Ok, DARREL…here you go…

I first met “Pitti Darrel.” Darrel has informed me that we first met outside of a Siki Im show in New York City in 2012. Pitti Darrel is when Regular Darrel would dress up like he was at Pitti Uomo…little newsboy hat, wools…waistcoats...shirts with buttons, you get it. In the beginning there was only Pitti Darrel, and as the years progressed, Pitti Darrel would only appear biannually in Florence, until eventually Pitti Darrel was shed like a cocoon and Regular Darrel emerged as a full-time persona. Regular Darrel still looks quite expensive, don’t you worry.

Darrel does not curse. Or, well, he does, but the only under attenuating circumstances where “Oh my GOODness” just doesn’t cut it. I find nothing more hilarious than when “What the FLIP?!” comes out of Darrel’s mouth. Nothing.

Darrel and I run around the planet, popping up outside of shows in France, America, Italy, England, and less obvious places like Tbilisi. No matter where we end up, however, when Darrel orders food at a restaurant and gives his name, we can be SURE that the staff will get it wrong. “Darrel” becomes “Daroll”, “Garel”, “Darell”, and my favorite: “Nahor”. It’s almost as bad as the time I got my coffee at Starbucks and the barista wrote my name as “Jerk” on the cup. What the FLIP!?

I’m trying to find a story to tell you about Darrel and I…but most are just a bit too inappropriate to share. What I can tell you, is that Darrel and I like to sit around a dinner table and share stories together. We talk about photographer etiquette, or more often, the lack thereof. We talk about…ok we mostly just gossip. Recently in Tbilisi, we realized just how much we…two over 40-year-old men…love to gossip. It’s never malicious. In fact, it’s never even really anything of much substance. It’s just two dudes throwing their hands up in the air and saying, “Can you believe _____ did that!?” and Darrel will reply with his ever-identifiable British accent saying “Lit’rully” or “See’ryuslee!?”

Not so long ago, during a stay at a the CitizenM hotel in New York City, Darrel shared a “See’ryusly!?” story with me. Darrel tells me that he boarded the “lift” to head up to his room. On the lift was an older “gentleman” …white…which becomes important in a moment. This “gentleman” starts a conversation with Darrel as they head up the tower of the hotel. The man says something to the tune of: “I didn’t know that they let the delivery boys ride the guest elevators.” Darrel informed the “gentleman” that he was, in fact, a guest of the hotel. Please note that Darrel would have MOST LIKELY been wearing something from his arsenal of black nylon Prada with Saffiano accents. He would likely be wearing Issey Miyake pleated trousers or the matching button up shirt. He would LIKELY have a camera in his arm, worth close to the better side of $7000. If not holding the camera, he’d likely have an M1-M3 MacBook Pro tucked under his Miyake or Prada sleeve. But to this man, Darrel must be a delivery boy. “See’ryusly!? What the FLIP!?”

Cool story, right!? I like to think that Darrel would have been wearing his black cap with bold white letters with the film title “LA HAINE” scrawled across it. That would really tie the room together.

Darrel is a good man, and a man who does good things. He is polite, kind, courteous, well dressed and well mannered. He makes eye contact when he speaks to you and he always says hello and goodbye, please and thank you. But I must say that aside from those things, my favorite thing about Darrel is…

Well…

Sorry man…

Darrel is always late. ALWAYS.

Those who know me know that I too am always late. But…I am early in comparison to Darrel. Darrel makes me look GOOD when I roll up to a photographer dinner 20 minutes late. I am always assured that Darrel will be walking in after I’ve sat, so I can raise my hands in the air and exclaim “See’ryusly!?” Everything is relative, and in relative terms, my tardiness is seen as punctuality in comparison.

End of piss-take.

I’m very lucky to have a friend like Big-D. I get to travel the world and stand in the rain/snow/heat/wind with my buddy. On two occasions we have had a Georgian man scrub the life out of our flesh while splayed out on a tiled tabletop. We have eaten easily 100 meals at Sabbia d’Oro in Milan together. Numerous overpriced dinners at Café Charlot and dozens of bowls of various things at Nanashi (RIP).

For better or for worse, I think that we will be out there doing this lifestyle for many years to come together. But that “lit’rully” just means more for us to gossip about.

Thanks, Daerulle