friends, and how real friendship stems from being vulnerable with someone.”

In turn, de Botton’s 2016 novel The Course of Love taught Styles that “when it comes to relationships, you just expect yourself to be good at it…[but] being in a real relationship with someone is a skill,” one that Styles himself has often had to hone in the unforgiving klieg light of public attention, and in the company of such high-profile paramours as Taylor Swift and—well, Styles is too much of a gentleman to name names.

That sweatshirt and the Columbia Records tracksuit bottoms are removed in the quaint wooden open-air changing room, with its Swallows and Amazons vibe. A handful of intrepid fellow patrons in various states of undress are blissfully unaware of the 26-year-old supernova in their midst, although I must admit I’m finding it rather difficult to take my eyes off him, try as I might. Styles has been on a six-day juice cleanse in readiness for Vogue’s photographer Tyler Mitchell. He practices Pilates (“I’ve got very tight hamstrings—trying to get those open”) and meditates twice a day. “It has changed my life,” he avers, “but it’s so subtle. It’s helped me just be more present. I feel like I’m able to enjoy the things that are happening right in front of me, even if it’s food or it’s coffee or it’s being with a friend—or a swim in a really cold pond!” Styles also feels that his meditation practices have helped him through the tumult of 2020: “Meditation just brings a stillness that has been really beneficial, I think, for my mental health.”

Styles has been a pescatarian for three years, inspired by the vegan food that several members of his current band prepared on tour. “My body definitely feels better for it,” he says. His shapely torso is prettily inscribed with the tattoos of a Victorian sailor—a rose, a galleon, a mermaid, an anchor, and a palm tree among them, and, straddling his clavicle, the dates 1967 and 1957 (the respective birth years of his mother and father). Frankly, I rather wish I’d packed a beach muumuu.

We take the piratical gangplank that juts into the water and dive in. Let me tell you, this is not the Aegean. The glacial water is a cloudy phlegm green beneath the surface, and clammy reeds slap one’s ankles. Styles, who admits he will try any fad, has recently had a couple of cryotherapy sessions and is evidently less susceptible to the cold. By the time we have swum a full circuit, however, body temperatures have adjusted, and the ice, you might say, has been broken. Duly invigorated, we are ready to face the day. Styles has thoughtfully brought a canister of coffee and some bottles of water in his backpack, and we sit at either end of a park bench for a socially distanced chat.

It seems that he has had a productive year. At the onset of lockdown, Styles found himself in his second home, in the canyons of Los Angeles. After a few days on his own, however, he moved in with a pod of three friends (and subsequently with two band members, Mitch Rowland and Sarah Jones). They “would put names in a hat and plan the week out,” Styles explains. “If you were Monday, you would choose the movie, dinner, and the activity for that day. I like to make soups, and there was a big array of movies; we went all over the board,” from Goodfellas to Clueless. The experience, says Styles, “has been a really good lesson in what makes me happy now. It’s such a good example of living in the moment. I honestly just like being around my friends,” he adds. “That’s been my biggest takeaway. Just being on my own the whole time, I would have been miserable.”

Styles is big on friendship groups and considers his former and legendarily hysteria-inducing boy band, One Direction, to have been one of them. “I think the typical thing is to come out of a band like that and almost feel like you have to apologize for being in it,” says Styles. “But I loved my time in it. It was all new to me, and I was trying to learn as much as I could. I wanted to soak it in…. I think that’s probably why I like traveling now—soaking stuff up.” In a post-COVID future, he is contemplating a temporary move to Tokyo, explaining that “there’s a respect and a stillness, a quietness that I really loved every time I’ve been there.”

In the music he has been working on in 2020, Styles wants to capture the experimental spirit that informed his second album, last year’s Fine Line. With his debut album, “I was very much finding out what my sound was as a solo artist,” he says. “I can see all the places where it almost felt like I was bowling with the bumpers up. I think with the second album I let go of the fear of getting it wrong and…it was really joyous and really free. I think with music it’s so important to evolve—and that extends to clothes and videos and all that stuff. That’s why you look back at David Bowie with Ziggy Stardust or the Beatles and their different eras—that fearlessness is super inspiring.”

The seismic changes of 2020—including the Black Lives Matter uprising around racial justice—has also provided Styles with an opportunity for personal growth. “I think it’s a time for opening up and learning and listening,” he says. “I’ve been trying to read and educate myself so that in 20 years I’m still doing the right things and taking the right steps. I believe in karma, and I think it’s just a time right now where we could use a little more kindness and empathy and patience with people, be a little more prepared to listen and grow.”

Meanwhile, Styles’s euphoric single “Watermelon Sugar” became something of an escapist anthem for this dystopian summer of 2020. The video, featuring Styles (dressed in ’70s-­flavored Gucci and Bode) cavorting with a pack of beach-babe girls and boys, was shot in January, before lockdown rules came into play. By the time it was ready to be released in May, a poignant epigraph had been added: “This video is dedicated to touching.”

Styles is looking forward to touring again, when “it’s safe for everyone,” because, as he notes, “being up against people is part of the whole thing. You can’t really re-create it in any way.” But it hasn’t always been so. Early in his career, Styles was so stricken with stage fright that he regularly threw up preperformance. “I just always thought I was going to mess up or something,” he remembers. “But I’ve felt really lucky to have a group of incredibly generous fans. They’re generous emotionally—and when they come to the show, they give so much that it creates this atmosphere that I’ve always found so loving and accepting.”

THIS SUMMER, when it was safe enough to travel, Styles returned to his London home, which is where he suggests we head now, setting off in his modish Primrose Yellow ’73 Jaguar that smells of gasoline and leatherette. “Me and my dad have always bonded over cars,” Styles explains. “I never thought I’d be someone who just went out for a leisurely drive, purely for enjoyment.” On sleepless jet-lagged nights he’ll drive through London’s quiet streets, seeing neighborhoods in a new way. “I find it quite relaxing,” he says.

Over the summer Styles took a road trip with his artist friend Tomo Campbell through France and Italy, setting off at four in the morning and spending the night in Geneva, where they jumped in the lake “to wake ourselves up.” (I see a pattern emerging.) At the end of the trip Styles drove home alone, accompanied by an upbeat playlist that included “Aretha Franklin, Parliament, and a lot of Stevie Wonder. It was really fun for me,” he says. “I don’t travel like that a lot. I’m usually in such a rush, but there was a stillness to it. I love the feeling of nobody knowing where I am, that kind of escape...and freedom.”

GROWING UP in a village in the North of England, Styles thought of London as a world apart: “It truly felt like a different country.” At a wide-eyed 16, he came down to the teeming metropolis after his mother entered him on the U.K. talent-search show The X Factor. “I went to the audition to find out if I could sing,” Styles recalls, “or if my mum was just being nice to me.” Styles was eliminated but subsequently brought back with other contestants—Niall Horan, Liam Payne, Louis Tomlinson, and Zayn Malik—to form a boy band that was named (on Styles’s suggestion) One Direction. The wily X Factor creator and judge, Simon Cowell, soon signed them to his label Syco Records, and the rest is history: 1D’s first four albums, supported by four world tours from 2011 to 2015, debuted at number one on the U.S. Billboard charts, and the band has sold 70 million records to date. At 18, Styles bought the London house he now calls home. “I was going to do two weeks’ work to it,” he remembers, “but when I came back there was no second floor,” so he moved in with adult friends who lived nearby till the renovation was complete. “Eighteen months,” he deadpans. “I’ve always seen that period as pretty pivotal for me, as there’s that moment at the party where it’s getting late, and half of the people would go upstairs to do drugs, and the other people go home. I was like, ‘I don’t really know this friend’s wife, so I’m not going to get all messy and then go home.’ I had to behave a bit, at a time where everything else about my life felt I didn’t have to behave really. I’ve been lucky to always feel I have this family unit somewhere.”

When Styles’s London renovation was finally done, “I went in for the first time and I cried,” he recalls. “Because I just felt like I had somewhere. L.A. feels like holiday, but this feels like home.”

“There’s so much joy to be had in playing with clothes. I’ve never thought too much about what it means—it just becomes this extended part of creating something”

Behind its pink door, Styles’s house has all the trappings of rock stardom—there’s a man cave filled with guitars, a Sex Pistols Never Mind the Bollocks poster (a moving-in gift from his decorator), a Stevie Nicks album cover. Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams” was one of the first songs he knew the words to—“My parents were big fans”—and he and Nicks have formed something of a mutual-admiration society. At the beginning of lockdown, Nicks tweeted to her fans that she was taking inspiration from Fine Line: “Way to go, H,” she wrote. “It is your Rumours.” “She’s always there for you,” said Styles when he inducted Nicks into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2019. “She knows what you need—advice, a little wisdom, a blouse, a shawl; she’s got you covered.”

Styles makes us some tea in the light-filled kitchen and then wanders into the convivial living room, where he strikes an insouciant pose on the chesterfield sofa, upholstered in a turquoise velvet that perhaps not entirely coincidentally sets off his eyes. Styles admits that his lockdown lewk was “sweatpants, constantly,” and he is relishing the opportunity to dress up again. He doesn’t have to wait long: The following day, under the eaves of a Victorian mansion in Notting Hill, I arrive in the middle of fittings for Vogue’s shoot and discover Styles in his Y-fronts, patiently waiting to try on looks for fashion editor Camilla Nickerson and photographer Tyler Mitchell. Styles’s personal stylist, Harry Lambert, wearing a pearl necklace and his nails colored in various shades of green varnish, à la Sally Bowles, is providing helpful backup (Britain’s Rule of Six hasn’t yet been imposed).

Styles, who has thoughtfully brought me a copy of de Botton’s 2006 book The Architecture of Happiness, is instinctively and almost quaintly polite, in an old-fashioned, holding-open-doors and not-mentioning-lovers-by-name sort of way. He is astounded to discover that the Atlanta-born Mitchell has yet to experience a traditional British Sunday roast dinner. Assuring him that “it’s basically like Thanksgiving every Sunday,” Styles gives Mitchell the details of his favorite London restaurants in which to enjoy one. “It’s a good thing to be nice,” Mitchell tells me after a morning in Styles’s company.

MITCHELL has Lionel Wendt’s languorously homoerotic 1930s portraits of young Sri Lankan men on his mood board. Nickerson is thinking of Irving Penn’s legendary fall 1950 Paris haute couture collections sitting, where he photographed midcentury supermodels, including his wife, Lisa Fonssagrives, in high-style Dior and Balenciaga creations. Styles is up for all of it, and so, it would seem, is the menswear landscape of 2020: Jonathan Anderson has produced a trapeze coat anchored with a chunky gold martingale; John Galliano at Maison Margiela has fashioned a khaki trench with a portrait neckline in layers of colored tulle; and Harris Reed—a Saint Martins fashion student sleuthed by Lambert who ended up making some looks for Styles’s last tour—has spent a week making a broad-shouldered Smoking jacket with high-waisted, wide-leg pants that have become a Styles signature since he posed for Tim Walker for the cover of Fine Line wearing a Gucci pair—a silhouette that was repeated in the tour wardrobe. (“I liked the idea of having that uniform,” says Styles.) Reed’s version is worn with a hoopskirt draped in festoons of hot-pink satin that somehow suggests Deborah Kerr asking Yul Brynner’s King of Siam, “Shall we dance?”

Styles introduces me to the writer and eyewear designer Gemma Styles, “my sister from the same womb,” he says. She is also here for the fitting: The siblings plan to surprise their mother with the double portrait on these pages.

I ask her whether her brother had always been interested in clothes.

“My mum loved to dress us up,” she remembers. “I always hated it, and Harry was always quite into it. She did some really elaborate papier-mâché outfits: She made a giant mug and then painted an atlas on it, and that was Harry being ‘The World Cup.’ Harry also had a little dalmatian-dog outfit,” she adds, “a hand-me-down from our closest family friends. He would just spend an inordinate amount of time wearing that outfit. But then Mum dressed me up as Cruella de Vil. She was always looking for any opportunity!”

“As a kid I definitely liked fancy dress,” Styles says. There were school plays, the first of which cast him as Barney, a church mouse. “I was really young, and I wore tights for that,” he recalls. “I remember it was crazy to me that I was wearing a pair of tights. And that was maybe where it all kicked off!”

Acting has also remained a fundamental form of expression for Styles. His sister recalls that even on the eve of his life-changing X Factor audition, Styles could sing in public only in an assumed voice. “He used to do quite a good sort of Elvis warble,” she remembers. During the rehearsals in the family home, “he would sing in the bathroom because if it was him singing as himself, he just couldn’t have anyone looking at him! I love his voice now,” she adds. “I’m so glad that he makes music that I actually enjoy listening to.”

Styles’s role-playing continued soon after 1D went on permanent hiatus in 2016, and he was cast in Christopher Nolan’s Dunkirk, beating out dozens of professional actors for the role. “The good part was my character was a young soldier who didn’t really know what he was doing,” says Styles modestly. “The scale of the movie was so big that I was a tiny piece of the puzzle. It was definitely humbling. I just loved being outside of my comfort zone.”

His performance caught the eye of Olivia Wilde, who remembers that it “blew me away—the openness and commitment.” In turn, Styles loved Wilde’s directorial debut, Booksmart, and is “very honored” that she cast him in a leading role for her second feature, a thriller titled Don’t Worry Darling, which went into production this fall. Styles will play the husband to Florence Pugh in what Styles describes as “a 1950s utopia in the California desert.”

Wilde’s movie is costumed by Academy Award nominee Arianne Phillips. “She and I did a little victory dance when we heard that we officially had Harry in the film,” notes Wilde, “because we knew that he has a real appreciation for fashion and style. And this movie is incredibly stylistic. It’s very heightened and opulent, and I’m really grateful that he is so enthusiastic about that element of the process—some actors just don’t care.”

“I like playing dress-up in general,” Styles concurs, in a masterpiece of understatement: This is the man, after all, who cohosted the Met’s 2019 “Notes on Camp” gala attired in a nipple-freeing black organza blouse with a lace jabot, and pants so high-waisted that they cupped his pectorals. The ensemble, accessorized with the pearl-drop earring of a dandified Elizabethan courtier, was created for Styles by Gucci’s Alessandro Michele, whom he befriended in 2014. Styles, who has subsequently personified the brand as the face of the Gucci fragrance, finds Michele “fearless with his work and his imagination. It’s really inspiring to be around someone who works like that.”

The two first met in London over a cappuccino. “It was just a kind of PR appointment,” says Michele, “but something magical happened, and Harry is now a friend. He has the aura of an English rock-and-roll star—like a young Greek god with the attitude of James Dean and a little bit of Mick Jagger—but no one is sweeter. He is the image of a new era, of the way that a man can look.”

Styles credits his style trans­formation—from Jack Wills tracksuit-clad boy-band heartthrob to nonpareil fashionisto—to his meeting the droll young stylist Harry Lambert seven years ago. They hit it off at once and have conspired ever since, enjoying a playfully campy rapport and calling each other Sue and Susan as they parse the niceties of the scarlet lace Gucci man-bra that Michele has made for Vogue’s shoot, for instance, or a pair of Bode pants hand-painted with biographical images (Styles sent Emily Adams Bode images of his family, and a photograph he had found of David Hockney and Joni Mitchell. “The idea of those two being friends, to me, was really beautiful,” Styles explains).

“He just has fun with clothing, and that’s kind of where I’ve got it from,” says Styles of Lambert. “He doesn’t take it too seriously, which means I don’t take it too seriously.” The process has been evolutionary. At his first meeting with Lambert, the stylist proposed “a pair of flares, and I was like, ‘Flares? That’s fucking crazy,’  ” Styles remembers. Now he declares that “you can never be overdressed. There’s no such thing. The people that I looked up to in music—Prince and David Bowie and Elvis and Freddie Mercury and Elton John—they’re such showmen. As a kid it was completely mind-blowing. Now I’ll put on something that feels really flamboyant, and I don’t feel crazy wearing it. I think if you get something that you feel amazing in, it’s like a superhero outfit. Clothes are there to have fun with and experiment with and play with. What’s really exciting is that all of these lines are just kind of crumbling away. When you take away ‘There’s clothes for men and there’s clothes for women,’ once you remove any barriers, obviously you open up the arena in which you can play. I’ll go in shops sometimes, and I just find myself looking at the women’s clothes thinking they’re amazing. It’s like anything—anytime you’re putting barriers up in your own life, you’re just limiting yourself. There’s so much joy to be had in playing with clothes. I’ve never really thought too much about what it means—it just becomes this extended part of creating something.”

“He’s up for it,” confirms Lambert, who earlier this year, for instance, found a JW Anderson cardigan with the look of a Rubik’s Cube (“on sale at matchesfashion.com!”). Styles wore it, accessorized with his own pearl necklace, for a Today rehearsal in February and it went viral: His fans were soon knitting their own versions and posting the results on TikTok. Jonathan Anderson declared himself “so impressed and incredibly humbled by this trend” that he nimbly made the pattern available (complete with a YouTube tutorial) so that Styles’s fans could copy it for free. Meanwhile, London’s storied Victoria & Albert Museum has requested Styles’s original: an emblematic document of how people got creative during the COVID era. “It’s going to be in their permanent collection,” says Lambert exultantly. “Is that not sick? Is that not the most epic thing?”

“It’s pretty powerful and kind of extraordinary to see someone in his position redefining what it can mean to be a man with confidence,” says Olivia Wilde

“To me, he’s very modern,” says Wilde of Styles, “and I hope that this brand of confidence as a male that Harry has—truly devoid of any traces of toxic masculinity—is indicative of his generation and therefore the future of the world. I think he is in many ways championing that, spearheading that. It’s pretty powerful and kind of extraordinary to see someone in his position redefining what it can mean to be a man with confidence.”

“He’s really in touch with his feminine side because it’s something natural,” notes Michele. “And he’s a big inspiration to a younger generation—about how you can be in a totally free playground when you feel comfortable. I think that he’s a revolutionary.”

STYLES’S confidence is on full display the day after the fitting, which finds us all on the beautiful Sussex dales. Over the summit of the hill, with its trees blown horizontal by the fierce winds, lies the English Channel. Even though it’s a two-hour drive from London, the fresh-faced Styles, who went to bed at 9 p.m., has arrived on set early: He is famously early for everything. The team is installed in a traditional flint-stone barn. The giant doors have been replaced by glass and frame a bucolic view of distant grazing sheep. “Look at that field!” says Styles. “How lucky are we? This is our office! Smell the roses!” Lambert starts to sing “Kumbaya, my Lord.”

Hairdresser Malcolm Edwards is setting Styles’s hair in a Victory roll with silver clips, and until it is combed out he resembles Kathryn Grayson with stubble. His fingers are freighted with rings, and “he has a new army of mini purses,” says Lambert, gesturing to an accessory table heaving with examples including a mini sky-blue Gucci Jackie bag discreetly monogrammed HS. Michele has also made Styles a dress for the shoot that Tissot might have liked to paint—acres of ice-blue ruffles, black Valenciennes lace, and suivez-moi, jeune homme ribbons. Erelong, Styles is gamely racing up a hill in it, dodging sheep scat, thistles, and shards of chalk, and striking a pose for Mitchell that manages to make ruffles a compelling new masculine proposition, just as Mr. Fish’s frothy white cotton dress—equal parts Romantic poet and Greek presidential guard—did for Mick Jagger when he wore it for The Rolling Stones’ free performance in Hyde Park in 1969, or as the suburban-mom floral housedress did for Kurt Cobain as he defined the iconoclastic grunge aesthetic. Styles is mischievously singing ABBA’s “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight)” to himself when Mitchell calls him outside to jump up and down on a trampoline in a Comme des Garçons buttoned wool kilt. “How did it look?” asks his sister when he comes in from the cold. “Divine,” says her brother in playful Lambert-speak.

As the wide sky is washed in pink, orange, and gray, like a Turner sunset, and Mitchell calls it a successful day, Styles is playing “Cherry” from Fine Line on his Fender acoustic on the hilltop. “He does his own stunts,” says his sister, laughing. The impromptu set is greeted with applause. “Thank you, Antwerp!” says Styles playfully, bowing to the crowd. “Thank you, fashion!”

[shadowslackinglight]

#2 - The Interview

This is Victoria Winters. Friends and family had warned me prior to my fateful interview with the Collins family that they had a reputation of being eccentric. Of course, with the excitement of the opportunity coursing through my veins, I dismissed the concerns out of hand. I quickly came to realize, however, that this particular family was shrouded in dark secrets and motives. No person residing at the Collinwood Estate was without an internal struggle hiding just under the surface.

From the diary of Victoria Winters.

Vicky winters stood slightly damp from the rain in the foyer of the new Collinwood Estate. Although citizens of Collinsport referred to the current residence of the family as the “new” house, it was hardly a modern construction. The house was originally built during the Spring and Summer of 1860, just over two hundred years after the original house was built. It appeared to Vicky, who had a keen eye for these things, that much of the furniture in the modest-sized entryway was originally from the Victorian era. The floors were made of finely-preserved wood, part of which was covered in a large rug. The walls were covered in a dark red wallpaper with black flowers. Directly in front of Vicky was an elaborate wooden staircase, complete with a polished banister. To her left was a large set of double doors leading into another room. The wall opposite those doors held two more doors leading to other rooms. Between them hung a large oil painting of a tall, pale man with dark, black hair. The man was donned in what Vicky believed to be the traditional wardrobe of a gentleman from the seventeenth or early eighteenth century. 

“Miss Winters,” said an elderly man who had descended from the second floor of the home when  Vicky entered the house, “Ms. Stoddard-Collins will be with you shortly. Would you care for something to drink?”

Vicky looked at the man, attempting to make eye contact and convey a confidence that she did not feel in her heart.  The man’s face was gaunt and because the room was dimly lit, partially covered in shadow. What she could see of him did not appear to be in great health.

“No thank you, Mr...” came Vicky’s response in a semi-whisper. 

“Sorry,” he said to her, “How rude of me not to introduce myself. I’m Roger Collins, Elizabeth’s brother.”

The man motioned to his right where the large double doors stood. Vicky followed him to the doors and entered once he opened them.

“Who is that man in the picture?” she asked him, motioning to the picture on the wall.

“Oh, that old thing?” Roger replied, “He’s a distant relative. When this house was built, all of the art was taken from the original and put into storage here on the estate. Elizabeth has always loved all of the portraits, ever since she was a child. When she took over the house after our parents’ deaths, she wanted to add them all to this house. Unfortunately, the shed they were in allowed a bit too much of the weather to intrude. All of the artwork was destroyed except that one. Peculiar, really.”

“Peculiar, indeed,” Vicky said.

“Please, Ms. Winters, have a seat anywhere in this room. I will summon my sister, presently.” Roger left the room, closing the double doors behind him.

Vicky stood in the massive drawing room and took it in. The room was dimly lit by a fancy chandelier dangling from the center of the ceiling and several lamps placed at small tables arranged strategically around the room. The effect cast interesting shadows in every corner. The floor was wooden, polished extravagantly. There were a couple of old, green, leather couches and chairs in the room as well as a large piano. Each of these items stood atop very old, expensive-looking rugs. The walls were also made of wood paneling with various pieces of art hanging from them. On the wall directly across from the entrance to the room was a very large, elaborate fireplace that was outlined with a decorative, wooden hearth. The aesthetic of this room appeared to be untouched from the time in which the house was built. Vicky was sure the furniture was new, but it was clearly ordered custom to match the style of the rest of the house. The wall pointing to the outside of the house held a massive window. The storm was really picking up, now. Lightning and thunder struck again, illuminating the whole room for a moment before subsiding. 

Vicky chose one of the leather couches facing a small table with a matching chair directly across from it. Perfect for an interview, she thought. After a few minutes that crawled on like hours to Vicky, Ms. Collins Stoddard finally entered the room. 

“Apologies for the wait,” she said in a monotonous voice, “There was a bit of family business to address that ran longer than I had hoped. 

Vicky stood, turning to face the woman, “No problem, at all,” she replied, offering her hand to the matriarch.

Ms. Collins Stoddard walked to the chair opposite her and sat. Vicky wasn’t sure if she had seen her hand or had simply ignored it. Vicky sat back down on the couch, making sure her posture was perfect.

Looking at Ms. Collins Stoddard, Vicky could tell the woman was trying to put forth an air of superiority, but she wasn’t quite pulling it off. Her dark, brown hair, while put up in a bun, had a few strands that indicated it was done in haste. Her midnight blue dress was just slightly disheveled, and her green eyes looked weary. She looked stressed. Vicky was not surprised. The public relations nightmare that was this project had to have been taking its toll on Ms. Collins Stoddard. Daily protests and weekly articles about what Vicky assumed had to be a very difficult decision couldn’t have helped the situation, either. Vicky felt a bit sorry for the woman, but that empathy would quickly disappear as the interview started.

Ms. Collins Stoddard began leafing through the copy of Vicky’s profile that Vicky had mailed ahead of her visit. The woman’s face displayed no emotion as she did. Finally, after taking a look at every sheet of paper in the folder while Vicky waited in silence, Ms. Collins Stoddard finally made eye contact with her and spoke.

“Apologies for not being fully prepared,” she began, “Normally, I would look over your dossier in advance of our meeting, but to be completely honest, I did not fully expect you to come for this interview.”

“Pardon me?” Vicky stammered.

Ms. Collins Stoddard gave the slightest smirk, “Well, it’s just that you must’ve known that you are only getting this interview as a favor to a member of the family. A project like this takes experience and know-how. I don’t believe you to have either of those things. It’s a big responsibility that cannot fail.”

“I see,” was all Vicky could manage to say. Again, thunder cracked loudly outside. Vicky jumped at the sound. Her interviewer did not.

“But, here you are, aren’t you, girl? You should know that yesterday, alone, I interviewed three world-renowned architects itching to get their paws on that house,” Ms. Collins Stoddard continued, “However, I did promise to conduct this interview, and your work does look quite impressive for someone so...young. Therefore, in order to fulfill my familial obligation, I will give you five minutes to tell me why I should even remember that I met you. Why do you think you can do this project? What, if any vision do you have for my ancestral home?” she paused, “If nothing else, consider this a practice for your next interview at some low-rate firm in New York that has time to waste showing you the ropes of being a professional architect.”

Vicky looked down to her hands in her lap for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. If nothing else, she considered, at least the Collins family matriarch was honest. Vicky, however, considered herself to be an overachiever. She was not going to give up and let this opportunity pass her by. In truth, this project was the only thing, at this moment, that she wanted. 

She took a deep breath and looked up. Her eyes met Ms. Collins Stoddard’s. She tried to show determination and grit, but there was no visible response from the person across from her to indicate whether or not she had succeeded. “Very well,” Vicky said calmly, and then she dove in.

For the next five minutes, exactly, Vicky outlined everything she had gathered during her time researching the estate and during her time today in Collinsport. She spoke intently about her initial ideas and plans for a remodel of the original Collinwood house that would turn it into a bustling hotel and tourist attraction while maintaining what made it appealing in the first place: its history. She did not pause. She did not invite Ms. Collins Stoddard to interject. This was her five minutes, and she used every single second of it. She left nothing out because if she had, she knew she would regret it for the rest of her life. She may have been gifted this opportunity, but she was going to make the most of it.

The moment the five minutes ended, the double doors to the drawing-room opened with a creak, and Roger Collins walked through them. Ms. Collins Stoddard tore a scrap of paper off of the corner of Vicky’s resume, wrote something on it, closed the portfolio, and thanked Vicky for her time. She then stood up abruptly and exited the room, handing the scrap of paper to Roger as she walked past him.

Vicky felt tears welling up in her eyes. She had given it everything she had and, apparently, it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough for the job, and it wasn’t even enough for a response. She stood quickly, eager to leave the house before her emotions got the better of her. If she got to the station soon, she thought she might be able to catch the last train out of town, and if not, she would stay at a local hotel. There was no way she was going to stay the night in this house after that interview. The embarrassment would be too much.

As she began to make her way out of the drawing-room, she passed Roger who was looking at the scrap of paper in his hand. Her presence near his person startled him to attention, and he turned to her, “Where are you going, Ms. Winters?” he asked.

She turned on her heels and looked at him, exasperated. “I’m going to try to catch a train back,” she replied.

“That won’t be necessary,” Roger told her.

“Mr. Collins, I appreciate the opportunity and your family’s hospitality, but...”

Roger stuck the note out to her, “Here,” he said.

She hesitated, confused, then took the piece of paper and read it for herself. There was a dollar sign on it, followed by a number. A large number. A number that was at least twice as big as any she’d expect to get at a firm. 

“What is this?” she asked.

“Your salary,” Roger replied, “I know it’s a tad low, compared to what you may have expected, but we will be providing you room and board here at Collinwood, which will significantly cut your costs. I’m afraid, however, that the offer is non-negotiable.”

Vicky looked down at the number written by Ms. Collins Stoddard’s hand, again. After a moment, determined to keep a professional face, she looked up and replied as calmly as she could, “Mr. Collins, I believe this will suffice.”

“Excellent!” he said, “You begin tomorrow. Planning for this project must be underway at once!”

“But my things,” Vicky stated, “I’ve only brought enough for one night. I need time to gather my belongings to move.”

Roger looked at her incredulously, “Nonsense. Provide me with a list of your personal belongings, your address, and a key, and I will have someone fetch them for you. If you have them at breakfast, we should have the job done by tomorrow evening.”

Thunder and lightning crashed once more, but this time when the bright flash retreated from the room, all of the lamps and the chandelier had gone out. The two were standing in complete darkness.

“Drats,” Roger said.

To be continued...

[hybridartifacts]

AI Face Generation While I am still experimenting with AI image generation and how I might be able to make use of it in my art (without sacrificing my own style) I have also been looking at face generators. Face generators are something that I can use right away very easily in my art. I often put people in my art so these can be a handy alternative to using bits of photographs of people. I actually manage really well with blending tiny bits of photographs so what I have mostly been using this for is getting bits like jaw lines and ears to use, though they can also be a great source of skin textures.

The more general AIs like Mid Journey struggle with creating faces and the free ones like Wombo Dream and Crayion just make a horrible mess with or do not render at all. There are a couple of dedicated face generators that I have been experimenting with for a year or two that work very well, so I will be comparing them here. The first is This Person Does Not Exist. It is quick and easy to use and free. Most of the time it does a really good job, but occasionally it gets a bit wonky (it struggles with thin glasses a lot, often only rendering half and hats can get really bizarre). Every now and again it creates nightmare faces around the main one. Use it enough and you will see what I mean. Here are a few faces generated by it:

Pretty good results - and very handy for people who want a character portrait for a tabletop roleplaying game with a modern setting. Which makes me wonder if anyone will ever make one that does different historical time periods? I suspect it needs a lot of quality images to work from though, which will be lacking for most historical periods. It may be possible to have a database for training an AI using Victorian and later photographs though and Victorian ones may even be ideal because the poses tend to be full face and kinda stiff. Creating three quarter faces seems to result in things like oddly angled eyes, and this face generator avoids profiles. The second is Face Generator which does have subscription plans but can do a good job in the free version if you just want to play around with it. The big advantage of this one is that you can control the parameters of the face before generating one - choosing gender, age, skin and hair colour. You can even control the face angle a bit and choose an expression. While This Person Does Not Exist can create a mix of ages, genders and races it does it randomly and mostly creates Caucasian adults. If you want Black or Asian faces it falls into that unfortunate category of AIs that reflect the racial biases of western culture as a whole. Face Generator makes a very welcome change. It does mean it is slower to use as you have to set up the parameters, and the images are smaller if you use the free downloads.

For versatility Face Generator wins hands down, but I actually prefer the overall results from This Person Does Not Exist which feel more natural to me. These are a couple of great sites though and have obvious uses right now as they are.

[631janella]

Portrait Photographers No.1

Julia Margaret Cameron

Julia Margaret Cameron was a true trailblazer of portrait photography. Not only was she a woman thriving in a man’s world, but she also developed her own style of portrait photography. Her style wasn’t appreciated in her own time, and many criticized her work. But over the years, her portraits have been praised for their genuine intimacy. Her portrait photos are softly focused with a natural feel. They were at odds with the stale and static portraits of the Victorian era.

I really enjoy this almost casual photo-taking look she has. Both these images seem more interested in the emotion of the subject than anything else. Her use of lighting in the left photo is quite interesting. I love how one side is in the shadows and the other side of his face is basked in light. I feel like it highlights the look of possible sadness(?) or distraughtness(?) the man has on his face. On the right, I think it's interesting that the subject's face is illuminated but his eyes are looking downward. Almost like he is not willing to show everything (as eyes are the window into the soul).

Nirav Patel

Nirav Patel is a fine art photographer based in San Francisco. Portraits play a huge part in her dramatic photography, as she explores human emotion. Patel’s portraits have a cinematic tone. Each shot is meticulously constructed to evoke emotion. Patel uses natural and soft lighting to create deeply atmospheric images. The colour palette is rich and dark. But the photos buzz with energy.

I love the use of lighting to add drama and interest to the images. I love how it highlights certain parts of the subject. For example, on the left, the eye is highlighted showing off the difference light can make to the look of someone's eye colour.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Raymond Depardon (@rdepardon)

Raymond Depardon

Depardon is a photographer that has been around for a long time and continues to take photographs today. Something that I've noticed in his portraits is that he is able to capture personality. For example, if we were to cut the picture in half and only look at the left side of the photo, it would just be a side profile of any man but when you look at the whole image, it depicts someone who could be described as little cheeky vis-à-vis his facial expression in the mirror.

It inspires me to also take the time to capture the personality or someone's essence in my portraits. Something as simple as a facial expression can create a backstory and allow an audience to possibly relate to the person or remind them of someone in their own lives.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Philippe Halsman (@philippe_halsman_official)

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Philippe Halsman (@philippe_halsman_official)

Philippe Halsman

Halsman is known for his portraits of the rich and famous but his closest confidante was most definitely Salvador Dali. His images range from serious portraits to almost journalistic depictions of his subjects.

I love how he gets so experimental with his images and it's something that I want to explore myself. The close-up photo of Dali also inspires me to not be afraid of getting up close and personal as those details are interesting to see and can reveal a lot of who someone is. The second image is just pure fun and I think it would be such a blast having a photoshoot that could even remotely look like this. It inspires me to look beyond a persons face to capture who they are. This photo tells us so much of who Dali is through the composition and the props used.

[dreamings-free]

By Hamish Bowles November 13, 2020

THE MEN’S BATHING POND in London’s Hampstead Heath at daybreak on a gloomy September morning seemed such an unlikely locale for my first meeting with Harry Styles, music’s legendarily charm-heavy style czar, that I wondered perhaps if something had been lost in translation.

But then there is Styles, cheerily gung ho, hidden behind a festive yellow bandana mask and a sweatshirt of his own design, surprisingly printed with three portraits of his intellectual pinup, the author Alain de Botton. “I love his writing,” says Styles. “I just think he’s brilliant. I saw him give a talk about the keys to happiness, and how one of the keys is living among friends, and how real friendship stems from being vulnerable with someone.”

In turn, de Botton’s 2016 novel The Course of Love taught Styles that “when it comes to relationships, you just expect yourself to be good at it…[but] being in a real relationship with someone is a skill,” one that Styles himself has often had to hone in the unforgiving klieg light of public attention, and in the company of such high-profile paramours as Taylor Swift and—well, Styles is too much of a gentleman to name names.

That sweatshirt and the Columbia Records tracksuit bottoms are removed in the quaint wooden open-air changing room, with its Swallows and Amazons vibe. A handful of intrepid fellow patrons in various states of undress are blissfully unaware of the 26-year-old supernova in their midst, although I must admit I’m finding it rather difficult to take my eyes off him, try as I might. Styles has been on a six-day juice cleanse in readiness for Vogue’s photographer Tyler Mitchell. He practices Pilates (“I’ve got very tight hamstrings—trying to get those open”) and meditates twice a day. “It has changed my life,” he avers, “but it’s so subtle. It’s helped me just be more present. I feel like I’m able to enjoy the things that are happening right in front of me, even if it’s food or it’s coffee or it’s being with a friend—or a swim in a really cold pond!” Styles also feels that his meditation practices have helped him through the tumult of 2020: “Meditation just brings a stillness that has been really beneficial, I think, for my mental health.”

Styles has been a pescatarian for three years, inspired by the vegan food that several members of his current band prepared on tour. “My body definitely feels better for it,” he says. His shapely torso is prettily inscribed with the tattoos of a Victorian sailor—a rose, a galleon, a mermaid, an anchor, and a palm tree among them, and, straddling his clavicle, the dates 1967 and 1957 (the respective birth years of his mother and father). Frankly, I rather wish I’d packed a beach muumuu.

We take the piratical gangplank that juts into the water and dive in. Let me tell you, this is not the Aegean. The glacial water is a cloudy phlegm green beneath the surface, and clammy reeds slap one’s ankles. Styles, who admits he will try any fad, has recently had a couple of cryotherapy sessions and is evidently less susceptible to the cold. By the time we have swum a full circuit, however, body temperatures have adjusted, and the ice, you might say, has been broken. Duly invigorated, we are ready to face the day. Styles has thoughtfully brought a canister of coffee and some bottles of water in his backpack, and we sit at either end of a park bench for a socially distanced chat.

It seems that he has had a productive year. At the onset of lockdown, Styles found himself in his second home, in the canyons of Los Angeles. After a few days on his own, however, he moved in with a pod of three friends (and subsequently with two band members, Mitch Rowland and Sarah Jones). They “would put names in a hat and plan the week out,” Styles explains. “If you were Monday, you would choose the movie, dinner, and the activity for that day. I like to make soups, and there was a big array of movies; we went all over the board,” from Goodfellas to Clueless. The experience, says Styles, “has been a really good lesson in what makes me happy now. It’s such a good example of living in the moment. I honestly just like being around my friends,” he adds. “That’s been my biggest takeaway. Just being on my own the whole time, I would have been miserable.”

Styles is big on friendship groups and considers his former and legendarily hysteria-inducing boy band, One Direction, to have been one of them. “I think the typical thing is to come out of a band like that and almost feel like you have to apologize for being in it,” says Styles. “But I loved my time in it. It was all new to me, and I was trying to learn as much as I could. I wanted to soak it in…. I think that’s probably why I like traveling now—soaking stuff up.” In a post-COVID future, he is contemplating a temporary move to Tokyo, explaining that “there’s a respect and a stillness, a quietness that I really loved every time I’ve been there.”

In 1D, Styles was making music whenever he could. “After a show you’d go in a hotel room and put down some vocals,” he recalls. As a result, his first solo album, 2017’s Harry Styles, “was when I really fell in love with being in the studio,” he says. “I loved it as much as touring.” Today he favors isolating with his core group of collaborators, “our little bubble”—Rowland, Kid Harpoon (né Tom Hull), and Tyler Johnson. “A safe space,” as he describes it.

In the music he has been working on in 2020, Styles wants to capture the experimental spirit that informed his second album, last year’s Fine Line. With his debut album, “I was very much finding out what my sound was as a solo artist,” he says. “I can see all the places where it almost felt like I was bowling with the bumpers up. I think with the second album I let go of the fear of getting it wrong and…it was really joyous and really free. I think with music it’s so important to evolve—and that extends to clothes and videos and all that stuff. That’s why you look back at David Bowie with Ziggy Stardust or the Beatles and their different eras—that fearlessness is super inspiring.”

The seismic changes of 2020—including the Black Lives Matter uprising around racial justice—has also provided Styles with an opportunity for personal growth. “I think it’s a time for opening up and learning and listening,” he says. “I’ve been trying to read and educate myself so that in 20 years I’m still doing the right things and taking the right steps. I believe in karma, and I think it’s just a time right now where we could use a little more kindness and empathy and patience with people, be a little more prepared to listen and grow.”

Meanwhile, Styles’s euphoric single “Watermelon Sugar” became something of an escapist anthem for this dystopian summer of 2020. The video, featuring Styles (dressed in ’70s-­flavored Gucci and Bode) cavorting with a pack of beach-babe girls and boys, was shot in January, before lockdown rules came into play. By the time it was ready to be released in May, a poignant epigraph had been added: “This video is dedicated to touching.”

Styles is looking forward to touring again, when “it’s safe for everyone,” because, as he notes, “being up against people is part of the whole thing. You can’t really re-create it in any way.” But it hasn’t always been so. Early in his career, Styles was so stricken with stage fright that he regularly threw up preperformance. “I just always thought I was going to mess up or something,” he remembers. “But I’ve felt really lucky to have a group of incredibly generous fans. They’re generous emotionally—and when they come to the show, they give so much that it creates this atmosphere that I’ve always found so loving and accepting.”

THIS SUMMER, when it was safe enough to travel, Styles returned to his London home, which is where he suggests we head now, setting off in his modish Primrose Yellow ’73 Jaguar that smells of gasoline and leatherette. “Me and my dad have always bonded over cars,” Styles explains. “I never thought I’d be someone who just went out for a leisurely drive, purely for enjoyment.” On sleepless jet-lagged nights he’ll drive through London’s quiet streets, seeing neighborhoods in a new way. “I find it quite relaxing,” he says.

Over the summer Styles took a road trip with his artist friend Tomo Campbell through France and Italy, setting off at four in the morning and spending the night in Geneva, where they jumped in the lake “to wake ourselves up.” (I see a pattern emerging.) At the end of the trip Styles drove home alone, accompanied by an upbeat playlist that included “Aretha Franklin, Parliament, and a lot of Stevie Wonder. It was really fun for me,” he says. “I don’t travel like that a lot. I’m usually in such a rush, but there was a stillness to it. I love the feeling of nobody knowing where I am, that kind of escape...and freedom.”

GROWING UP in a village in the North of England, Styles thought of London as a world apart: “It truly felt like a different country.” At a wide-eyed 16, he came down to the teeming metropolis after his mother entered him on the U.K. talent-search show The X Factor. “I went to the audition to find out if I could sing,” Styles recalls, “or if my mum was just being nice to me.” Styles was eliminated but subsequently brought back with other contestants—Niall Horan, Liam Payne, Louis Tomlinson, and Zayn Malik—to form a boy band that was named (on Styles’s suggestion) One Direction. The wily X Factor creator and judge, Simon Cowell, soon signed them to his label Syco Records, and the rest is history: 1D’s first four albums, supported by four world tours from 2011 to 2015, debuted at number one on the U.S. Billboard charts, and the band has sold 70 million records to date. At 18, Styles bought the London house he now calls home. “I was going to do two weeks’ work to it,” he remembers, “but when I came back there was no second floor,” so he moved in with adult friends who lived nearby till the renovation was complete. “Eighteen months,” he deadpans. “I’ve always seen that period as pretty pivotal for me, as there’s that moment at the party where it’s getting late, and half of the people would go upstairs to do drugs, and the other people go home. I was like, ‘I don’t really know this friend’s wife, so I’m not going to get all messy and then go home.’ I had to behave a bit, at a time where everything else about my life felt I didn’t have to behave really. I’ve been lucky to always feel I have this family unit somewhere.”

When Styles’s London renovation was finally done, “I went in for the first time and I cried,” he recalls. “Because I just felt like I had somewhere. L.A. feels like holiday, but this feels like home.”

“There’s so much joy to be had in playing with clothes. I’ve never thought too much about what it means—it just becomes this extended part of creating something”

Behind its pink door, Styles’s house has all the trappings of rock stardom—there’s a man cave filled with guitars, a Sex Pistols Never Mind the Bollocks poster (a moving-in gift from his decorator), a Stevie Nicks album cover. Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams” was one of the first songs he knew the words to—“My parents were big fans”—and he and Nicks have formed something of a mutual-admiration society. At the beginning of lockdown, Nicks tweeted to her fans that she was taking inspiration from Fine Line: “Way to go, H,” she wrote. “It is your Rumours.” “She’s always there for you,” said Styles when he inducted Nicks into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2019. “She knows what you need—advice, a little wisdom, a blouse, a shawl; she’s got you covered.”

Styles makes us some tea in the light-filled kitchen and then wanders into the convivial living room, where he strikes an insouciant pose on the chesterfield sofa, upholstered in a turquoise velvet that perhaps not entirely coincidentally sets off his eyes. Styles admits that his lockdown lewk was “sweatpants, constantly,” and he is relishing the opportunity to dress up again. He doesn’t have to wait long: The following day, under the eaves of a Victorian mansion in Notting Hill, I arrive in the middle of fittings for Vogue’s shoot and discover Styles in his Y-fronts, patiently waiting to try on looks for fashion editor Camilla Nickerson and photographer Tyler Mitchell. Styles’s personal stylist, Harry Lambert, wearing a pearl necklace and his nails colored in various shades of green varnish, à la Sally Bowles, is providing helpful backup (Britain’s Rule of Six hasn’t yet been imposed).

Styles, who has thoughtfully brought me a copy of de Botton’s 2006 book The Architecture of Happiness, is instinctively and almost quaintly polite, in an old-fashioned, holding-open-doors and not-mentioning-lovers-by-name sort of way. He is astounded to discover that the Atlanta-born Mitchell has yet to experience a traditional British Sunday roast dinner. Assuring him that “it’s basically like Thanksgiving every Sunday,” Styles gives Mitchell the details of his favorite London restaurants in which to enjoy one. “It’s a good thing to be nice,” Mitchell tells me after a morning in Styles’s company.

MITCHELL has Lionel Wendt’s languorously homoerotic 1930s portraits of young Sri Lankan men on his mood board. Nickerson is thinking of Irving Penn’s legendary fall 1950 Paris haute couture collections sitting, where he photographed midcentury supermodels, including his wife, Lisa Fonssagrives, in high-style Dior and Balenciaga creations. Styles is up for all of it, and so, it would seem, is the menswear landscape of 2020: Jonathan Anderson has produced a trapeze coat anchored with a chunky gold martingale; John Galliano at Maison Margiela has fashioned a khaki trench with a portrait neckline in layers of colored tulle; and Harris Reed—a Saint Martins fashion student sleuthed by Lambert who ended up making some looks for Styles’s last tour—has spent a week making a broad-shouldered Smoking jacket with high-waisted, wide-leg pants that have become a Styles signature since he posed for Tim Walker for the cover of Fine Line wearing a Gucci pair—a silhouette that was repeated in the tour wardrobe. (“I liked the idea of having that uniform,” says Styles.) Reed’s version is worn with a hoopskirt draped in festoons of hot-pink satin that somehow suggests Deborah Kerr asking Yul Brynner’s King of Siam, “Shall we dance?”

Styles introduces me to the writer and eyewear designer Gemma Styles, “my sister from the same womb,” he says. She is also here for the fitting: The siblings plan to surprise their mother with the double portrait on these pages.

I ask her whether her brother had always been interested in clothes.

“My mum loved to dress us up,” she remembers. “I always hated it, and Harry was always quite into it. She did some really elaborate papier-mâché outfits: She made a giant mug and then painted an atlas on it, and that was Harry being ‘The World Cup.’ Harry also had a little dalmatian-dog outfit,” she adds, “a hand-me-down from our closest family friends. He would just spend an inordinate amount of time wearing that outfit. But then Mum dressed me up as Cruella de Vil. She was always looking for any opportunity!”

“As a kid I definitely liked fancy dress,” Styles says. There were school plays, the first of which cast him as Barney, a church mouse. “I was really young, and I wore tights for that,” he recalls. “I remember it was crazy to me that I was wearing a pair of tights. And that was maybe where it all kicked off!”

Acting has also remained a fundamental form of expression for Styles. His sister recalls that even on the eve of his life-changing X Factor audition, Styles could sing in public only in an assumed voice. “He used to do quite a good sort of Elvis warble,” she remembers. During the rehearsals in the family home, “he would sing in the bathroom because if it was him singing as himself, he just couldn’t have anyone looking at him! I love his voice now,” she adds. “I’m so glad that he makes music that I actually enjoy listening to.”

Styles’s role-playing continued soon after 1D went on permanent hiatus in 2016, and he was cast in Christopher Nolan’s Dunkirk, beating out dozens of professional actors for the role. “The good part was my character was a young soldier who didn’t really know what he was doing,” says Styles modestly. “The scale of the movie was so big that I was a tiny piece of the puzzle. It was definitely humbling. I just loved being outside of my comfort zone.”

His performance caught the eye of Olivia Wilde, who remembers that it “blew me away—the openness and commitment.” In turn, Styles loved Wilde’s directorial debut, Booksmart, and is “very honored” that she cast him in a leading role for her second feature, a thriller titled Don’t Worry Darling, which went into production this fall. Styles will play the husband to Florence Pugh in what Styles describes as “a 1950s utopia in the California desert.”

Wilde’s movie is costumed by Academy Award nominee Arianne Phillips. “She and I did a little victory dance when we heard that we officially had Harry in the film,” notes Wilde, “because we knew that he has a real appreciation for fashion and style. And this movie is incredibly stylistic. It’s very heightened and opulent, and I’m really grateful that he is so enthusiastic about that element of the process—some actors just don’t care.”

“I like playing dress-up in general,” Styles concurs, in a masterpiece of understatement: This is the man, after all, who cohosted the Met’s 2019 “Notes on Camp” gala attired in a nipple-freeing black organza blouse with a lace jabot, and pants so high-waisted that they cupped his pectorals. The ensemble, accessorized with the pearl-drop earring of a dandified Elizabethan courtier, was created for Styles by Gucci’s Alessandro Michele, whom he befriended in 2014. Styles, who has subsequently personified the brand as the face of the Gucci fragrance, finds Michele “fearless with his work and his imagination. It’s really inspiring to be around someone who works like that.”

The two first met in London over a cappuccino. “It was just a kind of PR appointment,” says Michele, “but something magical happened, and Harry is now a friend. He has the aura of an English rock-and-roll star—like a young Greek god with the attitude of James Dean and a little bit of Mick Jagger—but no one is sweeter. He is the image of a new era, of the way that a man can look.”

Styles credits his style trans­formation—from Jack Wills tracksuit-clad boy-band heartthrob to nonpareil fashionisto—to his meeting the droll young stylist Harry Lambert seven years ago. They hit it off at once and have conspired ever since, enjoying a playfully campy rapport and calling each other Sue and Susan as they parse the niceties of the scarlet lace Gucci man-bra that Michele has made for Vogue’s shoot, for instance, or a pair of Bode pants hand-painted with biographical images (Styles sent Emily Adams Bode images of his family, and a photograph he had found of David Hockney and Joni Mitchell. “The idea of those two being friends, to me, was really beautiful,” Styles explains).

“He just has fun with clothing, and that’s kind of where I’ve got it from,” says Styles of Lambert. “He doesn’t take it too seriously, which means I don’t take it too seriously.” The process has been evolutionary. At his first meeting with Lambert, the stylist proposed “a pair of flares, and I was like, ‘Flares? That’s fucking crazy,’  ” Styles remembers. Now he declares that “you can never be overdressed. There’s no such thing. The people that I looked up to in music—Prince and David Bowie and Elvis and Freddie Mercury and Elton John—they’re such showmen. As a kid it was completely mind-blowing. Now I’ll put on something that feels really flamboyant, and I don’t feel crazy wearing it. I think if you get something that you feel amazing in, it’s like a superhero outfit. Clothes are there to have fun with and experiment with and play with. What’s really exciting is that all of these lines are just kind of crumbling away. When you take away ‘There’s clothes for men and there’s clothes for women,’ once you remove any barriers, obviously you open up the arena in which you can play. I’ll go in shops sometimes, and I just find myself looking at the women’s clothes thinking they’re amazing. It’s like anything—anytime you’re putting barriers up in your own life, you’re just limiting yourself. There’s so much joy to be had in playing with clothes. I’ve never really thought too much about what it means—it just becomes this extended part of creating something.”

“He’s up for it,” confirms Lambert, who earlier this year, for instance, found a JW Anderson cardigan with the look of a Rubik’s Cube (“on sale at matchesfashion.com!”). Styles wore it, accessorized with his own pearl necklace, for a Today rehearsal in February and it went viral: His fans were soon knitting their own versions and posting the results on TikTok. Jonathan Anderson declared himself “so impressed and incredibly humbled by this trend” that he nimbly made the pattern available (complete with a YouTube tutorial) so that Styles’s fans could copy it for free. Meanwhile, London’s storied Victoria & Albert Museum has requested Styles’s original: an emblematic document of how people got creative during the COVID era. “It’s going to be in their permanent collection,” says Lambert exultantly. “Is that not sick? Is that not the most epic thing?”

“It’s pretty powerful and kind of extraordinary to see someone in his position redefining what it can mean to be a man with confidence,” says Olivia Wilde

“To me, he’s very modern,” says Wilde of Styles, “and I hope that this brand of confidence as a male that Harry has—truly devoid of any traces of toxic masculinity—is indicative of his generation and therefore the future of the world. I think he is in many ways championing that, spearheading that. It’s pretty powerful and kind of extraordinary to see someone in his position redefining what it can mean to be a man with confidence.”

“He’s really in touch with his feminine side because it’s something natural,” notes Michele. “And he’s a big inspiration to a younger generation—about how you can be in a totally free playground when you feel comfortable. I think that he’s a revolutionary.”

STYLES’S confidence is on full display the day after the fitting, which finds us all on the beautiful Sussex dales. Over the summit of the hill, with its trees blown horizontal by the fierce winds, lies the English Channel. Even though it’s a two-hour drive from London, the fresh-faced Styles, who went to bed at 9 p.m., has arrived on set early: He is famously early for everything. The team is installed in a traditional flint-stone barn. The giant doors have been replaced by glass and frame a bucolic view of distant grazing sheep. “Look at that field!” says Styles. “How lucky are we? This is our office! Smell the roses!” Lambert starts to sing “Kumbaya, my Lord.”

Hairdresser Malcolm Edwards is setting Styles’s hair in a Victory roll with silver clips, and until it is combed out he resembles Kathryn Grayson with stubble. His fingers are freighted with rings, and “he has a new army of mini purses,” says Lambert, gesturing to an accessory table heaving with examples including a mini sky-blue Gucci Jackie bag discreetly monogrammed HS. Michele has also made Styles a dress for the shoot that Tissot might have liked to paint—acres of ice-blue ruffles, black Valenciennes lace, and suivez-moi, jeune homme ribbons. Erelong, Styles is gamely racing up a hill in it, dodging sheep scat, thistles, and shards of chalk, and striking a pose for Mitchell that manages to make ruffles a compelling new masculine proposition, just as Mr. Fish’s frothy white cotton dress—equal parts Romantic poet and Greek presidential guard—did for Mick Jagger when he wore it for The Rolling Stones’ free performance in Hyde Park in 1969, or as the suburban-mom floral housedress did for Kurt Cobain as he defined the iconoclastic grunge aesthetic. Styles is mischievously singing ABBA’s “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight)” to himself when Mitchell calls him outside to jump up and down on a trampoline in a Comme des Garçons buttoned wool kilt. “How did it look?” asks his sister when he comes in from the cold. “Divine,” says her brother in playful Lambert-speak.

As the wide sky is washed in pink, orange, and gray, like a Turner sunset, and Mitchell calls it a successful day, Styles is playing “Cherry” from Fine Line on his Fender acoustic on the hilltop. “He does his own stunts,” says his sister, laughing. The impromptu set is greeted with applause. “Thank you, Antwerp!” says Styles playfully, bowing to the crowd. “Thank you, fashion!”

[sssoto]

Happy 200th birthday, Serena!

My dearest baby Serena da Silva has her birthday today, October 17th, and it’s not just any birthday - today marks the day she was born 200 years ago! EEEP how exciting is that? You only get to celebrate an anniversary like that once in your lifetime!

If you’re unfamiliar with Serena, she is my character from my book project series for Amnesia: The Dark Descent, in which she plays a major role. She’s probably the character nearest and dearest to my heart, and she tends to be a fan favourite among readers as well, so I wanted to do something extra special for this particular anniversary.

So here comes: a birthday feature! In which I display all the amazing gifts Serena has received today.

First of all, I want to show the wip of what I had planned to do for Serena, which unfortunately I couldn’t finish in time since my laptop screen broke at the WORST. TIMING. EVER. I meant to have this artwork ready for today, but since I won’t be able to finish it until later, I’ll share a wip of the clean sketch:

I must admit, I’m quite proud of it! It’s the first time I experiment with perspective and interiors for real, and I also usually suck at drawing animals, but Cleo (Serena’s cat) came out quite okay here, so I’m happy! I hope I’ll be able to finish it sooner rather than later.

And now, let’s get into the amazing gifts my baby has received today AAAHHH!

@juliajm15

If you’ve been following me for a while, you might know that @juliajm15 is an art goddess who’s been making amazing beautiful fanart of my characters for the past couple years. She always goes so above and beyond for me, and that can be seen by LOOKING AT THIS GORGEOUS PIECE OF SERANIEL FANART.

IT’S THEIR FIRST KISS. THEY’RE SO YOUNG AND INNOCENT HERE. THAT HEIGHT DIFFERENCE. THAT DRESS. THAT HAIR (BOTH OF THEM). I COULD GO ON GUSHING BUT WE’D BE HERE ALL DAY.

OH YEAH, AND THAT BACKGROUND.

I just had to mention that.

OMG I die over how perfect and cute and romantic this is, it just completely captures the essence and emotion of that scene in my book! I feel so blessed and privileged, how am I ever gonna recover from this perfection?

But not only did she do this amazing gorgeous romantic piece for me, she also did a complete remake of Serena’s character portrait and DAMN SHE LOOKS GORGEOUS.

HOW does she always manage to capture Serena so perfectly? Ugh I honestly just can’t with this perfection, I just can’t. That expression, that hair, those LIPS. Okay, I’m gonna move on because I could literally gush about Serena’s face all day, but then we’d miss out on all the other amazing gifts she received today! Just, thank you so much @juliajm15 my darling, you’re such a generous and ultra skilled human being, thank you so much for being in my life and supporting me always

@shaelinwrites

So meme and aesthetics queen @shaelinwrites totally disarmed me today when she sent me THIS GORGEOUS MOODBOARD FOR SERENA OH MY LORD.

LOOK AT THAT GORGEOUS WINTER AESTHETIC. OMG LOOK, CLEO MADE A CAMEO ON THE BOTTOM LEFT. Omg these colours are just too beautiful I CAN’T. The art supplies, the gesture and expression of this girl, it’s all SO Serena. The whole feel of this moodboard is just so romantic and cosy and wintery and ugh, the nightgown, the long dark hair. I’m aware I’m just rambling and gushing throughout this post DEAL WITH IT.

And @shaelinwrites didn’t stop there, no, as any good bae, she knew how important the bae is. HAVE SOME MORE SERANIEL, THIS TIME BLACK AND WHITE SEXY EDITION.

OH MY LORD. HOW WILL I EVER RECOVER FROM ALL OF THIS. I CANNOT DEAL, CAN. NOT. DEAL.

All of this is literally just so accurate. Like, it’s so friggin’ hard to find good stock images that can embody a fictional character, BUT MY BAE DID IT *CRIES*. Thank you so much bae, omg this surprise was such a highlight today!!

@coffeeandcalligraphy

Another dear friend of mine (who’s a total cinnamon roll btw), @coffeeandcalligraphy, also went above and beyond for my character’s birthday because LOOK AT THIS:

I swear, everyone remembers the bae Baeniel. Eeeeeveryone.

Omg I swear, MY BABIES LOOK SO ATTRACTIVE HERE LIKE OH MY LORD. Daniel boooiiiiiii with that Expression of Angst™ and them puffy lips, and SERENA OMG THE HAIR AND THE LIPS AND EYES, HER INDIGENOUS ROOTS ARE SO PRONOUNCED WITH HER EYES AND I LOVE THAT.

I actually can’t??? Like how do I have so many talented af friends??? I must be a talent MAGNET I’m telling ya.

Oh and Rachel had the same idea as Baelin and went the sexy Black and White edition with the OTP as well:

BECAUSE CAN WE EVER HAVE TOO MUCH SEXINESS? I THINK NOT. Thank you so much @coffeeandcalligraphy I swear your art just blows me away, you’re improving at such a rapid pace, slow down, I can’t keep up

@sarahkelsiwrites

Also @sarahkelsiwrites is a close friend of mine, and actually @coffeeandcalligraphy‘s twin sister (gotta collect the whole pack amirite), and as part of her inktober challenge she did THIS GORGEOUS INKED PORTRAIT OF SERENA:

LIKE OMG OKAY SO the Victorian aesthetic is on POINT here, and OMG I love that her Hispanic features are soooo visible here. ALSO DAMN, THE DETAIL ON THE JEWELLERY. THE INKING OF THIS IS ALSO SO GREAT, LIKE, DO YOU SEE THE LINES IN HER HAIR???? I’m sorry, I’m an artist, I have to appreciate it when I see good craft, okay? I also gotta note that I’m living for how everyone always remembers Serena’s choker because girl never goes without one

Ugh HER EYES AND LIPS okay I gotta stop. I mention the eyes and lips every time, when will I switch it up. NEVER. Okay, glad we got that settled.

(Yes, I’m a dork, but only when I’m overwhelmed with this much love and beauty, I swear.)

Also omg THE SONG LYRICS, THOSE ARE SELENA GOMEZ LYRICS, AND IT’S STARS DANCE, AND I LOVE THAT SONG, AND IT’S SO RELEVANT, AND I’M ACTUALLY SHOOK. LORD thank you so much @sarahkelsiwrites god I just can’t believe how friggin’ talented and generous and thoughtful all of you are, I will never get over it.

Constance

So I’ve not mentioned this, but not too long ago I was totally taken by surprise and utterly *shook* when I received a private message on the site where I have Memoirs posted. This long message came from an angel named Constance, who registered a profile just to tell me how much she adored my story, give me fanart, and TELL ME SHE’S TRANSLATING THE ENTIRE THING TO FRENCH BRUH.

So if any of you out there are speaking French and not super comfortable with English, but still interested in reading Memoirs, it’s Constance you wanna hit up. She’s got you covered.

But back to the FANART.

Constance is working on this GORGEOUS Serena fanart for me, and while it’s not all finished yet, she said I could still post it for the birthday feature! (I’m going to update the post with the finished piece once it’s ready)

LOOK HOW CUTE AND PRETTY AND YOUNG MY SERENA IS HERE. THIS DRESS IS SO PRETTY, I DIE. OMG SHE HAS THE LOCKET. I realise like 90% of this post is all caps, but WHO CAN BLAME ME? I’m so #blessedyouknow right.

All I wanted in my life is Serena in a pink pretty dress. Thank you for realising my dreams, Constance *cries* and thank you so much for the endless support and this generosity! Seeing other people getting so invested in my story and characters really moves me so much, it’s all that I could hope for waaahh.

2k17 - Birthday One Shot

Okay, so I know how I said I couldn’t finish my artwork for Serena in time as I had intended, which made me very, very Sad™, BUT. I came up with something else.

So this was actually SUPER spontaneous and I usually NEVER do something like this, but I took a chance, and you know what? It worked out. I just wanna say thank you so much to my bae @shaelinwrites who pushed and motivated me to do this, I dunno what happened, but you must’ve transferred some of your writing machine abilities to me, because I actually managed to finish an entire one shot in JUST ONE DAY. (Are you as shook as I am? Cuz I can never seem to finish a chapter so I’m shook.)

Since I couldn’t finish my artwork for Serena like I planned, I decided to write a short fluffy non-canon one shot for her birthday. It was super spontaneous and unplanned, but it actually came surprisingly easy to write! I’ve not written in first person in many, many years, so this was really a leap of faith LOL, but I like the end result! A major thanks to @shaelinwrites, who encouraged me and critiqued the short before publication, and @coffeeandcalligraphy, @sarahkelsiwrites and @juliajm15 for giving it a read and telling me their thoughts as well! I hope you all enjoy this little piece of fluff; since I’m taking so long to write my book, maybe this can keep y’all entertained meanwhile

Thank you so much to everyone who’s supported me and celebrated Serena’s birthday with me, even just in spirit! It makes the long journey all worth it, knowing there are people out there who care (’:

(short story starts under the cut!)

Roses and Ballerinas

The balcony drapes danced lightly with the gentle morning breeze, a delicate waltz. My existence was comfort, head cushioned by feather pillows and silk sheets swathing my naked form. Sunlight hadn’t woken me; London was always grey, ash brick and fog, and even more so in the rainy days of October. However, for what one might expect, the morning didn’t seem to carry its usual autumn gloom—though I suppose that observation could’ve had more to do with my current disposition.

A smile crept on my lips at remembrance of the night previous, one which, if anyone saw, surely would’ve spoken of scandalous notions unfit for a such young lady to entertain. Fortunately, none had been around to witness what had occurred in this room; tangled limbs, kisses of the sweetest character, ardour’s touch, skin marked with such fierce passion that even I could not have imagined. It didn’t seem right that something so blissful could be immoral. Should a simple seal of matrimony reverse what was once considered debasement? What a frigid, unromantic sentiment. If anyone would’ve cared to ask me, I would sing praise to the levels of delight and unison one could only reach when committing so wholeheartedly to Venus’ embrace. Might my lover treat me to such a lovely experience again tonight? This was after all a special day of mine.

I turned in my silk cocoon to face him, and was met with a disappointing sight. Half my bed was empty, only evidence that anyone had occupied the space a faint outline in the wrinkled sheets where his body had laid. I was accustomed to sharing this queen size with no one. My parents had always been diligent in ensuring that I was endowed much more space than a small person like me required. Somehow, the vastness of this bed, indeed this entire room, seemed pronounced in this moment. I fancied I didn’t really like that much space at all. It only served to remind me of my loneliness.

Rationality grounded me; naturally, he’d gone to his own room before my maid servant would come to knock. It was only sensible. If Lydia came to discover him here, she could not keep such a secret from Mama—though truly I hadn’t much need for concern today, as she was typically inclined to let me sleep in on a day of my celebration. Yes, it was the day itself which heightened my sensitivity, nothing more. Admittedly I’d had hopes for the morning, that he might wake me with another of his sweet kisses, might whisper words of admiration and appreciation in my ears as he’d play with my dark locks—an occupation he liked to take up whenever he visited my private chambers, I’d noted with slight thrill. Indeed, he was a beautiful man—one would be hard-pressed to argue the fact—but more importantly was how knowledgeable he’d proven himself on the treatment of a woman. Had I ever felt so worshipped and adored? If so, I couldn’t recover the memory.

My hand caressed the empty space next to me. He’d always held my fancy, even before either of us could be consciously aware of such implications. As far back as when he’d been a scrawny boy with round green eyes and tufts of brown hair that grew unrestrained, too wild for taming. Such was he when I’d first laid eyes upon him, myself a guileless, wide-eyed girl just six years of age. Our childhood was an innocent one, as most are, and a discordant one, as most aren’t. We’d been too young to fathom the consequences of our relationship. Even so, I could never regret it.

The door clicked open. I sat in surprise, pulling on my duvet to cover me. Why would Lydia not knock? This conduct was so unlike my meek maid, and certainly rude and improper. Under usual circumstances I’d not mind, but in my current exposed state I would’ve preferred for my servant to know her place and knock before entering. Would she not question my state of undress? Would I have answers to offer that wouldn’t further incriminate myself and fuel her suspicions?

But the sight which entered was not Lydia; indeed, this character was too tall, too broad, too much man. The clothes he’d discarded last night was now fitted on him in a most casual manner, shirt tucked carelessly into the waistband of the trousers he’d worn the day before and not fully buttoned. The tension in my body dwindled, and I let a sigh of relief. “You’re awake already? I thought I might make it back before you’d notice my absence.” He wore a crooked smile as he closed the door behind him, though it wasn’t smug but awkward, as if regretful he might’ve troubled me while he was gone.

“Daniel, where did you go? Did you not care to think you could get caught sneaking in and out of my room like that?” I said while he approached. I could not ignore how he moved with an arm behind his back, making his climb back into bed rather clumsy looking.

His smile was amusement now, a hint of a chuckle on the tilt of his lips. He leaned close, and his scent engulfed me, piquant and potent, woodsmoke and seasalt. I savoured the fragrance of him, and his warmth, and those lips, perfect for kissing, as they met mine in a sweet greeting. “Happy birthday, darling,” he muttered against my smile.

He pulled back, much to my dismay—though that sentiment was soon replaced by curiosity as he presented whatever he’d cared so much to hide behind his back. “What is that?” The words escaped me before I’d taken a proper glance at the object; a wooden box, handcrafted. The carving of a rose adorned the top lid and composed the main attraction. Still the rest of the box was as skilfully ornamented, only with less eye-catching swirls and foliage.

“Watch.” He bit his lip in thrill as was his habit—one I found rather endearing, I might add. He produced a small key from his pocket and inserted it into an opening hidden on the side.

I looked on in fascination as three turns of the key set the box in motion. The lid of the case rose all on its own, and as a lovely tune began its play, a small ballerina came to life and emerged from the box. She twirled around in a graceful dance, contentment in her gesture. I brought both hands to my lips, unable to contain my smile; she had long black hair, just like mine. “A music box!”

“Is it to your liking?” Daniel chuckled, and this time his grin was indeed quite self-satisfied.

I took the music box in my own hands and brought it closer to my face. The ballerina spun and spun without a care in the world; she was me, a version of myself I had dreamed of once. Unrestrained, unchained, free of her cage. Her face was simply painted, but the meaning in her dancing form could not escape me. Such I had seen myself, fantasized of another life. That he remembered… “It’s beautiful! How… When did you arrange this?” The inquiry came out more quiet and raspy than I had intended, but he heard.

“Good while ago,” said he with an air of nonchalance, as though it was little trouble. “The actual crafting of the box and ballerina wasn’t too difficult, but I needed some help to have all the parts fitted together. A clockmaker assisted me in getting the thing to actually play; as you know, I’m not much of a musician.”

I audibly gasped and stared up at him, unable to help myself. “You crafted this yourself?”

He seemed amused by my shock—no wonder, as I shouldn’t have been so surprised. He was the son of an artisan after all. The tune of the music box came to a halt at last, its last note fading into silence. “With my own bare hands. Look here,” he pointed to the interior of the lid, “There’s an inscription.”

My eyes followed to where he pointed; the ballerina had indeed stolen attention away from an engraving hidden behind her, on the curved inner side of the rose-adorned lid. Soul free of sorrow, heart light with hope; this be the path I follow, this is the path I chose. My chest swelled, and breath hitched. I wanted to speak, yet couldn’t bring the words to my tongue. Instead I choked on them, and they came caught in my throat.

Daniel tilted his head, understandable question lingering in his expression. Oh, those striking green eyes, this lovely visage. Handsomeness was a term he embodied so utterly; how was it fair for a face like that to completely disarm a woman? I composed myself and swallowed the cry which would’ve escaped me if I’d had just little less self restraint. My one hand cupped the side of my face while the other held the music box, and my smile had no end to it still. Since all else I felt refused to be spoken, I settled on the one feeling I could formulate with ease—amusement. “Some poet you’ve become, huh?” I laughed, shaking my head, yet in an effort to quell the rush inside me.

He grinned and gave my shoulder a gentle shove, an action so very like his behaviour as a boy. “Don’t laugh, I put in a great effort; see, the words rhyme!”

My giggles intensified at his reaction. I placed the music box on the nightstand and spun the key again, thrice; thus the ballerina resumed her carefree dance, light and free. She was magical, twirling such as she did. What a spirit to have, a life to live. To choose your own path to follow, and not the one chosen for you.

I turned towards my company again and pulled on him, locking him between my arms in a tight embrace. “Thank you, Daniel.” I squeezed in hope that the fierceness of my display of appreciation would deliver the message better than words could. “Thank you so much. It’s wonderful.”

“I do consider myself quite the expert on gift giving.” His chuckle was warm against my bare neck. A large hand planted firmly between my shoulder blades and pressed me deeper into his warmth. “I’m sorry if I had you worried, Serena. I only went to fetch my gift for you. I promise I was careful.”

“It’s fine, Daniel.” The words came out in a sigh of contentment. He was indeed so broad and so much bigger than I; his figure wrapped me in amenity, instilling within me an ease I couldn’t hope to discover elsewhere. It was an ease of novel excitement and nostalgic familiarity, all at once. “In truth, what bothered me was the idea that you’d left me to wake by myself.” I pulled away enough to look at him and brushed a strand of his long, brown locks from his face. “Today of all days.”

At those words, Daniel constrained his smile from widening too much, and I blushed by the notion that I’d said something to make him so satisfied with himself. “Well, let me assure you that you needn’t worry of that, my love.” He leaned over me, and I fell back into silk. I had no need for the duvet to cover my naked figure any more; his broad form was quite enough coverage. “You should know that the only instance in which I would leave this bed willingly would be the moment you tire of me and kick me out.”

I bit my lip as a gratifying sensation waved through me, and my fingers found way to the waistband of his trousers, pulling the shirt loose of it. “If that is a challenge,” I laughed, “then go ahead and make your attempt at tiring me.”

By the smirk on his lips, it seemed he accepted. The music box played its last note; it rang into the room and deadened to silence, and so a music of another kind took its place. Lord pray that Lydia would have the thought to let her lady sleep in on her birthday.

So that was all for this century’s anniversary! Thank you so much to all my friends who made these amazing gifts for her, and all of you who participated in celebrating her; it means so much

Until next century, darlings! (I’m kidding, I’m not gonna be inactive on this blog a whole century…)

[photograpia]

Travel Thursday: (US 2017) The J Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles

 I was in the United States for almost a month this year getting some clinical experience by shadowing physicians in psychiatry and internal medicine. It was a working trip for the most part- but I was blessed to have family and friends who made the most of the downtime when not in the clinics by exploring art and food with me. 

A day after I had landed at LAX, my godmother (whom I hadn’t spent time with since a trip to Universal Studios in 1996) called and asked if I was willing to go on a spontaneous two-day adventure. She had planned for us to relive the Universal Studios trip 21 years prior on the second day (and we did, though we were sorely disappointed that the ET ride was no longer around) and told me to choose whatever I wanted to do for the first day. Without a second thought I picked what had always been on my art bucketlist: A trip to The J. Paul Getty Museum.

The J Paul Getty Museum at the Getty Center in Los Angeles houses some of the best European art in the US. Jean Paul Getty was an American industrialist, making his fortune in oil. He was an avid collector of art and antiquities, and at his death left the J Paul Getty Trust foundation as the wealthiest art institution in the world. The museum is in the Brentwood neighborhood in LA, an affluent area with homes with beautiful architecture peppered across the hills. A trip to the Getty begins with a tram ride that stretches uphill, showcasing just how lovely the area is. 

Then when you emerge at the top, this is what greets you. It was a perfect day- not a cloud in the sky, sun up, a gentle breeze blowing- and for a moment I completely forgot how jetlagged I was. 

Note that the Getty Center is HUGE. (Map for reference below). So before doing any exploring, we decided to fuel up at the Cafe. 

It needs to be said that the Cafe selection at the Getty is pretty great. It’s cafeteria style with multiple stations- deli, kitchen (full, farm-fresh, from scratch entrees), fiesta (it’s in LA), grill, oven, and a HUGE salad bar (again, in LA). 

I had my first bottle of kombucha since landing in LAX. It was a blueberry bottle from local LA-based brewery Kombuchadog- all the dogs featured on the labels are rescue pups, which is a touch I love! Yes, I am a regular kombucha drinker even if I realize it tends to smell like dank feet. I also do so carefully, because as a medical student I am aware that in excess it may lead to lactic acidosis. Kombucha carefully. 

For lunch I had a grilled chicken sandwich with air-fried fries. In this moment I was reminded about how enormous US serving sizes are compared to the tiny Asian plates I grew up with as reference. But I digress. That was a pretty good (and freshly-made!) meal, giving us sufficient energy to explore the grounds. 

We didn’t have all day at the museum, so we began with the sculptures in the East Pavillion. These three were my favorite:

Bust of Juliette Recamier, Joseph Chinard

The Family of General Philippe Guillame Duhesme, Joseph Chinard

Dancer, Paulo Troubetzky (I repeatedly turn to this image during tough parts of the semester, reminding myself to carry on with grace.)

I have always always loved museums, but have learned through the years that the people visiting them always also play such a big role in the experience. 

It is fascinating how one piece can be understood in so many ways and invoke different emotions. Sometimes it’s passion. Sometimes it’s awe. 

There were so many beautiful paintings that I stood before for such a long time in the South and West pavilions. These are some of them and the history behind them. 

Study of Clouds with a Sunset near Rome, Simon Denis, 1801

I know I sound like a broken record saying this, but my all-time favorite Philippine national artist is Fernando Amorsolo. His mastery of the use of light and the integration into local landscape scenes is unparalleled- and I often find myself looking for work similar to his when I travel. 

Denis painted this in Rome, and the weather an impending storm. It isn’t hard to see that in the oil painting, but his technique is seen in precisely how easy it is to see that from the use of light and textures. There is light contrasting with darkness to show the stark contrast in the change in weather. The strokes are done in a manner that you can see how fluffy the clouds are- but also how moist and heavy they must be, full of rain. Denis has a whole series of cloud paintings to hone this skill set (this is the 78th one), and it is a testament to how practice makes perfect. 

Spring, Lawrence Alma-Tadema, 1894

It was the detail in this painting that really caught my attention. It’s a huge painting- almost as tall as the wall from which it hung- but a closer look shows such vibrant colors and such attention to detail. Lawrence Alma-Tadema was a Dutch painter who specialized in Merovingian and Egyptian scenes but after a trip to Rome began painting what he envisioned as lively scenes from Pompeii, as is depicted here. The women and children carrying flowers in this procession are a reference of the Victorian custom of May Day, but juxtaposed against ancient Roman architecture. Almost half a decade after Spring was painted, it inspired certain imagery used in the iconic Cecille Demille film Cleopatra. 

Portrait of Maria Frederike van Reede-Athlone at Seven Years of Age, Jean Etienne Liotard, 1756

I’m not even going to pretend to have a deep reason for liking this painting- I saw it and loved it because it was about a girl and her dog. I liked it so much I ended up buying the magnet at the museum gift shop and it is currently on my refrigerator, holding up the Rustans sticker sheet for the Goodness Gang vegetable plushie I have yet to claim. 

Historically though, this portrait is a good example of changing attitudes toward children in the late 18th century Europe, and how commissions for children began then. Liotard used pastels for this portrait- as he often did for portraits of children because it was easy to manipulate quickly in case of interruptions- and let’s be real- with kids there’s bound to be a number. Also need to point out that while Maria is seen here as shy, her dog appears unabashedly curious and is looking straight out to the artist AND SMILING. 

Pepilla the Gypsy and Her Daughter, Joaquin Sorolla, 1910

It was my boyfriend who introduced me to Joaquin Sorolla’s work on his last trip to Spain. Sorolla’s work is mostly impressionist and he’s best known for his beach scenes (an example below). I loved this because of the warm Mediterranean colors and the tenderness that it shows. This made me miss my mom. 

La Promenade, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, 1870

You remember that scene in Frozen where Anna and Elsa are preparing for the ball, and Anna jumps by the giant portrait of a girl on a swing in her excitement? No disrespect to any one who hates Frozen, but that delight pretty much encapsulates what I feel each time I stand before a Renoir. And I personally really love Frozen as a film, so this is a compliment more than anything. 

Promenade (not the name the painter gave this piece) is a homage to the artists he was working with. The light and luminous palette with the feathery brushwork is akin to Claude Monet. You see the greens and browns of Gustave Courbet. The subject- a jaunt through the garden, is inspired by the work of Jean-Antoine Watteau and Jean-Honoré Fragonard that Renoir studied at the Lourve. The couple gazes at each other- to convey a sort of intimacy and depth.

Jeanne (Spring), Edouard Manet, 1881

Jeanne in this portrait is Jeanne Demarsay, a popular Parisian actress from the 1880s. She’s best remembered for having sat for portraits for both Manet and Renoir (Portrait of Mlle de Marsy). 

Spring was one of Manet’s last works, and is one where you can clearly see his mastery of the art form. It is a dance of the modern (seen in the fashion, that Manet pieced together himself) and the traditional (the painting style, that early Italian Renaissance profile). It is such a sensual and bright portrait. 

Portrait of Leonilla, Princess of Sayn-Wittgenstein-Sayn, Franz Xaver Winterhalter, 1843

It needs to be said that if Leonilla were not a princess, this pose would have never been allowed for a portrait of its time. Reclining on a low Turkish sofa at a veranda, this scene was often in reference to harems and odalisques. That this was made at Leonilla’s insistence says so much about her strength and tenacity as well. Known for her great beauty and intellect, she sits confidently in ivory silk, casually reaching for the pearls on her neck while holding a steady, strong gaze. 

Irises, Vincent Van Gogh

Two weeks ago I saw the film Loving Vincent, which is art in itself (the first fully painted animated feature film) and looks back on the circumstances surrounding Van Gogh’s death. I also found it to be a subconscious treastise on mental health, which I think is of value to consider when one looks at Van Gogh’s art. 

Irises was one of the first paintings Vincent Van Gogh made after he checked himself into the asylum n Saint-Rémy, France. He had been going through bouts of depression and self-mutilation prior to this and his art became part of his healing at the asylum. It was inspired by Japanese woodblock prints and is notable for the curves and waves of the irises- people remark that it is as though he fully understood what it meant for flowers to move. I love this painting more so after realizing the context- that despite the circumstances and the darkness he evidently felt at the time, he managed to create art that showed such air and life. 

My jetlagged but thrilled self at the gardens, heart full after being surrounded by such art. If you find yourself in LA and haven’t gone yet, you must must must go visit the Getty! 

[annietwilightassortedcandy-blog]

I have a soft spot for cemeteries.

Recently, I posted an Instagram photo of a crumbling headstone and got a like from Jolene Lupo, a stranger of the alive variety.

But upon closer inspection of her profile pic—a black and white of a marble-eyed brunette—I wondered if Lupo might not be a phantom.

My sleuthing revealed Lupo was not a hallucination but the tintype studio manager of Penumbra Foundation, a Manhattan nonprofit dedicated to historical photography. The more I scrolled through her feed, the more I became enchanted with tintypes—kind-of like metal Polaroids of the mid-1800s.

As the child of antique fanatics, I grew up going to flea markets. Yet I was familiar with tintypes of whiskered soldiers, not the bearded hipsters I saw on Penumbra’s accounts.

Penumbra’s tintype of Jake Gyllenhaal created a stunning cover for a recent edition of Deadline Magazine. A headshot of Al Roker made the newscaster seem less like a weatherman and more like a long-lost uncle.

I especially admired Penumbra’s macabre renderings. Modeled in the style of William H. Mumler, a 19th-century photographer, spirit tintypes traditionally contained a sitter and a ghost, who appeared during development. Manipulated without the client’s knowledge, these tintypes claimed to connect the living to the dead.

I wanted one.

After a few days of cyber stalking Lupo and Penumbra, I became familiar with all the ways a specter could visit a single gal like me: as a ghoul in a lantern, a thirsty vampire or a bony old lady in rags. While tintype photography is enjoying a nation-wide renaissance, Penumbra is unique in that it ventures into wraith territory.

In honor of my 43rd birthday, a boring number, I decided to splurge on a one-of-a-kind portrait. With increasing pressure to feed an online personae, I wanted a keepsake that romanticized my fine lines instead of eliminating them. My goal was to have a striking profile that illuminated my soul while leaving enough shadow to protect it.

When I arrived at Penumbra’s East 30th Street location, I recognized Lupo immediately. Small-boned and dressed in black, she reminded me of Mary Shelley re-incarnated.

The studio was spartan clean with wooden floors and white walls. Lupo led me down messier corridors to glimpse relics from a massive collection: a wooden baby holder for squirmy children, an adjustable neck brace and “Big Bertha,” a canon-shaped camera with a judgemental cyclops eye.

My attention turned to the spirit photo on the wall: a headless skeleton and a present-day gentleman in a suit and tie.

But I also appreciated a scene I saw on the website, two guys in blazers whose Ouija board session was interrupted by a transparent hand.

To modern eyes, the photos are pure kitsch, but in the 1800s, clients believed.

Lupo flipped through the studio’s copy of The Strange Case of William Mumler, Spirit Photographer. The paperback showed Mumler’s most famous work: a trifecta of celebrities that included Mary Todd Lincoln, her dead son, Thaddeus, and the 16th President of the United States, who had recently been assassinated.

Mumler made a career off grief, particularly from women who had lost sons and husbands in the Civil War. Clients like Mrs. Lincoln might have been influenced by spiritualism, a Victorian movement—with roots in feminism—that offered peepholes into the afterlife. In 1869, Mumler was charged with fraud, but the jury couldn’t prove how he generated his apparitions.

“I don’t think it matters so much how Mumler did it, as much as the fact that he was able to pull it off at all,” Lupo mused, “and without the help of the internet.”

I wondered if I might also struggle between tech and reality. Certainly I was a sucker for folklore, and Lupo could spin a tale.

Her surname is Italian for “wolf.” She is engaged to a man named Falco, Italian for “falcon.”

This wolf-falcon watched my face as I produced my beat-up copy of Jane Eyre, a prop I wanted in the photo. “What do you like about the story?” she asked, obviously fishing. I told her I loved Charlotte Brontë’s descriptions of a mad first wife chained up in an antic.

After this fun interview, I changed into a 1940s robe, a gift from my cousin. I didn’t have to wear a costume, but I wanted to show off one of my most unique vintage pieces.

In the studio, we played with angles and attitude. I would look down with closed eyes—convenient, since I’m a blinker—and open my lips to convey surprise. I practiced my position, holding my book with my left hand while my right rested on my chest.

Next, Lupo led me into the darkroom to show she had no tricks up her sleeve, other than a fumey solution containing ether and grain alcohol. “Cheers,” she said, as she poured the syrupy collodion mixture onto a 4 by 5 piece of aluminum. She placed this “wet plate” into a silver nitrate bath for three minutes. By the time Lupo stuck the prepared plate into the camera, a Super Speed Graphic, I was in position. We would get one shot. The final product would be a material object she would varnish, scan and hand to me in a cardboard jewelry box.

“Look down,” Lupo said under a red and black cape. “Look up a bit more. Now hold the book in line with your chin, so it is in the light.”

Lupo took the photo with what sounded and felt like a small explosion.

Thwack.

With modern lighting and electronic flash units, the exposure was instantaneous, but finding and holding the pose made my back ache.

As Lupo went into the darkroom to wrestle with my poltergeist, I got up to stretch.

“Get ready,” Lupo called, bringing out a container with my picture floating in it.

I set my phone to video mode and watched myself emerge. I thought my lanky limbs resembled those of Granny Holloway. My shadowed eyelids reminded me of Grandma Votaw or maybe Great Granny Blair.

At the last second, there was an addition above Jane Eyre.

“Oh,” I said laughing. Then “ooooooo.” To my delight, my spirit showed itself in the form of a “mourning ghost,” a veiled woman who was so sad, she had to cover her face.

No selfie has ever satisfied me as much.

Regular 4 by 5 portraits are $100. Spirit photographs are $125. Visit here to make an appointment.

This article originally appeared in the Observer

[caveartfair]

The Artists Everyone Talked about during Art Basel in Basel

Laure Prouvost, Lèche Car, 2019. © Laure Prouvost. Courtesy of Lisson Gallery.

While Art Basel in Basel celebrated its 50th anniversary this year, I experienced the fair—and the city—for the first time. On assignment to discover the “artists everyone was talking about,” I quickly learned that the week of festivities didn’t quite work like that. When I’d visited Art Basel in Miami Beach and Hong Kong, a certain amount of hype built around particular young artists, or older artists just getting their due. At a dinner in Miami, for example, a collector shared photos on his phone of work by an artist that he and his cohort had already deemed the next hot thing. In Basel, the old guard still reigned.

“Art fairs are not a good place to discover artists,” art historian, collector, and dealer Sabina Fliri told me at a Monday night dinner for Lisson Gallery at the Restaurant Schlüsselzunft.Over plates of fish and white asparagus (spring in Europe: asparagus season!), she explained that at the fair, she’d be interested to see high-profile or blue-chip pieces that she hadn’t seen before. She collects work by Georg Baselitz, among other artists.

Installation view of Lucy Dodd, David Lewis Gallery’s booth at Art Basel, 2019. Courtesy of Art Basel.

The next day, Art Basel in Basel opened to a flurry of activity at the Messe Basel hall. Some booths were too crowded to enter; many dealers were reticent to speak with me until the halls calmed down—“come back tomorrow” was a common refrain. As Gagosian announced its new gallery outpost in Basel, film crews swarmed the booth.

On Wednesday, I went back to speak to Lisson executive director Alex Logsdail about how his booth was faring. After the first day, the gallery reported sales of four works by artist Laure Prouvost, priced from €4,000–€10,000 (around $4,500–$11,200). Prouvost is now representing France at the Venice Biennale. “I think it’s attributable to Venice and also her kind of general rise,” Logsdail said about the sales, also nodding to a recent write-up on the artist in the New York Times. Though busy, he’d found time to visit Unlimited, Art Basel’s specially curated exhibition organized by Gianni Jetzer. There, Logsdail enjoyed a Lucy Dodd installation in which her large-scale canvases form the walls of a small room. “I thought her ability to make a sculptural structure out of her paintings was very interesting,” he offered.

Unlimited also served up Art Basel’s biggest scandal of the week. News broke on Wednesday that participating artist Andrea Bowers had appropriated Twitter photographs of Helen Donahue—a journalist who was physically abused—without her consent. Bowers’s installation Open Secrets Part I & II (2018, 2019) listed details about and images of approximately 200 people, mostly men, who were recently accused of abuse and harassment during the #MeToo movement. Bowers removed the image of Donahue from the installation.

William Kentridge, Ubu tells the truth, 1997. © William Kentridge. Courtesy of the Kunstmuseum.

At a dinner celebrating Galerie St. Etienne’s 80th anniversary, gallery director Jane Kallir told me she looked forward to seeing the Kunstmuseum exhibitions of William Kentridge and “The Cubist Cosmos: from Picasso to Leger.” Between the latter show and the Fondation Beyeler’s “The Young Picasso—Blue and Rose Periods” exhibition, Picasso was the best-represented artist in the city’s major institutions.

Kallir told me the gallery’s been attending Art Basel for 15 years, and she considers it “far and away” the best fair. “It has an intellectual level, a level of connoisseurship that you get in no other fair anywhere,” she said. At dinner, as if to prove her point, I’d been seated next to a man who collected mostly prints by Ernst Ludwig Kirchner and works by Francis Alÿs; he told me he enjoyed learning about how artists’ practices developed over time.

Fernand L��ger, La Femme en bleu, 1912. Courtesy of Kunstmuseum Basel.

Pablo PIcasso, Portrait de jeune fille, 1914. © Succession Picasso 2019, ProLitteris, Zurich. Courtesy of Centre Pompidou, Musée national d'art moderne, Paris. © Centre Pompidou, Mnam - CCI / Jean Claude Planchet.

Even gallerists who didn’t participate in the fair benefited from the influx of international collectors. Alfred Kornfeld, who runs Berlin’s Galerie Kornfeld, held an apéro at one of Basel’s oldest “fasching” cellars, where a group meets throughout the year to prepare for annual carnival festivities, which include parades and musical performances. Clown figurines, paintings, and stained glass hung on the walls above platters of meats and cheeses. “Being a gallerist means also having the passion for collecting,” Kornfeld told me. “You also want to enjoy Basel.” At the König Galerie booth, he’d bought a painting by Peter Dreher of a water glass—half full or half empty, depending on how you look at it.

Still on the search for the next hot thing, I made my way to the Liste fair on Thursday. A more relaxed atmosphere immediately greeted me. At the entrance, visitors indulged in fresh-grilled sausages. Located in a former brewery, with galleries setting up shop in irregularly shaped rooms, the fair offered a winding maze of presentations that led visitors up and down stairs and around corners.

Diana Ursan, of Bucharest’s Ivan gallery, was showing an installation entitled Debrisphere (2017–present) by Romanian artist duo Anca Benera & Arnold Estefan. It involved a lot of rocks—in UV prints, collage, and sculptural installation.

Patrick Goddard, Bin Juice, 2019. Courtesy of Seventeen Gallery.

Outside the fair, Ursan had enjoyed the Parcours presentations—a series of installations in public venues throughout Basel, curated by Samuel Leuenberger. She was particularly fond of the figurative sculptures by Cathy Wilkes at Museum der Kulturen Basel. Parcours, Ursan added, leads viewers to discover spaces they might not otherwise encounter. In her case, it was the Natural History Museum of Basel, which she visited to see an installation by Ad Minoliti.

London’s Seventeen Gallery exhibited one of Liste’s most striking installations. Artist Patrick Goddard created 200 lead fish for a piece titled Bin Juice (2019). They lay atop the booth’s appropriately blue floor. Associate director Victoria Al-Din shared that Goddard had “stolen, or reclaimed” the lead from pipes of Victorian terrace houses, which were going to be destroyed and replaced with high-rise flats. “They’re effectively made of gentrification,” she said of the fish. The artist scattered them so visitors would have trouble navigating the floor, implicating them, too. The piece sold the first day of the fair, for £10,000 (around $12,600), to a private collector in Germany.

Anca Benera and Arnold Estefan, Debrisphere, 2017–ongoing. Courtesy of Ivan Gallery.

Anca Benera and Arnold Estefan, Debrisphere, 2017–ongoing. Courtesy of Ivan Gallery.

Al-Din and gallery director David Hoyland told me they’d attended a Simone Forti performance at the Kunsthaus Baselland. “Two people underneath wooden boxes, with whistles, trying to play music together; can’t hear each other, can’t see each other, all alone under the boxes, separated from each other, whistling to each other!” Hoyland described. “It was beautiful!”

That night, the old brewery threw a party on the terrace (full disclosure: Artsy hosted). Trey Hollis, P.P.O.W’s art fair director, was enjoying Basel for the first time. “I’m utterly enchanted, beyond measure,” he said. In addition to its own booth, P.P.O.W was showing a presentation of Martha Wilson photographs and films from the early 1970s at Unlimited. “There’s a connection between the emergence of second-wave feminist work and its critical relationship to Conceptualism, which is exactly what she was exploring,” Hollis explained.

Meanwhile, gallerist Alexandra Rockelmann was exhibiting work by U.S.–based artists including Claire Ashley, Bailey Romaine, Megan Stroech, and Jeffrey Teuton. Rockelmann splits her time between galleries in Albuquerque and Berlin. “We did a very conceptual booth,” she said, adding that she wanted to show the potential of paper as an artistic medium. Rockelmann offered an opposing sentiment to what I’d heard at the beginning of the week. According to her, Basel is indeed a good place to show artists who haven’t yet exhibited in Europe: “It doesn’t guarantee you sales, but it guarantees you certain publicity,” she offered. “It is seen.”

from Artsy News

[plusorminuscongress]

Picture This: Caught Our Eyes: No Getting Past the Dog Days

Caught Our Eyes: No Getting Past the Dog Days By Barbara Orbach Natanson

The Caught Our Eyes sharing wall. Photo by P&P staff, 2018 Feb. 28.

No, this is not a post bemoaning the sultry heat of late summer (sometimes referred to, apparently for astronomical reasons, as the “dog days”). The Prints & Photographs Division’s dog days are prompted by the realization that various staff members highlighted portraits of dogs (some with accompanying humans) on the division’s “Caught Our Eyes” wall, where we share with our colleagues pictures that made us look twice.

Here are the canine “finds,” presented in order by when the photographs were made:

I recently added to the sharing wall this portrait, which I ran across while looking for something else in the Civil War photographs online.

[City Point], Virginia. General Rufus Ingall’s coach dog. Photo, 1865 March. https://ift.tt/2MTn8Rt

It reminded me just how much this body of photographs, which was intended to document the war, often provides a view of other aspects of life in the 1860s. I wondered why the photographer took the time to photograph General Rufus Ingall’s coach dog. He had to go to some trouble to set up this shot, recording it on a stereo glass negative that could ultimately yield a 3-D view. Was he trying to curry favor with General Ingalls? Or did he just like dogs himself? And what is a coach dog? (A quick look at Wikipedia and other sources suggest that they were also referred to as “carriage dogs,” were trained to run beside carriages to protect the passengers from bandits, and were often Dalmatians.)

Digital Library Specialist Anne Mitchell was delighted to discover this canine among the thousands of turn-of-the-twentieth century portraits in the C. M. Bell Studio Collection.

Dick, Mrs. I.V. Photo by C. M. Bell, between February 1894 and February 1901. https://ift.tt/2N51QQC

Drawing on her knowledge of the original captions that accompanied the photographs (and her love of dogs), she noted: “The sparse captions sometimes mention the presence of a dog. As a dog owner, I totally get why people would want to pose with their dog. During the Victorian era, however, dogs were not only beloved family members but were also fashionable accessories. I love how this dog is looking straight at the camera; the owner, with a mysterious Mona Lisa-like expression seems satisfied posing there with her pooch.”

Reference librarian Jon Eaker likewise responded to the poses struck by the dog and human in this slightly later portrait by Harris & Ewing, Inc. which operated in Washington, D.C., between 1905 and 1945: “I just liked how they were posed. An elegantly dressed woman, turned, with her hand on her hip, looking directly at the camera. Meanwhile her dog is draped across her lap (even though it’s much too large to be a lap dog), legs outstretched, and its head turned just enough to get a perfect profile.”

[Con]nolly, Francis, Mrs. Photo by Harris & Ewing, ca. 1917. https://ift.tt/2BYyTlj

Whatever the season or era, these photographs suggest how dogs have played a variety of roles in humans’ daily lives and self-presentation.

Note: We also have plenty of cat lovers on our staff. Stay tuned for a post about delightful discoveries in the realm of feline visual documentation!

Learn More:

Take a walk through every breed of dog and dog-inspired art in these search results from the Prints & Photograph Online Catalog.

See how many additional dogs you can find in the collections from which we fetched these:

Civil War Glass Negatives & Related Prints. You can also gain perspective on what it took to make a photograph in the Civil War–and that’s without taking into account the challenges of persuading a Dalmatian to stand still for a slow exposure!

C. M. Bell Studio Collection (collection overview). To find the photos in the Prints & Photographs Online Catalog, combine your search word(s) with “bellcm” or view them all!

Harris & Ewing Collection.

As testimony to the fact that we trip across dogs at every turn, have a look at a previous “Caught Our Eyes” post, “Canine Cart Trip.”

Sample dog pictures across the collections in this selected free to use and reuse set.

Published August 29, 2018 at 10:10AM Read more on https://loc.gov