Michel Rostang’s Black Truffle Sandwich

Michel Rostang is the chef and owner of several French gourmet restaurants, including restaurant Michel Rostang, for which he has earned two Michelin stars. “I love everything about what I do,” Michel says. “I still love being in the kitchen.”

Michel comes from a family of chefs—he is the son of chef Jo Rostang of La Bonne Auberge in Antibes, which earned three Michelin stars. “I am very proud to be a fifth-generation chef,” he says. “Since I lived in the restaurant, we were nursed by the various smells from a very young age. So it’s always been a vivid interest. It was written in the cradle.”

Family is still very important to him, and he considers his business model a “family model.” He and his daughters, Sophie and Caroline, collaborated on a cookbook, Rostang Père & Filles, which includes more than 60 family recipes, and Caroline is in charge of the modern bistro L’Absinthe.

In December, Michel, Sophie and Caroline hosted a cooking class at his private kitchen in Paris for friends of Citizens of Humanity. In the class, the Rostangs taught attendees how to make his warm black truffle sandwich, and the recipe is reprinted below for all to enjoy.
 


 


RETURN TO THE HOME PAGE
VISIT CITIZENSOFHUMANITY.COM

Chuck Hughes

When I reach Canadian chef Chuck Hughes, he’s coming off a fairly average workday, by his account. “Some people were moving and basically threw out their whole apartment onto the street behind our restaurant,” he says. “Then I dropped my 3-year-old off at school, and now I’m with my 9-month-old, who’s passed out in a stroller listening to tropical rainforest music while I’m talking to my partner at the restaurant. Pretty much a regular day.”

That response is typical: The 40-year-old Hughes is unfiltered, hilarious and talks a mile a minute, which makes him perfect for the on-camera work he’s done over the past several years (while maintaining multiple restaurants in Montreal, of course). He’s hosted a handful of shows, including Chuck’s Day Off on Canada’s Food Network and Chuck’s Eat the Street, in which he explored American street-food culture. Hughes was also the youngest Canadian chef to win Iron Chef America. His secret ingredient? Lobster, which was fitting, given that he’s got a tattoo of the crustacean on one arm.

He grew up less than an hour outside Montreal, a ski-resort town. Hughes was a wild teen (“If you ask my mom, I was amazing up until like 13”), then a wild adult. “From the age of 18 to 28, I proceeded to drink and do as many drugs as possible, and even came to the brink of jail,” he confesses. After a “rude awakening,” he opened his own restaurant with friends and got sober at 30. “We kept the restaurant [Garde Manger] and opened another one [Le Bremner], and that’s my story in a nutshell,” he says. “Cooking saved my life.”

Yes, Hughes’ life is significantly less wild than it was a decade ago, but he doesn’t feel as if he’s missing out. “I’m the same guy, I just have a different outlook.” And while the dad role isn’t one he ever imagined playing, he’s adjusting just fine. “I have two kids, which is something I always wanted but never thought would actually happen,” he says. “When I’m with them and we’re swimming in the pool, finding rocks outdoors and putting them in a glass, I’m living the dream. That’s when I forget about the restaurant, and whichever vegetable’s trendy that week. Who gives a crap? Fatherhood isn’t easy, but it’s an investment—a really good one.”

SHOP THE FATHER’S DAY EDIT

RETURN TO THE HOME PAGE

VISIT CITIZENSOFHUMANITY.COM

Nicole Katz

The gun-toting Hierophant, the false prophet in director and artist Aaron Rose’s collection of poster-sized tarot cards, looks like he just walked out of mob movie. “The shooting target tarot deck” is as “good in a frame as it is at the gun range,” reads the tongue-in-cheek description of Rose’s handiwork on Paper Chase Press’s website. Rose calls his deck “Trump Cards,” and they’re among the smartly designed projects available from Infoshop, Paper Chase’s newly launched platform for art and design experiments with political edge. Proceeds for certain posters — including artist Jibade-Khalil Huffman’s red-on-gray call to “Name streets after more black and brown heroes in black and brown neighborhoods” — go entirely to the ACLU. The t-shirt designed by Berlin-based Ketuta Alexi-Meskshivili, rust-on-white tie-dye, says “Sad!” largely and ambiguously, just as the 45th president often does.

“As the owner of a printing press I feel an obligation to use it for more than just commercial projects,” says Nicole Katz, the CEO of Paper Chase Press, of Infoshop, which launched at the end of February. “This might have to do with my grandmother’s influence,” she adds. Her grandmother was a political activist in pre-war Poland, and Katz has also worked with certain of Infoshop’s artist-contributors before. Katz moved back to Los Angeles in 2008 after a brief time in New York’s art world, to open an art space next door to Paper Chase, the press her parents founded out of their basement in 1976. Located on Sunset Boulevard in Hollywood’s seedy core, near a flamboyantly purple strip club called Seventh Veil, the press has a modest façade and simple logo: a scroll of paper unfurling. Katz and her husband and partner Kane Austin named their gallery Eighth Veil, since it would abut the strip club.

This was in the wake of the recession, though businesses began cutting advertising budgets even before the market crash, outsourcing printing to China. Katz’s father had bought a digital press, meaning to refocus his business on short-run, more intimate jobs, but he started contemplating retirement. “We were convinced to take it over,” says Katz. “It wasn’t until I came back to LA, that I realized what I’d been doing professionally in the art world was very much related to print.” Even as Eighth Veil quietly closed, she would be helping artists realize projects, curating images and objects, bringing creative people together.

“The transition was rough,” Katz recalls. Neither she nor Austin had business training, and they had to reach out to new clients who might benefit from their digital press, reimagining the pricing structure and market new services. “As we started assembling our own team together, it got better,” says Katz. “The print world is dominated by men. I knew I wanted a collaborative environment and that in my experience working with women fosters that. The company needed the freedom to take risks on projects that were out of the box for us, and having a team that is comfortable asking questions and working together is key to making that happen.”

The staff is currently sixty percent female, and as collaborative as Katz wanted it to be. “Now when people bring us their crazy projects, we can all sit down as a team and figure them out.” Their clientele, which often grows by word of mouth, remains largely local, though a number of clients come from New York’s world of creatives, too — they printed a catalogue of painter Sue Williams’ comically crass work for 303 Gallery in Chelsea in 2015. They also launched Paper Cuts, a stationary platform for which the press collaborates with its own clients to design and print notepads, letterhead, envelopes or cards. The Hollywood-based Hopewell Workshop made delicate notecards with quilting patterns on each.

“A lot of people we work with have ideas for printed goods they want to make, and we can say to them, let’s do it!” says Katz. “Our whole business is built upon collaborative relationships.”

Paper Chase takes its time on projects, and tends to work with people who value craftsmanship, but that doesn’t mean the press favors design professionals or galleries. “I whole-heartedly believe there isn’t a client out there who wouldn’t benefit from beautiful printing,” says Katz, who has found working at the press as stimulating as running an art space, if not more so. “We’re producing hundreds of projects each month. Each is so different than the last in its scope and clientele, it keeps everything really fresh.” She also likes producing physical products, and printed products can be easier than art objects to disseminate — posters in the Infoshop, for instance, start at $3 a piece. “I love that the process involves working with many different types of people, and the outcome is something that’s democratic and can live anywhere.”

 


RETURN TO THE HOME PAGE
VISIT CITIZENSOFHUMANITY.COM

Estevan Oriol

In the late 1980s, west side Los Angeles native Estevan Oriol began working as a bouncer at Los Angeles hip-hop clubs. One look at him and his first career makes perfect sense: He’s a tall and imposing man. After befriending rising local hip-hop stars Cypress Hill and House of Pain, he began traveling with the bands as tour manager in 1992. Over the following years, he would travel with the bands to more than 50 countries around the world, as well as each of the 50 states multiple times. This visually rich experience led Oriol to document the tours, first picking up a camera in 1995. He would soon count Mary Ellen Mark, Richard Avedon, Herb Ritts, Peter Lindbergh, Ellen von Unwerth and Araki among his influences and favorite photographers, but as he says, “At the beginning, it was just my dad”—Eriberto Oriol, also a photographer.

Working with musicians put Estevan Oriol in a unique position to photograph their fans, which included many tough customers from his home city. His portraits of L.A.’s gangsters captured the feel of the city like few others could, as did his images of their wives and girlfriends. Yet as he increasingly stepped into the role of a professional photographer, Oriol realized he would have to make his own efforts to stray from his newly established main subject—other people wouldn’t do it for him. “I never thought like everybody else thinks: that if you do fashion you can only do fashion, or if you do street stuff you can only do street stuff,” he says. “I used to have an agent 15 years ago, and she’d only get me jobs doing stuff I was already doing. I’d tell her, ‘Hey, can I get on some of the big-money jobs? Why is it always the stuff that I already do already?’ She would say, ‘Oh, I didn’t know that you wanted to shoot celebrities!’ Well, in L.A., if you don’t shoot celebrities, you don’t eat. Everybody’s all caught up in who’s famous out here. If you don’t have that, you can’t get the attention of the big dogs.”

“People would say that they thought I just shot gangsters and hiphop,” Oriol continues. “I can shoot anything, though there are things I don’t want to shoot. I like documentary, street life, music, portraits, fashion, advertising, all of those things.” Oriol would not just be limited to photography, either. In 1992, he had met a fellow lowrider car aficionado who went by Mister Cartoon, and by 1995, around the time Oriol was picking up a camera, the two were business partners on an apparel line, Joker Brand Clothing.

 

 

The clothing line grew, and Oriol began to direct videos for musicians like Everlast, Cypress Hill, Xzibit, Eminem and Blink-182. Oriol and Cartoon expanded their partnership as part of S.A. (Soul Assassins) Studios, working broadly across disciplines, including movies, commercials, music, fine art, and fashion. He and Cartoon even recently launched Sanction’d, a line of waxes, chrome cleaners and other car care products.

Yet the core for Oriol has always been photography, particularly in film. “I try to work on film as much as I can,” he says, “at least for whoever can afford it. It looks better.” Oriol typically works with classic cameras like a Pentax 67, or a Canon AE 1 to create his high-contrast black-and-white and saturated color images. Because of this, many of his models, who rarely pose for anything other than digital, sometimes have concerns. “I shoot girls,” he explains, “and they always tell me they want to look perfect, and are concerned about it because they say I don’t do any editing. Well, back in the day ‘editing’ meant you had 30 rolls of film and picking one or two shots off each roll. Now, ‘editing’ means photoshopping and making something real look fake. To me, the real looks better. I try to pretend like there’s no such thing as Photoshop and take a good picture.”

Citizens of Humanity recently brought Estevan Oriol in to document their laundry facility, where the denim fabrics are given special washes to create the brand’s unique look and feel. “I like shooting processes,” says Oriol, “not just the final product. Whether someone is building a car or anything else, I like to shoot how it gets there. So shooting the story of the jeans was cool. They have all the old-school machines in there to do the washes, and it was cool seeing what I guess you would call the analog machines, as opposed to the new digital techniques. For me, I like seeing the old-school way, the stuff made by hand.”

 

 


RETURN TO THE HOME PAGE
VISIT CITIZENSOFHUMANITY.COM

Miss Van

Miss Van is a twin, but unlike inseparable street painter peers Os Gemeos or How and Nosm, she and her sister weren’t a lifelong team. “I was always the shy one, drawing all the time,” Miss Van says, “and she was more social, talking with people.” As teens, she and her sister moved away from one another to lead separate lives. “People compared us all the time—we were ‘the twins’ all the time,” she recalls. “I really needed to have my own identity. I started to paint in the street at this moment when I split up with my sister, when I was 17.” Rebellion, pink hair and graffiti with friends in her hometown of Toulouse, France, followed. By 1993, she began to paint female figures in acrylic paint, gradually isolating them from other graffiti as stand-alone works. By the late 1990s, her painterly, brushed “poupées,” or “dolls,” gained notoriety, and spotting new poupées each week became a game for Toulouse residents, even drawing the ire of feminist groups who found her fleshy, pouting characters unsettling.

Moving four hours from her hometown to the then-graffiti paradise of Barcelona in 2003, Miss Van arrived just in time to catch its last era as a relative free-for-all. “I fell in love with the city because of the graffiti, but also because of the light, the sun, the people—I don’t know, everything.” In terms of painting in the street, things were possible in Barcelona that weren’t elsewhere— perhaps particularly so for the striking French woman painting images with a broader appeal than spray-painted graffiti lettering. “Every Sunday, I was painting somewhere—just choosing a place and painting—that’s why it was really different, and I managed to paint a lot this way, just improvising.” But it wouldn’t last: the historic center of the city, a classic locale for camera-toting tourists to catch photos of the blossoming street art scene, became the site of a crackdown. Street painters were forced to the city outskirts, and Miss Van could no longer improvise in the center. “There were a lot of people traveling to Barcelona just for graffiti,” she states of the newly clean Barcelona. “So it’s really a pity that they cleaned all the city, it takes away a lot from here.”

 

 

The crackdown changed Miss Van’s trajectory as well. “I stopped painting the street art, I wasn’t motivated to go out of the city to paint, and slowly starting to work more in the studio.” Those studio works found international success in galleries, and expanded into delicate media unsuitable for the streets. Her painting style, which needed to be clear and graphical in the street, grew looser, with just a few marks indicating the folds of a dress or an outstretched arm. Themes and tones changed as well. While her street works were often cheerful and cartoon-like, her gallery works grew darker and moodier, including full shows of girls drawn with their eyes closed, or with grotesque touches like smeared lipstick. “My work was always quite commercial, but not because I decided it but because it was attractive and feminine in the graffiti world. I have a dark side that I need to express also. I don’t want to just make a nice figure; it’s boring. I really like to go though some periods of time and see every show that I did and how my work evolved from one state to another. It’s still the same girl, but in so many ways, and now I’m more dark.”

 

 

Miss Van’s characters went from plump and pouting girls to anthropomorphic figures in masks. “I was working a lot with a masks,” she says, “and I was hiding my face, because I’ve been working solo for almost 20 years, and it’s hard sometimes to renew yourself and to find another identity and to have another vision.”

This progression and reinvention had to take place within the structure of an instantly recognizable career’s worth of work. “I wanted to find another way to show familiarity,” Miss Van states, “to hide, and mix it with an animal mask. I’m always with this duality of familiarity, delicacy and then the more bestial thing that we all have.” Yet throughout these changes, Miss Van keeps her work consistent—perhaps in no way more obvious than only painting females. “I think it’s because painting girls helps me to know myself better,” she explains. “It’s a relationship between me and my painting—we grew up together. There is always a really thin line between us. It’s my sensitivity, what I like or what I feel or the way I want to show something. It comes from me so it has to be related to me. Every girl can see themself in my painting.”

 

 

RETURN TO THE HOME PAGE
VISIT CITIZENSOFHUMANITY.COM

 

Posted in Art

Risk

As a boy growing up in New Orleans, Kelly Graval had a rock n’ roller and gang member uncle who had written his band name and gang—The Dukes—in huge letters with latex paint across a pair of bridges. Letters, written large and in public, would prove a lifelong fascination for Risk. “I moved out to California in seventh grade,” he recalls, “after being kicked out of school for basically quitting on my own and racing BMX and motorcross all day instead. The truant officers would chase me but they could never catch me.” By 1983, New York hip-hop was just starting to develop in Los Angeles. Kelly took on the name “Risk,” and immersed himself in the nascent graffiti scene, which was his ticket to branching out from his West Side neighborhood to East Side graffiti hotspots like the Belmont Tunnel and the Radiotron club. In 1985, Risk became a founding member of WCA (West Coast Artists), the leading crew of the first 10 years of Los Angeles graffiti.

Risk’s fluid lettering style looked graffiti-classic from the time he began to paint in the early 1980s, and his vibrant color sense was Southern California all the way. Because Los Angeles lacked the obvious canvas for graffiti—subway trains—Risk got creative, pioneering painting freight trains, freeway retaining walls and the large signs above freeways, which Risk’s partner Wisk would call “heavens.”

In 1988, Risk traveled to New York, where he made it a mission to be the first Angeleno to paint one of the city’s subways. The following year, in 1989, he and Hawaii-native Slick were invited to represent the United States in the U.K. at the Bridlington International Street Art Competition, while back at home in Los Angeles, Risk worked on the sets of movies and music videos, notably Michael Jackson’s “The Way You Make Me Feel.” In the early 1990s, Risk, Slick and Dante gradually developed their clothing line, Third Rail, becoming a pioneer in streetwear.

For Risk, who would enroll at USC to study art, all of these undertakings were part of a continuum. “When I dedicated my life to graffiti,” he says, “I dedicated my life to art. It didn’t matter if it was graffiti, I wanted to be an artist.”

While Risk always felt this way, he took his time in entering the gallery world. His first solo exhibition, Twenty Six, would not take place until late 2008 at Track 16 at Bergamot Station in Santa Monica—a building that he’d painted while abandoned 20 years before.

 

 

Shows and art projects would follow in rapid succession, none larger than the blockbuster Art in the Streets exhibition at the Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles, where he took a starring role by painting an actual RTD bus that greeted visitors at the main gate. Obtaining the bus wasn’t easy. “The people selling it were a large company who have large contracts with the city and state,” explains Risk, “and they started getting cold feet because of fear of negative press. I was frustrated and wound up hitting a bus in the yard.” Then, the exact opposite of what one would expect happened: “I got a call later from someone in the company that saw the bus and liked it, he had pull and arranged for the bus to be sold to me. Now, all I needed was more money—the bus was more than the allocated budget. A few of my friends at Citizens of Humanity heard the story, and a few days later, gave me check and said, ‘Make it happen.’”

In Santa Monica in 2011, Risk and developer Adam Corbin made a media event when Risk and a friend painted a construction façade on a multi-million dollar home that Corbin was renovating. The artists’ work simultaneously brought city citations and raised large sums of money for the environmental organization Heal the Bay. In the spring of 2012, Risk returned to the home with its renovations complete, and painted his vivid, bleeding colorwork again, this time directly on the house itself. He and Corbin then held a gallery show inside the home, where Risk exhibited his works in neon, paintings on metal license plates, and sculptures made in collaboration with many of Los Angeles’ leading custom car artists.

That multi-colored and bleeding colorwork Risk created was part of his Beautifully Destroyed series, in which he paints with industrial sprayers on surfaces ranging in size from curbside fire hydrants, newspaper boxes, and trashcans to enormous city walls. These works allow for a departure from lettering as pure colorfield painting, or to function as a background for it.

Recently, he took that bus painting to a new level, as he took on an entire classic double-decker bus in London’s Pleasure Gardens for a project for the 2012 summer Olympics. In Paris, as an ongoing project with Citizens of Humanity, for whom he has painted a large wall in Los Angeles, Risk flew to the City of Light to interview expatriate New York graffiti godfather Seen, paint the town and explore the Paris catacombs.

When asked if he ever thought he would be supporting himself through graffiti, Risk coolly answers, “Yes, from day one.”

 


RETURN TO THE HOME PAGE
VISIT CITIZENSOFHUMANITY.COM

Posted in Art

Deyrolle

When throngs of tourists descend on Paris each summer, they tend to flock to the classic attractions and monuments: the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower and l’Arc de Triomphe. But there’s a lesser-known, must-see spot that lies a few blocks from the Seine, hidden in plain sight, and it actually predates the Eiffel Tower by more than 50 years.

Deyrolle, a legendary taxidermy shop, was originally a tapestry weaving business, but became a repository of preserved animal specimens and zoological documents in 1831. It’s housed in a gorgeous, 18th-century mansion on the Rue du Bac, and soon after it opened, became a favorite stop for countless artists and eccentrics. Walking into Deyrolle, with its ancient wooden cabinets and prime-colored walls, is akin to stepping back in time. Visitors can roam through the store gawking at chicken skeletons, mounted butterflies, painted ostrich eggs, taxidermied wolves, and jaw-droppingly complex sea coral.

Deyrolle’s collection of animal paraphernalia has delighted and educated for more than 180 years. But far from being an unchanging library of bones, Deyrolle contains a functioning taxidermy operation. On its website, the store offers to preserve virtually any type of creature, but cautions, “if the animal has not been preserved in a freezer, it should be brought as soon as possible to the first floor of the store.” The business’ quirky, eerie charm has attracted discerning fans like Wes Anderson, stylist Carlos Mota and designer Delfina Delettrez.

 

 

These and other Deyrolle admirers across the world gasped in horror in February 2008, when word broke that a fire had swept through the shop, destroying and badly damaging 90 percent of the store’s priceless treasures. Deyrolle was immediately deluged with donations (in both monetary and taxidermied form) and offers of assistance. Many leapt at the chance to pitch in— Hermes donated the proceeds from a scarf called “Plumes” to the shop, and artists like Nan Goldin donated photos for a charity auction held at Christie’s that year. The store underwent massive renovations and officially reopened in fall 2009.

Deyrolle’s reopening coincided with the release of Laurent Bochet’s photography book 1000°, which features shots of the fire’s aftermath: charred animal specimens, ash-covered cabinets and the faces of some of the firemen who helped put out the blaze. In 2011, Deyrolle proved its enduring cultural clout when it collaborated with Opening Ceremony on a line of animal-printed apparel. The shop also served as a shooting location for Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris, a film in which Owen Wilson travels back to the Gallic capital circa the 1920s, and falls in love with the glamorous and antiquated version of the city. Since we can’t all travel to Paris circa the Jazz Age, a trip to Deyrolle—with its dreamy, bygone allure—may be the next best thing.

 

 

 

 

RETURN TO THE HOME PAGE
VISIT CITIZENSOFHUMANITY.COM

Lawren Howell

Behind-the-scenes videos accompany most Teen Vogue fashion shoots. In them, young celebrities usually talk casually and endearingly about childhood, their personal style (to whatever extent they understand it) and what it’s like to work with Scarlett Johansson or attend red carpet events. They speak as images of them in gorgeous, perfect clothing, posing and negotiating on set, move across the screen.

In a behind-the-scenes video from April 2012, actor Josh Hutcherson, who comes from Union, KY, and costarred in the Hunger Games, says he never attended a real prom. “I went to a homeschool prom once,” he says, “which, as exciting as it sounds, was a bunch of homeschool kids in Kentucky.” He’s speaking in a voice-over as we see him exit an art deco elevator with teenage girls in flapper dresses on each arm. He wears a Thom Browne New York jacket, white with black trim. “We went to the local church, and stood awkwardly while they played music and that was the extent of that.”

In another video from February 2012, 13-year-old Elle Fanning wears a red Valentino dress and stands on a mid-century modern deck with her hand on a glass door. She has a gold Oscar de la Renta cuff on her left wrist and you can see a misty view of the L.A. cityscape behind her. But what you hear her saying is, “She hates when I steal her clothes.” She’s talking about her older sister, actress Dakota Fanning. “Like that’s our number one fight, if I go in there and sneak or steal a shirt or something.”

“I adore Elle Fanning,” says stylist and fashion editor Lawren Howell, who, with the help of her assistant, chose Fanning’s red dress and Hutchinson’s classic dinner jacket, clothes that give the two actors sophistication without undermining their freshness. You don’t see Howell in either video—or, if you do, it’s so fleeting you would barely notice—but her hand is in each shot. Weeks in advance, she begins researching, collecting vintage images, paging through books of photographs by  Richard Avedon or Bruce Weber. She begins to construct a story that the shoot could tell—not a tight narrative, more a loose collection of scenarios and sensations. Then she collects the clothes and accessories.

“It’s like a scavenger hunt,” Howell says, of finding the right combination of prints and textures. “I work with the clothes for a week before the shoot,” she continues. By the day of a shoot, she has become intimately familiar with her material.But then everyone arrives—the photographer and his team, the celebrity subject—and careful planning can go up in smoke. “We all come together, and we all have different ideas. Just the word ‘sexy’ can have a different meaning to everyone,” says Howell.

“When I started styling on my own, I worried I’d never get any credibility if people didn’t listen to me,” she remembers. But she realized that wasn’t true. You didn’t have to be doggedly committed to your own vision to succeed in this field. You had to submit to the give and take of the process and know how to run with a brilliant idea that comes in the heat of the moment. Howell, who studied French and Art History at Vassar College, began working in fashion in 2004, when she got a job as assistant to the creative director for Kate and Jack Spade in New York. Before that, she had imagined herself working in the art world, but two Kate Spade photo campaigns had seduced her. In one by photographer Tierney Gearon, a child in a devil costume charms and teases his two, well-dressed,unconcerned parents, and another by Larry Sultan features a family that recalls The Royal Tenenbaums . The family members have a taste for minimal art and vintage, mismatched patterns and keep appearing in galleries and patios around New York City. “It was the perfect combo of art and commerce,” says Howell, who wanted to be part of that kind of savvy, sexy visual culture. She would stay at Kate Spade until she left to work at Vogue . First, she was editor-in-chief Anna Winter’s assistant then worked with stylist Phyllis Posnick, a woman known for her narrative approach and the 30 years she spent collaborating with iconic photographer Irving Penn.

“I learned everything from Phyllis,” says Howell, including how to navigate publicists and work with celebrities, skills that would become essential in 2006, when she moved to L.A. to become Vogue’s west coast fashion editor. “Instead of having a lot of designers, the fashion world in L.A. is completely centered around celebrities,” she explains. And while she still does shoots with models, who are used to submitting to visions of stylists and photographers, she probably works with actors more often. “It’s a different hierarchy,” she says, since the actor has as much sway as she and the photographer do, and they have to be involved and well-informed of each decision. “It’s almost like making a mini-movie,” says Howell.

She began freelancing in 2010, and often works with Sebastian Kim, one of her favorite photographers, and the one behind the Elle Fanning and Josh Hutchinson spreads. “The best photographers understand what everyone else does,” she says.  She may be talking about Kim, but the same observations could be made of her. “They understand that all the little things affect the picture.”

 

 


RETURN TO THE HOME PAGE
VISIT CITIZENSOFHUMANITY.COM

 

Merci

Opened in March 2009 by husband-and-wife team Marie-France and Bernard Cohen (of the children’s brand Bonpoint), Merci is laid out like an attic in a beautiful 18th-century townhouse. The 16,000 square-foot store bursts with treasures such as impeccably selected secondhand books, stylish furniture, designer exclusives and rusting trunks erupting with vintage garments. Leisure spaces include a cinema café that shows cult classic and independent films and a gourmet restaurant renown for its fresh, local ingredients and, according to marketing director Jean-Luc Colonna, “the best fondant au chocolat in town.”

Parked outside is the shop’s “mascot,” a dinky, vintage Fiat 500 with precariously piled household items strapped to its roof as if it’s about to move a family and all their worldly belongings. Re-painted and dressed each season, the car is a nod to the economically developing world where transporting huge amounts of goods on small vehicles is an artform and to where 100 percent of Merci’s profits are directed, making it one of France’s first charity shops or magasin solidaires.

Since its launch, more than 194,000 euros have been raised for the Merci Foundation with 134,000 euros given to charities in Madagascar via French building association ABC Domino. Funds have been used to build a school in the rural area of Ankilimivony with UN standard canteens to provide 900 children with a meal a day.

Managing director Luc Zeltner says Merci conducts “very serious follow ups to see where the money goes,” and is keen to point out all Merci Foundation volunteers pay their own expenses such as travel fees. Although he doesn’t believe all retail must have a philanthropic approach, he admits it makes “the business more meaningful and purposeful for the people working in the company.”

This coming October’s fashion week will see a high luxcollaboration with Tiffany, Roger Vivier and Courrèges, and by early 2013, they hope to have launched an online store with editorial content to bring the Merci mission to a larger audience. They also hope to do more pop-up stores such as those previously opened in Milan and Tokyo.

The success of Merci has proved two things to Zeltner: “That there is no crisis for those who have a strong conviction. And that the world is a small place and if you put together the right proposition, even if you are located in a unknown boulevard without windows on the street, smart customers from all over the world will find you.”


RETURN TO THE HOME PAGE
VISIT CITIZENSOFHUMANITY.COM

Les Catacombes

Twisting and turning beneath the pavements of Paris is a surreal world known as the catacombs. A series of tunnels, wine cellars and former limestone quarries, it’s one of the oldest, densest underground subway and sewage networks in the world.

It’s a formidable landscape. Pitch black. Cold. Terrifyingly narrow in parts. Some tunnels are filled with thigh high, ice-cold water. In others, fresh sewage pumps into them daily. There are chambers stuffed with the human bones of over six-million Parisians, their corpses exhumed from Paris’ overcrowded cemeteries in the 18th and 19th centuries and dropped into the city’s underbelly.

Despite these less-than-welcoming elements, a subculture of Parisians known as cataphiles are drawn into the tunnels. They emerge from manhole covers and grates bedecked in headlamps, rubber boots and caked in mud. The cataphiles range in age and occupations: Graffiti artists head down there to paint illicit tags; teenagers to party; goups of friends picnic at La Playa, a room large and airy enough for hanging out.

 

 

Not surprisingly, it’s illegal to go down there without a permit, but this doesn’t stop cataphiles from exploring the passages and tunnels to obsessive levels. Some mavericks take down diving equipment to investigate “black holes”—chasms of water nobody knows what’s at the bottom of—in order to map these forbidden chambers for their own personal gratification. There are maps available online, but they are often criticized for being wrong, out of date or missing information due to new discoveries.

The tunnels are not always safe and have been known to give way. A team of experts from the Inspection Générale des Carrières monitors them constantly, but as late as 1961, a collapse swallowed an entire neighborhood.

 

 

Despite these very real dangers, Berenger—a cataphile of two years experience who took Citizens of Humanity and legendary graffiti artist RISK on a tour of the tunnels—says once you go down it’s easy to become obsessed. “I cannot say how many times I have gone down. It feels like you’re discovering another world that ordinary people cannot imagine. I like to see the stones that support Paris, old tags and new, charcoal drawings that are 300 years old, and teenagers who are lost in every sense of the word.”

Like Berenger describes, the city’s history is imbued in the tunnels. Once upon a time, man and beast sweated over rock faces in the quarries. Farmers grew mushrooms down there, and during the Second World War, the French Resistance used them as did the German army. It was these layers—as opposed to the tunnels themselves—that made an impression on RISK.

 

 

“The thing that blew me away was seeing dates from a hundred plus years ago,” he explains. “It wasn’t even scratching the surface of how old some of the tunnels were. It was mind-boggling how many generations had passed through those tunnels, and how they have evolved over time. Those tunnels were used to execute people, secretly transport people, and now kids go there to explore and party.”

A one-off visit is one thing, but what kind of people fall in love with the catacombs and return again and again? “People who are curious enough to crawl down paths without any exits,” explains Berenger. “With patience and without fear, you can discover many interesting things.”

 

 


RETURN TO THE HOME PAGE
VISIT CITIZENSOFHUMANITY.COM

Posted in Art