There once was a shop called Blackbird.

A long time ago, in a city called Seattle, in a neighborhood called Ballard, was a place you could find Robert Geller, Nom de Guerre, Raf Simons, and more. I wore those brands, nearly exclusively until one day the owner of the now defunct shop, Nicole Miller asked me my opinion about stocking a new brand.

“We are getting that brand…what’s it called…I forget his name. The guy with the long straight super black hair. American guy. What’s his name?”

“Rick Owens? Is that who you mean?” I asked.

“Yes! Rick Owens! What do you think about that stuff? It’s wild!” She replied.

“Um. Yeah, that’s not for me. I can’t pull it off.”

6 months later I was wearing Rick head to toe. Dunks, drop-crotch, diaphanous t’s, and dimensional jackets. I was all in. If you Google hard enough, there is even a photo of me wearing a Rick Owens sleeveless…duvet…and a pair of Turbo wedges. Actually, don’t Google that, please.

Around 20 years later I was asked if I was available to shoot a portrait of Rick for T Magazine China by my friend Zhu. I made myself available.

I arrived at Rick’s “house” on the Place du Palais-Bourbon. Eugene Rabkin would handle the interview, and I would get my photos and get out of there. I arrived and chatted with Eugene, and then Rick came downstairs and introduced himself by asking me, “Now who are you?” I replied with my name and told him I’ve been backstage at somewhere around 40 of his shows over the past decade and a half. He told me he’d never seen me before. I was surprised, but also very proud of myself for disappearing all of my 185 centimeters so successfully for so long.

We chatted only briefly. For some reason the main topic was “slutty desserts”. (His wording, unfortunately not mine, but I am stealing it.). I asked him what he meant by that, and he told me he didn’t know the name of it, but they were these little cream filled pastries, and he absolutely loves them. I still do not know exactly which dessert he was talking about, but I’m sure I can find it on Tinder.

This occupied my mind for a while until Pixie walked in. Pixie was completely naked…and without shame. Pixie was, and I imagine still is, a Sphynx cat. Like the slutty desserts, you can swipe left on these posts to find her.

I took some portrait and then sat and listened to Eugene and Rick’s conversation for over 2 hours. I did not leave.

Eugene asked Rick what he thought of the show from the day before.

“It was a great last show.” Rick said.

Eugene replied with a bit of surprise “Was that your last show?!?”

Rick replied “No. But if it was, it would have been a good one.”

Thanks, Rick.