Early one morning in January, two men stood outside the former home of Serge Gainsbourg on the Left Bank. With their waterproof walking shoes and matching cagoules, I knew immediately they weren’t Parisians.
Frenchmen, we tend to think, are better dressers than everyone else because they care less than the rest of us. They are Gitanes chain-smokers perpetually clad in black turtlenecks and high-waisted pants, or so we’ve been taught by so many Gainsbourg-era album covers and French New Wave movies. In 1976, this magazine observed that wealthy Europeans were pouring into New York, and the French guys, by far, outdressed the Spaniards (in their barathea dinner jackets) and the Brits (baggy gray flannels or “balding”). The French didn’t seem to try as hard, the report noted, flashing knowing smirks in “excessively flared clothes on spider-monkey physiques.” Fifty years later, the reputation persists. So a couple of days before Paris Fashion Week Men’s, we set out to investigate the myth of the stylish Frenchman.
Over three days, 40 Parisians from all across the city — of different age groups and professions and body types and sartorial persuasions — visited a gallery on Rue de Verneuil, not far from Gainsbourg’s old digs, to sit for a series of portraits and nosy questions about their clothes. What we discovered about the Parisian Man is that, quellesurprise, he is not as nonchalant as we thought. In fact, he sweats every detail, down to his socks. His pocket square is invariably stuffed, not folded. His jeans are faded just so. He might own ten identical pairs of Dickies but also underwear from Charvet — boxers, not briefs. His suits, still high-waisted, still flared, are made to measure, sometimes ordered from a fourth-generation tailor who keeps his measurements on file. He is partial to a hand-me-down and knows his way around les puces. His sworn enemy is the moth. If you ask what he’s wearing, he is ready with the credits. Yet he registers an aversion to the “full look.” He spends a lot of time thinking about his hair, even when it looks unkempt. Actually, especially then. Call it vanity or a neurotic obsession with keeping up appearances — for the French, it’s good manners to dress well. They have a phrase for it: le bon ton.
27, actor, Montmartre
Where did you find this ruffled shirt?
It’s the most important piece in my wardrobe. I found it in a vintage store in Pigalle around ten years ago, and I was like, This is me. That’s when I started thrifting. I layer it over everything, like this shirt underneath, one of my most recent finds from the flea market in Saint-Ouen — they look like sisters. My jeans looked super-dark blue when I found them, but they’ve faded with time. You can see how loved they are. Flared is my favorite shape for pants. I like my waist to be very tight, like a dancer; it gives me a certain elegance when I walk. I’m very attached to my clothes. I have a lot. Even though I probably don’t wear 80 percent of them, I can’t get rid of them. I have four full bags in my mom’s basement. As you can imagine, she’s so annoyed. She’s like, “Get the fuck out.”
Wearing: All 1970s vintage except heart pendant from the 1980s.
48, artist, La Villette
Has your style changed over time?
I’m at an age where it doesn’t really work to be “too fashion.” I have other things to think about, to say, to show to the world. I have my work. I’m seen for these other things. What matters more is that I still have a nice face. I’m happy not to be aging too badly. That sounds very pretentious, but whatever. I’ll wait until I’m 70 to wear my Margiela Tabis and leotards again, my Comme des Garçons shirts with big stars and clouds appliquéd onto Oxford blue. Then I’ll be super-experimental. I won’t be gray and invisible. If I wore those things now, it would look like I was trying too hard to be cool. I would be judged by people like me. I wear things I can ruin because I’m painting all the time. Also, I never have a walk of shame when I come home because no one can tell where I’ve been when I’m wearing this uniform.
Wearing: White Hanes T-shirt, Comme des Garçons shirt, and coat from Saint Laurent by Hedi Slimane.
32, journalist, Montreuil
How does your body inform your style?
I’ve always been a skinny guy, and I never saw my body as something attractive. Maybe five years ago, I started, without pushing or pressuring myself, training more consistently, and I’m now more accepting and less critical of my body. I love wearing clothes that are fitted. My waist is the way it is, so I amplify it with high-waisted trousers. I just got these wool-and-denim trousers back from the tailor, so I threw them on to get out of the house as quickly as possible. They flare a little, so they work with the turtleneck, which is also fitted. It’s about creating a silhouette.
Wearing: Ear stud by P.A.M. (Perks and Mini), earring by Alan Crocetti, Longines watch, Persol glasses, Uniqlo turtleneck, and Arturo Obegero trousers.
56, designer, Montmartre
You seem like someone who lives in a suit. Do you ever wear sweats?
I am at a point in my life where I know who I am and what I want people to see. I’m always in a black, blue, or gray suit, usually double-breasted. I don’t want crazy things. When I see these peacocks everywhere layering, adding things, showing that they have a lot of clothes, I think, Ugh. Style is about minimalism, about taking things off. With fewer options, I can obsess over the little details. The kinds of blues or grays. I can play with width and shape. For instance, this is the third version of this suit. I started with a Hedi Slimane cut around 2012 — really thin sleeves, fitted torso, short jacket. Then, five years later, I said, Okay, I want something else. I made the torso straighter, the trousers high-waisted. And then, several years later, I changed it again to what I’m wearing now: a slightly flared pant, a large lapel, a really long jacket. I always wear boots. A suit can look corporate. But add a pair of Chelsea boots and suddenly you’re Bryan Ferry.
Wearing: His own label, Husbands.
34, designer, Pigalle
How long have you worn your hair this way?
I’ve always had long hair because of my mom. When I was young, she loved my long hair and I wanted to please her. She’s Vietnamese and Senegalese, and my father is a hundred percent French. My long hair just became part of my personality. But to be honest, it’s been my dream for a while to shave it. I want to be able to shower. I want to feel the wind. I hope I’ll do it one day.
Wearing: Gucci boots and his own label, Jacques Cartier Studio.
The way you’ve put yourself together is very formal. Where does that come from?
When I was in my 30s, I worked in banking, where dressing was fundamentally about fitting in. I had a lot of black, a lot of navy. Minimalism was the language, and if you spoke it well, you could still stand out discreetly. Leaving the corporate world gave me a lot more freedom, so I added dark greens and browns. The shape of my clothes got looser. I curate handmade objects: pottery, baskets, pieces shaped by hand. I promote an idea of France rooted in craft. My wardrobe naturally echoes that. I’m an introvert, but I’m already saying something with the way I dress — the fabrics I wear, the textures, glasses that frame the face, a discreet watch. Even fragrance matters to me: It’s about presence rather than display.
Wearing: Stewart Christie & Co. tie, bespoke shirt from Sartoria Napoletana, La Maubourg jacket from Scavini, and eyeglasses from Maison Bonnet.
Prince Michel D’Orléans, 84, artisan, 16th Arrondissement. Greg Kohler, 34, marketing director, Montmartre.
Prince Michel D’Orléans, 84, artisan, 16th Arrondissement. Greg Kohler, 34, marketing director, Montmartre.
32, musician, Montmartre
What’s your earliest fashion memory?
I was about 14 and I’d just bought myself a pair of Dr. Martens. I cut my jeans really short and wore a Ramones T-shirt, all trashy and dirty and worn. I went out into the street and it was the first time people were looking at me for something other than my missing arm. From then on, fashion’s been a great tool. Sometimes it’s helped me hide my body when I wasn’t really proud of it, and it’s helped me affirm it, to feel that, Actually, I am beautiful. I always wear over-the-top shoes. That’s my thing. And heavy coats. I love to have a huge thing on me and be naked underneath. I’ve done that many times, and it’s great. I don’t like to wear panties, either. My boyfriend thinks it’s weird, but I don’t know, I want to feel free. Why not?
Wearing: Ami vest over Maison Margiela top and Willy Chavarria pants over Comme des Garçons jeans.
My body can get very sore during the day because of my performances. I usually don’t want any constraints around my muscles and joints. When my body’s in pain, I will wear a hoodie and very loose shirts because I want to feel protected. When my body hasn’t been as challenged, I play with gender-fluid clothes, things tight to the skin like leotards and crop tops. I feel more secure in who I am in my 30s and how I see myself, and knowing that allows me to be more free in my clothing as well. People often tell me it’s interesting to see me dance because I have a very male body. The shape of it is very masculine, but my movement onstage is more on the feminine side, so I like the idea of playing both sides.
Wearing: Sapphire earring from Yannis Sergakis and Dior belt and pants.
51, designer and publisher, Pigalle
How much of your closet have you designed yourself?
You have to understand that the first hour of my day is totally created by me. My bedsheets, toothpaste, soap, even the coffee, are my own creations. I would love it to be 24 hours, but it’s not possible. So I try to wear my own clothing designs most of the time. First, I have a rule: no plastic, no polyester. I only wear things that come from nature. When I make clothes, I put comfort first. The jumper I’m wearing is alpaca and silk. The wool is exactly the same thing as our hair. You have to clean it with keratin. People use very heavy soaps, but you should wash your clothes with shampoo. I have a huge knitwear collection, hundreds of pieces, and we’ve had moth attacks. It’s a war. I used to wear suits and ties. Sometimes I see a photo of myself and I don’t like it, so I change everything. It’s happened many times in my life. I wake up one morning and say, “I’m done. I will change again.”
Wearing: Glasses and sweater from his brands Grand Spectacle and Die Drei Berge and pants by Needles.
55, writer and filmmaker, Belleville
How did transitioning change your relationship to clothes?
I grew up in a very Catholic normative Spain in the 1970s and ’80s. My mother was a dressmaker. She had this fantasy of dressing me as a girl, and I was constantly fighting with her about it. I went to a convent school where we had a very feminine uniform, and I would always wear trousers underneath my skirt so that when I went out, I could take the skirt off and be in trousers. When my parents weren’t at home, I would immediately go into my father’s wardrobe and start trying things on. When I started transitioning at the age of 35, something very funny happened. I started wearing things that I would previously have considered too feminine, too delicate. Earrings. More color. Being more assertive in my masculinity and my transness actually gave me more freedom. Before, I wore everything three sizes too big. After transitioning, wearing things became much more enjoyable.That’s why I’m less interested in fashion than in style. Fashion, in the industrial sense, I find mortifying. The speed of it, the number of collections each year. I think one collection every ten years would be beautiful.
Wearing: Secondhand Comme des Garçons and COS shirts, Carhartt work trousers, and sport jacket by Alessandro Michele for Gucci (a gift from the designer).
73, retired restaurateur, Seventh Arrondissement
During the heyday of your restaurant, Davé, when all the designers were regulars, did any of them give you free clothes?
Yves Saint Laurent and Pierre Bergé gave me a lot of clothes, but I only kept one piece: a ribbed green top from Saint Laurent with a lace-up front that still fits me well. I gave the rest away to young friends who couldn’t afford clothes. I was also close with Karl Lagerfeld. I’m one of the few people who could be friends with both Karl and Yves at the same time. I was very lucky. They would come to me to ask and complain about each other. I was in the middle, just listening, never repeating. I always used to say, ‘No gossiping, no gossiping.’ Yohji Yamamoto also gave me clothes because I modeled in one show for him. My style has changed a lot because my body has changed. When I was younger, something tight was beautiful. Now I prefer to hide myself a little more.
Wearing: Necklaces made of seeds from market, 1960s printed silk scarf, crochet cashmere shawl from Dior, and Yohji Yamamoto top.
“I don’t remember,” designer, 16th Arrondissement
This is quite the ensemble. Where did you learn how to put all this together?
I worked in fashion for many years, designing with Karl Lagerfeld at Chanel for 15 years. Karl taught me to be more secure in what I like and especially what I don’t like. I come from a bourgeois family. I was a very good-looking guy when I was young, extremely good looking, but I didn’t realize it, so I wasn’t daring. I was more classical. My father used to get me suits from Anderson & Sheppard. But when I met Karl, he made me wear all kinds of things because he was changing the moods for his collections. I was lucky because I started working very young, and I was going to all these big parties in Paris given by the Rothschilds, by Alexis de Redé, by Raymundo de Larrain. That environment, that way of dressing, of behaving, also influenced me deeply. I looked at all these people, so chic, so rich, so elegant, and I wanted to look like them.
Is there anything you wear every day?
I was very close friends with Claude Lalanne. Each time I had dinner with her, she would give me a little flower she had made. She really spoiled me. Now they cost a fortune.
Wearing: Ushanka from China, vintage Cartier watch, Claude Lalanne brooch, Hermès belt, Charvet tie, pashtush scarf from India, Brooks Brothers shirt, pocket square and pullover from Turnbull & Asser, Viennese velvet jacket, and A.P.C. jeans.
Hugo Sauzay, 39, interior designer, First Arrondissement. Lorenzo Cifonelli, 56, tailor and creative director, Saint-Germain-des-Prés
Hugo Sauzay, 39, interior designer, First Arrondissement. Lorenzo Cifonelli, 56, tailor and creative director, Saint-Germain-des-Prés
64, artistic director, Grands Boulevards
Does biking everywhere change how you dress?
I just tuck the leg of the trousers into my socks to prevent them from getting caught in the chain. I don’t really wear suits anyway. I feel more comfortable in a blazer with jeans, slacks, or corduroys, like what I’m wearing now. The jacket I’m wearing is by an old Milanese tailor called A. Caraceni, who used to take a room at the George V to do fittings with his Parisian clients. My father, Pierre Carron, who was a painter and also my professor at the Beaux-Arts, passed on a great deal to me in terms of taste. He would rewear things, mending them, repairing the edges, or finding creative ways to make his clothes last. As in painting, he knew the rules well but believed they were meant to be bent. He was elegant, yet sometimes he wore mismatched socks. He had a slightly distracted side, but deep down, he didn’t really mind.
Wearing: J.M. Weston shoes, Ralph Lauren pants, Comme des Garçons shirt, A. Caraceni sport jacket, Maison Gabriel coat, and Jitensha bicycle.
29, furniture designer, Strasbourg-Saint-Denis
This is not your only pair of Dickies. How many do you actually have?
I have ten different pairs. Same color, same size: 30–32. When they’re not as black as I like, I just get a new pair. I’m kind of monomaniacal about clothes. I work with bronze and silver to make jewelry and objets so I have to be protected when I’m using resin to make castings. You can usually just see my Dickies, my boots, and some rings. This ring is my gri-gri, as we say in French. My ‘lucky charm.’ I got it from a random market in Copenhagen when I was 14, and I never take it off. When I wear it, I feel like nothing bad can happen. My dad is the person who taught me the most about dressing. He’s the most minimal guy I know. He’s a landscape architect, and he always wears the same pants he works in. I feel more comfortable expressing myself with a simple fit that I repeat, repeat, repeat.
Wearing: Our Legacy boots, Dickies pants, and Dries Van Noten sweater.
42, actor, Sixth Arrondissement
What’s your uniform?
I’ve been traveling a lot recently, and in my luggage I usually have two pairs of jeans, two T-shirts, a pullover, a leather jacket, and lots of underwear. But mostly socks. I have a passion for socks. If you begin the day with a great pair of socks and boxers, then it’s a good start. My clothes need to be durable. And I need lots of pockets because I carry most of my life in them. I’m like the guys who climb mountains; they have all those pockets. I hate hiking, though. Some of my friends go to the mountains during the summer to walk. It gives me anxiety just to think about it.”
Is there an item in your closet with a wild backstory?
During COVID, I went mad for vicuña. I found a cream high-neck pullover selling for ten times less than it usually should on eBay. So I sent a message to the guy asking, “Where are you from?” And he said, “I’m a masseur in a luxury hotel in the south of Italy. And I was massaging a woman and she became in love with me and she offered me this pullover. But I’m never going to wear it because it’s very hot, so I’m selling it.” So I said, “Okay, I’ll buy it from you because I love the story.”
Wearing: Dior shirt and jeans.
75 and 72, artists, near Porte des Lilas
Is dressing alike what happens after 50 years of being together?
PC: We wear pretty much the same thing every day. I’m often in tracksuits or leather jackets; he’s in T-shirts and Breton sweaters. It’s comfortable for work and going out. Back in the ’80s, when we went out to Le Palace, we were much more eccentric. We loved browsing in the boutiques in Pigalle for ’70s clothes, like denim or faux-leather bell-bottoms covered in studs. And we often brought back funny T-shirts and quirky ruffled shirts from our trips to India, Morocco, and Thailand.
Do you also have matching tattoos?
GB:We started getting tattoos back when there was only one tattoo artist in Paris, a man named Bruno who worked in Pigalle. My first one was of two swallows; Pierre’s was a panther. He also has a small teardrop tattoo on his face, the names of our dogs and our parrot on his hands, a lion on his chest, and mermaids, sailors, and travel souvenirs all over. Many of mine were done in the port city of Le Havre, where I’m from. My back is entirely tattooed with a crucified Christ on a marine anchor.
Wearing:PC (left): Lion-shaped ring and Hoka sneakers (gifts from Blanchard), pendant from Mexico City street vendor, Ray-Bans, belt from Bangkok market, shirt featuring Commoy’s print, and vintage Alexander McQueen jacket. GB: Vibram shoes, Gucci sunglasses, kung fu pants, and Muji shirt.
My garderobe is like my art collection. I have a very intimate relationship with my outfits, and since I’ve been designing for a long time, I always keep a piece like a fragment of history. This is from my time working with Benetton. It’s a camouflage print, which is the base of my style. I’ve been using it for 50 years. I come from a very aristocratic military family, and the dark blue is one of their colors. In my other life, I am the Marquis de Castelbajac. We just celebrated a thousand years as a family. I am the chief of names and arms. I’ve always felt this duality. I have a long history but also this desire to be one of those boats that breaks the ice of the future. My identity is somewhere between chivalry and Jimmy Page.
15, student, Rambouillet
You went viral when you were photographed outside the Louvre after the crown-jewels robbery in an outfit similar to this one. When did you start dressing like such a grown-up?
Last year, I didn’t know what to wear to school for Carnival, and my mom suggested I go in the style of Jean Moulin, the civil servant and French Resistance hero. After that, I began wearing it to school once a week, and since that Louvre photo was taken, I wear it every day. One day, I would like to be a diplomat, like my dad and my grandpa, who have both worked for international organizations; my great-granduncle, too, who worked in New York in the early days of the U.N. When you dress like a gentleman, it makes people look at you differently.”
Wearing: Family hand-me-downs.
Bruno Frisoni, 65, shoe designer, Le Marais. Jean-Pierre Blanc, 61, artistic director, 20th Arrondissement.
Bruno Frisoni, 65, shoe designer, Le Marais. Jean-Pierre Blanc, 61, artistic director, 20th Arrondissement.
You work in Paris and Milan. How’s the style in each city different?
In Paris, people are more casual, more discreet. They don’t want to show off. In Milan, it’s kind of the opposite. So I’m somewhere in between. I like things that are casual but have a little twist, like this sweatshirt I’m wearing with cutouts. Before I came to Europe, I lived in Iran until I was 19. I was very serious. I played the violin. I was in a conservatory. I had a different life. I was supposed to become a musician, but then I became interested in design, so I came to study in Holland. I had very long hair. I looked like Beethoven. When I look at younger pictures of myself, I was more daring. I wore crazier silhouettes, fabrics, things that were more obviously ‘fashion.’ Now I’m calmer. I try to buy things I know I’m going to wear a long time.
Wearing: Nik Gallo sweater, Prada shirt, Dries Van Noten trousers, and Repossi earring from Antifer collection.
39, musician and filmmaker, Tenth Arrondissement
Has your height affected how you dress?
I’m over six feet tall. Sometimes I love being tall. Sometimes I hate it. It’s why I used to stay away from heels. I hated it when people approached me to talk about my height. It’s like, Why? I don’t like being brought back to how I look when I’m just trying to live. Now I love a little heel, and I’ve found shoes that really work for me. I’m also getting more into suits, tuxedos, tailored pieces. I think I’m just getting older. When I was younger, I had so many things I wanted to scream and I used clothing to be very loud. Style became my speech. I took every opportunity to experiment. I went to color first. That’s what I needed most. Growing up outside Paris, everything felt very gray, except when we went on holiday back to where my parents are from in Cameroon. At the same time, there were moments when I thought, I need to find clothes I can wear so I don’t draw too much attention on the Métro. Then I found a solution to not deal with weird interactions and wear whatever I want. I became much happier in Paris when I bought myself a bicycle.
Wearing: Glasses, shoes, and suit from Balenciaga Couture and his mother’s earring.
26, sommelier, Tenth Arrondissement
Tell me about your shoes.
I’ve had boots since childhood because they’re needed in country line dancing, which I’ve been doing since I was 4. I must have 12 pairs, including the first pair I bought with my own money. They’re the shoes I feel most comfortable in — I’m just used to them. In Frise, the village in northern France where I’m from, we used to put on Christmas shows. Dancing is still a big release for me. If I’m not feeling well, I dance. If I’m feeling good, I dance. I’m a sommelier by day, but dancing is my emotional outlet.
Wearing: Ring by Les Néréides, Rendel glasses, thrift-store culottes, Jean Paul Gaultier hat, his grandfather’s tie, and Acne Studios shirt, sweater, and boots.
34, singer-songwriter, 18th Arrondissement
Is this how all French musicians dress?
My style is intègré. I don’t have a word for this in English, but it means you don’t show different sides of yourself depending on where you are. I dress the same whether I’m in the studio or at a dinner. I write music about intimacy, loneliness, homosexuality. Stuff that’s really intime. I don’t want to be too far from myself. Clothes don’t make my personality; it’s my personality that makes the clothes.
Wearing: Coor sweater and jacket from the Frankie Shop, and Eme Studios pants.
36, fashion historian and curator, 11th Arrondissement
Do you always wear black?
I stopped wearing color when I was 11. I remember where I had this epiphany. I was in the Basque Country with my parents, in a car, in the countryside, surrounded by green. And suddenly, I thought, Okay, now I’m only going to wear white or black. You can’t really live in white every day, so I chose black; it was as simple as that. I was reading Edgar Allan Poe at the time and admired the dark romanticism of black clothes. I remember it was quite difficult at first because it meant changing everything. Slowly, quietly, I replaced my wardrobe piece by piece, until everything was black. I wanted to stand out, of course, but in a different way. So I created this wall, because black is really a wall you construct between yourself and others. And, I have to confess, wearing black helped me so much. I grew up in a homophobic background, and the black was also something I created for my family as much as for myself. It became a kind of armor.
Wearing: Beanie from Jean Paul Gaultier’s Vikings collection, turtleneck by husband Louis Gabriel Nouchi, vintage leather jacket, and Comme des Garçons pants.
67, interior designer, Seventh Arrondissement
What goes through your mind when you’re getting dressed in the morning?
I’m like an actor in a film — Cary Grant, Fred Astaire. Every day is a new scene, a new moment in the movie of my life. I dress every morning with that idea. And if I don’t like what I’m wearing, my day is destroyed. I was born in Paris, and when you’re born in Paris, you’re either rive droite or rive gauche. I was born on the Left Bank; my parents were intellectuals. I love this area because it’s very bourgeois and it’s like a memory of Marcel Proust’s salons. Or the novelist, Patrick Modiano, who writes about a Paris that doesn’t exist anymore. I don’t like being cool. I prefer being old-fashioned. I don’t like when everything is new. When everything is new, it becomes vulgar. When I buy something new, I leave it hanging in my wardrobe for a year before I wear it. It’s the same in decoration: You need new, antique, something in bad taste, something chic. A total look is impossible. Someone dressed head to toe in one brand, it’s not elegant.”
Wearing: Sébline shirt, Uniqlo turtleneck, and Maison Gabriel suit.
Pol Taburet, 28, artist, Montmartre. Emmanuel d’Orazio, 57, creative director, La Campagne à Paris
Pol Taburet, 28, artist, Montmartre. Emmanuel d’Orazio, 57, creative director, La Campagne à Paris
