“Look at this Distinguished Gentleman.”

Alternate title:

“A Light in a Dark Backstage.”

Photographing backstage at a fashion show is rough. I wanted to write “can be rough”, but it “is” rough. You arrive at a mandated call time. Let’s say that is 7:45 for a 9:00 show. The show is (always) delayed. You stand outside. It’s raining. The PR and security stands under umbrellas or a large travertine archway. You are made to wait in a designated roped off pen which is outside of the protection from the rain. It’s now 9:07. The guests are being let it, but you’re still outside. “They are going to cancel the backstage” you think. And then right at that moment you are let in. “Sorry guys, we are really in a hurry!” they say as you are rushed into the venue. 60 seconds to shoot. You can only shoot against this black curtain where there is no light. And then someone screams “All photographers out NOW! ANYONE who is not a model needs to leave!”

I always leave when they say to leave. Some stay and try to get a few more photos. I leave in hopes that they will remember that we respect their rules in hopes that next time we will be treated a bit better. It doesn’t happen, but so it goes.

To summarize, being backstage, as lucky as we all are to be there, is not easy. But there are people who make it better. Easier.

I do know that when I met Stephen backstage, I already knew who he was to some extent. I knew his face. Perhaps from my mom’s fashion magazines. But I recall we made eye contact, and he said hello, and from thereon out, we have always greeted one another when we find ourselves in the same crowded space.

In February of last year, I asked Stephen if I could photograph him for a (this) personal project. And in June we were again both in a crowded backstage. This time it was Dries’ final show, and the light was incredible, so after he’d given his congratulations to the Belgian, I asked him to step in front of a glowing white wall, hoping he would oblige.

In June I meet Stephen at the Christian Dior headquarters and we drink coffees in a central courtyard while we chat about our respective upbringings in Liverpool and Tacoma. It’s very warm outside, and Stephen realizes he’s taken off his hat, and says “I suppose I should have my hat on.” before he replaces it on his head. I snap a photo before he achieves his objective.

He tells me that he is preparing for a show at the Palais Galliera. A collection of nearly 400 of his works from the full span of his career, and even a few pieces that precede him. I ask if I could see it before it opens, again hoping he would oblige.

On 27 September I get the private tour. He starts me off with two hats which he did not make. His father’s rugby hats from the late 1930’s. He shows me hats made for this icon, and that muse. This hat is made to be worn for the hypothetical walk one might take with Lord Byron. Hats for Boy George, Princess Di, hats for a Thom Browne show, or a Dior show. I’m surrounded by his history, and he is clearly excited to show and tell me his story.

In the tour he takes a hat which supports a chartreuse Lucite cutout of the UK. I ask him to point out where Liverpool is. He shows me with his little finger and then replaces this hat on its display.

Everything is under paper. Not quite ready. I’m getting the true backstage experience. Barely any light to shoot, but every time Stephen pulls back the paper to expose his past, he lights up.

Thank you, Stephen.