The de­signer shares his daily sched­ule

Harper’s Bazaar (Malaysia) - - Bazaar -

8AM I sleep in my own black cot­ton box­ers. When I wake up I make a cof­fee and check e-mails. Then I hit the shower, with the TV play­ing any old black-and-white movie on mute and Julie Lon­don on the stereo. (The open shower is in the mid­dle of the bed­room.) I take a minute to in­dulge in shame­less preen­ing. I use Bi­gen Ja­panese dye for my hair, and Ae­sop for sham­poos and mois­turis­ers be­cause it’s the only pack­ag­ing I like. I would use lard if it came in a pretty bot­tle. It takes me min­utes to dress – I’ve worn the same black out­fit for years, like a pri­est. Or a pris­oner. I can’t imag­ine hav­ing to choose some­thing that I might sour on later in the day. My van­ity is pretty sat­is­fied by the gym; not think­ing about my clothes lets me fo­cus more on clothes for other peo­ple. And I like stick­ing with a de­ci­sion: I have a stack of iden­ti­cal crisp black shorts, a stack of iden­ti­cal soft black T-shirts, and a stack of iden­ti­cal black cashmere turtle­necks. I change shoes ev­ery few months. For travel, I carry my own over­size bags in black leather and black python. For day to day, I just use my pock­ets. I un­der­stand the ap­peal of want­ing to have all your stuff with you, but I kind of like the feel­ing of to­tal ex­po­sure and lib­er­a­tion. I used to wear sun­glasses as a bar­rier, but now I’m more in­ter­ested in re­cep­tiv­ity. And the beau­ti­ful bright­ness of the sun just isn’t enough of a prob­lem to wear some­thing on my face that I’ll just mis­place or sit on. But that’s just me. I do sell sun­glasses for peo­ple who like them. I wear the same sil­ver bracelets ev­ery day. I sleep, swim, and shower in them. Hun, my bet­ter half [Owens’s wife, Michèle Lamy], bought them in a mar­ket­place in Dubai. I don’t re­ally like ac­ces­sories un­less they’re slightly ridicu­lous. 9AM I live and work in the same build­ing, so I don’t have a com­mute. If I do have to go some­where, we have a van and driver, but I usu­ally take the Métro be­cause the van is most of­ten de­liv­er­ing fur to the store or shut­tling fur­ni­ture el­e­ments be­tween the ébéniste, the mar­brier, and the bronze foundry. (I do a fur­ni­ture col­lec­tion that we show in some of the Euro­pean art fairs like Art Basel and TEFAF Maas­tricht, and the Dubai de­sign fair. I come up with a few ideas, but Hun does all the magic.) Com­ing from LA, I never grew up with sub­ways, just cars, so the Métro holds an ur­ban dystopian glam­our for me. But al­most ev­ery­thing I need is within walk­ing dis­tance. I don’t usu­ally travel with any­one in the car; I need a lot of space around me, but when I travel with Hun, it’s an army of gym train­ers, dog walk­ers, as­sis­tants, and young artists. 9.30 AM My first con­ver­sa­tion of the day is with my Paris of­fice cap­tain, Sergeant Van­den­dust, who briefs me on what I have to get done. Then I speak to my CEO, Ele­gan­zarella, who gen­tly hits me with the prob­lem spots of the mo­ment. Next, I speak to Dr. V, my main as­sis­tant at the fac­tory in Italy. V is for vine­gar, old and bit­ter – her nick­name, not mine. I think she came up with that be­fore I could come up with some­thing worse. At least once a day I mum­ble to my­self, “A hun­dred years from now no one will care, so get over your­self.” 10.30 AM I’ll have some dry gra­nola around mid-morn­ing; I’m not re­ally a break­fast per­son. I love to read the blogs Scala Re­gia and AreaNeo. I used to love An Aes­thete’s Lament, but the writer Mitchell Owens (no re­la­tion) moved it to Ar­chi­tec­turaldigest.

“It takes me min­utes to dress – I’ve worn the same black out­fit for years,

like a pri­est. Or a pris­oner.”

com, so I look at it there now. Other than that, I check The The New New York York Times Times and The The

Busi­ness Busi­ness of of Fash­ion Fash­ion and the weird­est Tum­blrs I can find that keep get­ting shut down. I pre­fer e-mail­ing to phone calls – I like how thoughts can be re­con­sid­ered, cor­rected, and im­proved in an e-mail. Like an old-fash­ioned love let­ter. And in­struc­tions can be care­fully spec­i­fied and re­ferred to later. Am I ro­botic? Maybe. I think spon­tane­ity may be over­rated.

1PM 1PM I walk through the Jardin des Tui­leries to my gym, next to the Palais Garnier. I work out for an hour with hard­core techno play­ing full blast in my ear­buds. I used to have a trainer in LA, but now I en­joy the pri­vacy and fo­cus of do­ing it by my­self. I grew up buck­toothed, soft, and pear-shaped – hon­estly, if I can change, any­one can.

2.30PM 2.30PM Af­ter the gym I walk home and maybe stop in the park to an­swer some e-mails and see what’s bloom­ing or how the lit­tle duck­lings are com­ing along. Then I get home and have a de­li­cious or­ganic lunch that’s been de­liv­ered.

4PM 4PM Naps are a tool I use to pace my­self and not get over­sat­u­rated. I like hav­ing a minute to ab­sorb and re­flect and recharge. I feel that it pro­tects the best part of me and uses my en­ergy to its best ad­van­tage. It could be a phase I’m go­ing through, and I’ll be an out-of-con­trol ter­ror next year. My ideal day would in­volve be­ing in my sum­mer of­fice of a cabana on the Adri­atic work­ing and swim­ming and read­ing and nap­ping with­out an im­me­di­ate dead­line. Per­fect. I used to play mu­sic all the time, but as I get older the birds in the gar­den out­side are just so soothing and pure. But when I start prep­ping a show I usu­ally have Judy Gar­land or Dorothy Squires or Aretha Franklin play­ing, some­thing to get me in the zone. Then when my crew ar­rives it be­comes more en­er­getic, with Katie Got Bandz, E.S.G., and Black As­ter­oid. I also love sen­ti­men­tal show tunes. I don’t ob­serve week­ends or hol­i­days, so I go shop­ping when­ever I get the urge. My favourite places to shop in Paris are an­tiques stores. Ga­lerie Franck Laigneau has a care­fully edited se­lec­tion of Ger­man and Swedish Art Nou­veau fur­ni­ture and ob­jects. Ga­lerie J. Kugel has a grand “cab­i­net of cu­riosi­ties” vibe – Yves Saint Lau­rent used to shop there. Fancy. Ga­lerie Steinitz al­ways has the most sump­tu­ous booth at the Bi­en­nale des An­ti­quaires, the in­ter­na­tional fair in the Grand Palais. A few years ago they had two mon­u­men­tal 1800s mar­ble canopic vases that made my heart stop, so I re­served them. I’ve been hav­ing the house eval­u­ated by a struc­tural engi­neer to see where they can ac­tu­ally go. My prize pos­ses­sion is a Ge­orges Hoentschel urn that was part of the pavil­ion he de­signed for the Musée des Arts Dé­co­rat­ifs for the 1900 World’s Fair. I like elim­i­nat­ing more than col­lect­ing, but this piece just seems like an in­evitable re­la­tion­ship. Re­gard­ing books, read­ing Bev­er­ley Ni­chols is my com­fort food and ther­apy. He wrote a se­ries on gar­den­ing in the ’ 30s that’s about ev­ery­thing and noth­ing; I would put it on the book­shelf right be­tween M.F.K. Fisher and Co­lette. Oh, and E.F. Ben­son.

9.30PM Hun and I have din­ner at the cor­ner, where I gen­er­ally have a cheese­burger and choco­late cake. They fawn over her and ig­nore me – af­ter eight years they still think I’m her dim-wit­ted gigolo. But we have won­der­ful fam­ily din­ners at home out­side un­der huge old trees from the gar­den of the Min­istry of De­fense, which abuts our ter­race. We live in the mid­dle of Paris, but our neigh­bour­hood is so quiet, it’s like be­ing in the coun­try.

11PM I nor­mally watch the tail end of some­thing black-and-white on TCM to put my­self to sleep. If I com­mit to a movie, my favourites are by Satya­jit Ray, Ce­cil B. DeMille, and Ken Rus­sell. And Fritz Lang’s

Die Ni­belun­gen is an all-time favourite. When we moved to Paris I re-cre­ated the bed­room we’d had in our bunker of store­fronts off Hol­ly­wood Boule­vard. It’s a mono­lithic plat­form slab cov­ered in wool felt; it came from my Joseph Beuys fas­ci­na­tion. I asked D. Porthault to pro­duce sheets in my favourite grey, which I then also sell in my stores.

2AM Ev­ery once in a while we get the sud­den urge to go danc­ing, so I take a disco nap and wake up to get to the club when the mu­sic is peak­ing and every­body is lubed up and se­ri­ously danc­ing. We don’t drink any­more, so hav­ing an espresso be­fore go­ing out is a whole new deliri­ous high. I be­lieve that danc­ing is one of the purest and sim­plest ex­pres­sions of joy, and I feel a moral re­spon­si­bil­ity to en­joy it.

Rick Owens

Rick Owens Au­tumn/ Win­ter ’13

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