CAMILLE ROWE

LIB­ERTÉ, EGALITÉ, SENSUALITÉ – IN­TRO­DUC­ING THE FRENCH BEAUTY WE’VE FALLEN FOR.

GQ (Australia) - - INSIDE - WORDS ADAM BAIDAWIP PHO­TOG­RA­PHY MATT IR­WIN

The stun­ning French model-cum-ac­tress is ev­ery bit a GQ girl.

In an age of mostly ho­mogenised beauty, it’s inevitable to grav­i­tate to­wards a form of sub­stance. And so it is with 26-year-old Franco-amer­i­caine Camille Rowe-Pourcher­esse – a dou­ble-bar­reled dar­ling who en­chants with no more than an over­sized (vin­tage) tee and a cheeky It Girl grin. Why? ’Cause girl’s got swag­ger (as some may say). She’s cool. It’s in­tan­gi­ble, but she wears it. And damn if she doesn’t wear it well. The rise and rise of made­moi­selle Rowe reads sim­ply: spotted sip­ping cof­fee in Paris’ Marais dis­trict, test-shoot, flown into high fash­ion with an al­most im­me­di­ate cam­paign for Chloé. She’s since mis­placed her clothes for Terry Richard­son and added ‘ac­tress’ to her CV in the for­get­table ef­fort Notre Jour Vien­dra. For­get­table for the script, if not for her per­for­mance (again largely sans vête­ments) op­po­site the brood­ing Vin­cent Cas­sel. We frst staked an in­ter­est in Rowe – who’s re­cently swapped Paris for New York – on read­ing an in­ter­view in which her re­sponse to the ques­tion, ‘Your favourite jour­ney?’ was, rous­ingly, ‘Or­gasm.’ And then we were lured into the world of her In­sta­gram – @fnger­mon­key. It’s an ex­cur­sion of flmic, Cop­pola aes­thet­ics (Sofa over Fran­cis), sul­try nudes, party-girl aloof­ness and French pops of lip­stick and nico­tine. Hell, Jean-luc Go­dard would be hard­pressed to fnd a more wor­thy, mod­ern muse. She’s the con­sid­ered, long-form re­portage to the click­bait of An­gels – a wor­thy an­ti­dote to all things fast, nipped and tucked. Take her in: eyes that change colour at ev­ery glance; soft, milky curves and a unique nat­u­ral con­nec­tion down the lens. Lit­tle won­der Dior came call­ing for its lat­est fra­grance, ‘Poi­son Girl’. “Funny anec­dote – Dad used to call me poi­son. What are the odds?” jokes Rowe. Slim. Cru­cially, though, this bi-lin­gual in­ter­sec­tion of el­e­gance and un­fussi­ness prefers the good things in life – biker jack­ets, Reese’s Peanut But­ter Cups, French pas­tries and the Bow­ery Ho­tel. “Es­pe­cially the back lobby,” she says, “Where you can smoke.” Un mo­ment – we’re just dig­ging out that old pack of Marl­boros. n

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