Attitude

FRANÇOIS SAGAT

Is that a baguette in your pocket or are you just happy to see us? We get up, close and personal with the iconic French porn star

- Photograph­y Ferry Van Der Nat Styling Tom Erebout Location Special thanks to Hotel Amour, Paris

Idon’t think it’s farfetched to say that to most gay men François Sagat is as famous as Lady Gaga or Jesus. His iconograph­y is certainly as well-known — the tattooed scalp, muscled physique, and a generous posterior that is more of a watermelon than a peach. Sure, he hasn’t had a number-one single with Ariana Grande like our blessed Lady G (yet) and people aren’t leaving books about Sagat’s nude scenes in hotel-room drawers as they do copies of the fictional retelling of the life of Jesus H Christ. But neither the Mother Monster nor the Messiah has had a career that has effortless­ly traversed pornograph­ic movies and arthouse film; nor can they claim to have been the lead in films by celebrated directors Bruce LaBruce and Christophe­r Honoré, which both premiered at the prestigiou­s Locarno Internatio­nal Film Festival in Switzerlan­d in the same year. And while countless millions worship at the altars of Gaga and the Son of God, neither deity has yet had sex toys made in the image of their genitalia. Sagat’s edge has allowed him to cross over into the fashion and style press, as his Attitude cover shoot by photograph­er Ferry Van Der Nat at Hotel Amour, Paris, attests, in which he finds himself dressed in lingerie, heels and, inevitably, little else. “I love the photograph­er, he was great. So nice,” says Sagat, when we speak on video call post-shoot. “I was naked all the time. It’s not a big change, I guess,” he adds, with a wry smile.

There’s something about the Sagat ‘brand’ that has allowed the actor and model to transcend being classed as just another gay male porn star, and move into the realm of art, blurring the edges of sex on screen while also embracing a feminine side despite a brooding, gruff exterior.

My first encounter with François Sagat was during HustlaBall weekend in London ten years ago, at an after-party in Vauxhall (some would say ‘chill out’), where he was hanging out with the gays. His cheeky humour came through in a way that his films haven’t necessaril­y allowed in the past, and he mixed comfortabl­y with the crowd, not vying for the spotlight as one might expect. Away from the image he has projected in scenes for porn studios Raging Stallion and Titan, Sagat is a man whose character is as offbeat as would be expected of a person who has relished playing an extraterre­strial undead monster in LaBruce’s infamous film LA Zombie. Stepping back from porn after his 2011 self-titled documentar­y film, Sagat returned occasional­ly in featured roles such as a Men.com Justice League parody with Manila Luzon in which he plays a horny homo Aquaman, and most recently, Monsieur Sagat, which features him engaging in reflective conversati­on and steamy sex scenes with porn heavyweigh­ts including Damien Crosse, Jake Bass and Max Adonis.

Today, Sagat, 41, lives a more placid life in Bordeaux, moving to the city three years ago after 20 years in Paris. “My life hasn’t changed in lockdown. I was already very used to being by myself, except when I was travelling,” he says, in a strong French accent. “The only change is that I’m not travelling any more, like everyone else.”

His new life suits Sagat just fine, and he is nearer to his mother and sister, with whom he has a good relationsh­ip. “I’m actually a very discreet person, very quiet. In my everyday life, I’m someone who is blending in in the streets. People won’t think twice to notice me,” says Sagat, highlighti­ng how his film persona and his daily humdrum existence couldn’t be further apart. “Even if I look very special in pictures, in the real world, it’s not always the same. I can look very arrogant the first time you meet me, because I’m very quiet. And sometimes when people are shy, they come across very arrogant. But when you start to talk to me, I’m easygoing. At least, I think I am. I just have this very cold face,” he shrugs.

“I can look very arrogant the first time you meet me, because I’m very quiet”

How would you describe your career?

It started in a classic way, in the US porn industry, although I never talked, because I didn’t really speak English back then, so I was identified as a very sexual object. And then later on people from fashion were interested in using me for campaigns and that’s when I started using my voice in interviews, and people got to hear me. My fans were, like, 50/50 split; some were very disappoint­ed that I was not the masculine beast they wanted me to be. I don’t see myself as masculine; I see myself as in-between.

When did you realise that your films were attracting a dedicated following?

I remember I started to play with genders. I still consider myself as a cis-gender guy, more or less, but I was not afraid to play with my femininity and be in heels or stockings or whatever. That was more interestin­g to me than the person that I was ‘supposed’ to be. The real change for me happened when I worked with the French director Christophe Honoré in his film, Homme au bain, and in the same year I did LA Zombie with Bruce LaBruce. That year was a big turning point for me.

Would you have done anything differentl­y?

I think I was a little bit too much into the porn career when I joined Titan Studios. Their movies were fantastic but they were very in control of my image, as opposed to Raging Stallion, the previous studio I was with. Titan was very protective, and I don’t say that’s a bad thing, but I feel like I missed some more fun moments because they were very corporate. I think I was also too obsessed about controllin­g my own image. Yeah, I missed the fun of it. If I had to do it again, I think I would have shot more. I don’t think I shot that much, really.

During your interview with Max Adonis in the documentar­y Monsieur Sagat, Max says that porn is something he always wanted to do, but he was afraid of what other people might think, and that for him there is something exciting about being in front of the camera. What did you love about filming sex scenes when you were working? What was the thrill for you?

Maybe it was about creating something I would never have been able to do in my personal life. But it’s not real sex. Maybe just a few moments of what you see, two minutes, is enjoying yourself, it’s like 10 per cent of the job. But I think it was the idea of designing a sexual image of myself that I had never really owned in my personal life, and maybe becoming afterwards more empowered with my body. Back then, I was versatile, or more bottom, in some ways, I was exposed to the harder stuff, like fisting and pissing, things I would never do in my personal life when I was young.

How has your career impacted your personal life?

I’m very recognisab­le, physically speaking, like, with my tattoo, so it is very complicate­d for me to keep a private life, which is fine because I haven’t really looked for a relationsh­ip, because people aren’t very interested in a long-term relationsh­ip with a guy like me. Otherwise, I would have to hang out with people from the same world, the same industry, and I tend to want to stay away from that a bit.

Do you regret that?

Actually, no, no. It is who I am now. I remember during the high point of my career, I was suffering a little bit from that. I felt more like a character than a real person. I couldn’t get out of my image. It was complicate­d. But I’m still single — it’s fine.

So you would say the person that you projected on screen is different from who you are in real life?

It is totally different, it’s someone else. But people don’t want that, they want me to keep the same persona, they don’t want to separate it. But also I feed everyone

“My fans were disappoint­ed I was not the masculine beast they wanted”

“I consider myself a cis-gender guy, but I was not afraid to play with my femininity”

on my social media, so you know, I can’t really say it’s a problem. I also play with it. It would be stupid for me to say I am suffering from it right now. I still put my ass on Instagram.

Before the pandemic, would you say that your sex life was affected by your career?

Yeah, definitely. People expect you to be a robot, the perfect partner, but porn is all about the editing that makes it magic. The reality is that performers are struggling to stay hard, or to make the scene work with two cameras, lighting and scripts to follow.

I guess there’s no kind of support, is there? Studios don’t look after a performer’s mental health. And today with things like OnlyFans there is even less of a support network.

People are always talking about “the industry, the industry”. I don’t think there is, like, a corporate group of people who are taking care of performers.

Sex can be extremely pleasurabl­e, and it can also be incredibly destructiv­e. Where on that spectrum is sex for you?

I have been borderline. I had my dark times. Three years ago, I was experiment­ing with a lot of hard stuff, and I was going through a lot of stuff. And I had to stop because of my mental health and wellbeing. I reached my limits. For me, I can have a lot of sex in a short period of time, or do nothing for months at a time. These last two years don’t count, because of the pandemic. But, yeah, I think I can be extreme. At the moment, I’m like a grandma, having a cup of tea and going to bed at 11pm. Also, I started very late, my first sexual experience was at 19, and I began to move very slowly into an adult sex life. It was very step-by-step.

In your documentar­y you also speak with Jake Bass, who says “fame can consume a person’s life, it can be poisonous, and fame through porn isn’t fame through anything else, and it can be hard to give up after a taste.” How do you feel about that?

I have been driven by fame, for sure — in my early 20s and into my 30s, I was very focused on my career. But I think I’m OK if I’m not visible for a while, if people think I’m old news, or someone says that I am a ‘hasbeen’, I’m OK with it. I’m less obsessive about it now. But I’m still into it, into the whole thing, I’m just not a megalomani­ac about that and what fame means to me.

You’ve managed to walk the line between art and porn in an edgy way, which very few porn stars ever achieve. You are somebody that could be shot by a fashion photograph­er, as you have for our cover, and it would be considered elevated.

It’s lovely to hear that. Thank you. For me, it’s very hard to hear your words, and I’m not being fakemodest, but I tend to forget what I did, and I just try to focus on the next thing. I really don’t think about my life in those terms.

You play with masculine and feminine without fear. A lot of gay men might worry how that would make them unattracti­ve to other men. How do you define your masculinit­y?

When you do that, when you choose to be very comfortabl­e playing with genders, you also choose your people, you define the people who are interested in accepting your experience. I never really cared about disappoint­ing people. That’s why I played with image. I’m OK to not be attractive to this guy or to that guy, it’s fine. There will always be people that will be up for it. People who have a lot of issues with their own confidence, they just don’t get it — maybe it’s that they’re not comfortabl­e with themselves.

You must see yourself as having a range of identities.

I think there’s variations. I always think about percentage. Sometimes I have my 50 per cent of femininity, maybe I’m more rough this week. The beard doesn’t make the man.

“During my career high, I felt more like a character than a real person”

Do you have any regrets about retiring from porn?

I think I was influenced by people. People were, like, “You should stop, you should try to do something else.” I chose another path to porn, I chose to put everything on the arthouse things, and it probably cost me a lot of money because all those projects are great, but they don’t pay.

When performers like Manuel Skye say you inspired them to do porn, how does it make you feel?

I mean, I love this guy. But it’s not an easy path to take. Once you start, even if it’s just one movie, you know, it’s like a tattoo on your head. It’s forever. Sometimes when young guys ask me whether they should try porn, I say, “Don’t.” It’s something that is omnipresen­t. Like on Instagram, if I want to share something great about fashion or art, people don’t really care; they just want to see skin and body, they only care about the sexiness. It defines you. It’s fine, but it can define you. And when you try to give your opinion about anything else, trolls try to slut-shame you and say you shouldn’t try to talk about this or that because you are “just a sex worker”.

In your documentar­y, you talk about happiness, how it’s not something you chase.

I think I am happy. I think I have, like, let’s say two minutes of happiness in one day, which is good enough. I don’t think I am a naturally happy person. It’s not a constant state of mind. We have different moods. I think happiness is a moment in life, like being enraged or being sad. I don’t think I’m depressed because I’m not like jumping-on-the-floor happy. And that’s why I hate when people are, like, “Oh, my God, you always look sad.” But when I smile and when I’m happy, it’s a very private thing. I don’t want to be cheesy online and pretend to be happy like so many people do today.

Would you say you are content?

You mean like satisfied, right? Yeah. I think my ego has had enough feeding. I think I’m satisfied with what I try to do. I think I still miss so many things, but from the little guy I was, I think I have done a great job. You know, I still want more, and I’m still frustrated in some ways, but that’s how human beings are made — you have frustratio­ns, satisfacti­on, distractio­ns. But I think I’m lucky that I managed to do something with what I had.

Tell me about your early life.

I was born in a little town named Cognac. It’s not far from where I live now. It’s a very, very, very small town. It’s better now. My school life was in the ’90s and we didn’t have access to the internet, so it was very complicate­d for me to know who I was back then, when I was 15 or 16. I had desires for men, but I tried to hide them. That’s why I didn’t have any sexual experience­s for a while. I was bullied in high school because I was kind of feminine and I was very tiny. I worked on my voice, but I had a very, very girly voice. I tried to be discreet, I didn’t want to be eccentric or whatever, but still people would pick on me because they saw that I was a little bit different. I had a great childhood and family, but I had the worst school years. It was horrible.

When did you realise you were different than other boys?

When I was with my neighbour and we started jacking off together. I was attracted to him, and I remember thinking that something is going on. I didn’t know what.

What did your family think of your sexuality and porn career?

My mum is great. She’s actually happy that she’s not going to be grandmothe­r or that I will have a difficult girlfriend.

Randomly, you do have one very famous relative — your cousin is Alison Moyet.

Yeah, we talk on Twitter. She’s not a direct cousin, but I know her from my father’s side. People were kind of gagged about it when she did a tweet a few months ago about it.

When did you first get your scalp tattoo, because it really defined you early on?

I started losing my hair in high school at 18; by 21, I lost it completely, like an old man. Back then, doing implants was too complicate­d. I was 23 when I had the courage to go to the tattooist. I remember I drew it for him with makeup. But I was not expecting the fame; it was just to cover baldness. It was not even a design; it was just an aesthetic. I wasn’t the first to do it because I saw someone in New York, a much older man, in the Chelsea Hotel with it. We had to do it in two rounds because I couldn’t stand the pain.

You have described your ultimate fantasy as having sex with yourself. What is it about that idea that you find exciting?

It’s the same as when you are 14 or 15 and you try to suck yourself off. This is the same feeling, trying to be in fusion with your own skin. Or even just kissing yourself. It’s also less risky, it is your own body. I think maybe it’s a very twisted thing. It doesn’t mean I’m in love with my image.

“I can have a lot of sex in a short period of time, or do nothing for months”

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 ??  ?? François wears briefs, by Rufskin, shoes, by Abra
François wears briefs, by Rufskin, shoes, by Abra
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 ??  ?? Francois wears jewellery by Schiaparel­li
Francois wears jewellery by Schiaparel­li
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 ??  ?? Francois wears jewellery by Schiaparel­li
Francois wears jewellery by Schiaparel­li
 ??  ?? François wears suspender tights, by Calzedonia
François wears suspender tights, by Calzedonia
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 ??  ?? François wears dress and briefs, by Transe Paris
François wears dress and briefs, by Transe Paris

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