Luxury magazine: February 2023

Cinematic perspectives

The figures of Japanese director Hayao Miyazaki’s animated films flit across the new Loewe x Howl’s Moving Castle capsule collection, alluding to an alternate reality where craft meets fantasy perspectives

FASHION DIRECTOR: Sarah Maisey
PHOTOGRAPHER: Dizy Diaz at Art Factory
MODEL: Ayesha at Art Factory
HAIR AND MAKE-UP: Gulum Erzincan at Art Factory

From bejewelled grills to gold medallions, jewellery has always been an intrinsic part of hip-hop culture. Selina Denman speaks to author Vikki Tobak about her latest book, which chronicles this decades-long love affair

From the simple gold chains sported by the pioneering rappers of the 1970s to the bold, customised creations of the 1990s and the bejewelled “sky’s-the-limit” pieces of the 2000s, the worlds of hip-hop and jewellery have always been immutably linked.

It’s a decades-long love affair that birthed dookie chains, nameplate necklaces, four-finger rings and bejewelled grills. “I’ve been telling stories with my attire and adornments for as long as I’ve been telling them with beats and rhymes,” rapper Slick Rick writes in the foreword to Vikki Tobak’s new book, Ice Cold: A Hip-Hop Jewelry History, touching on how clothing and accessories are as integral to hip-hop culture as the music itself.

Firmly embedded in the aesthetic, these adornments became physical manifestations of status, upward mobility and changed circumstances despite the odds. They told stories of ancestry, the self and the struggle, and acted as markers of allegiance and aspiration. They were much more than mere trinkets.

“My jewels are my superhero suits, an extension of my beautiful brown skin,” Slick Rick continues. “It’s a gift from ancestors who sat on thrones and reigned with rings and rocks the size of ice cubes.”

He writes about coming across a huge Libra pendant in the window of a jewellery store on New York’s Canal Street in the mid-1980s. He continued coveting the piece (even though he is a Capricorn) and with “time, patience, hard work and success” was able to walk into that shop nine months later and pay for it in cash. “Jewellery speaks silently but screams personality,” he says. “Displaying our opulence affirms the traditions and wealth of our culture.”

Tobak has spent the past 25 years writing about hip-hop, having started her career working for a music label before serving as Jay-Z’s first publicist and then moving into journalism. Her first book, Contact High: A Visual History of Hip-Hop, featured rare outtakes from more than 100 era-defining photoshoots, alongside interviews and essays from industry legends.

“When I was doing Contact High, which was a photographic history, you of course notice all the little sartorial details – the sneakers, obviously, and the clothing, by Dapper Dan and other very specific designers. All of that is very well documented. But the jewellery was there hiding in plain sight, at least in terms of a story,” says Tobak, who launched her latest work in Dubai during Sole Dxb in December.

“It was a natural time to tell that story. Next year is the 50th anniversary of hip-hop and when you think about what the jewellery started from in the late 1970s – very humble, little gold chains and hoop earrings for women – to what it has become now, in terms of its stature in pop culture and the world of luxury. It’s now a pop culture phenomenon, it’s now a luxury phenomenon and it’s a great come-up story.”

In 1980, Kurtis Blow donned six layered gold chains for the cover of his self-titled debut album, officially solidifying the link between hip-hop and jewellery. It kick-started an era of increasingly distinctive designs – remixed Mercedes-Benz and Rolls-Royce logos descending from giant gold chains; religious motifs, including crosses, angels and Jesus heads, reshaped into oversized medallions; memory pendants immortalising lost loved ones; and deeply personal pieces chronicling names, neighbourhoods, astrological signs, birth dates or crew affiliations.

“Certain gold link styles became instant street classics,” Tobak writes. These included the figaro chain, an alternating pattern of oval and circular links; herringbone chains, with their tightly woven, seamless designs; and, most famously, the Cuban link, consisting of thick circular or oval-shaped gold pieces.

In the 1990s, hip-hop moved out of the clubs and into the boardroom, birthing business moguls such as Jay-Z and Sean Diddy Combs. Jewellery became bigger and bolder, now laden with diamonds, gemstones and platinum.

In the mid-1990s, the original New York hip-hop jeweller Tito Caicedo created Notorious BIG’s first Jesus piece, since dubbed “the Hope diamond of hip-hop”. The Jesus motif has been remixed in myriad ways, by almost every rapper in existence, and remains a constant symbol of faith and success.
Chains emerged that spelled out artists’ allegiance and loyalty to their chosen record labels – perhaps most famously in the case of Death Row Records chief executive “Suge” Knight and rapper Tupac Shakur’s matching pendants, depicting the label’s logo in diamonds – an inmate strapped to the electric chair.

In the 2000s, as the commercialisation, influence and wealth associated with hip-hop have continued to expand, the stakes have grown ever higher. Tobak points to Kanye West’s gigantic Horus medallion and chain, worth about $300,000; Jay-Z’s 5-kg Cuban gold chain, priced at about $200,000; and Lil Uzi Vert’s Marilyn Manson chain, worth $220,000. Artists such as Pharrell, Tyler and Cardi B have become bona fide collectors, while A$AP Rocky arguably leads the way in terms of experimentation and subversion.
From the beginning, customisation has been key.

“The jewellers that worked with hip-hop, just like the fashion designers that worked with hip-hop, had to have a certain understanding of the hustle, the spirit of it,” says Tobak. “Hip-hop has this great tradition of customisation and remixing, of having things that nobody else has. The street was the runway and you wanted to stand out.

“So, even if they could afford it, they couldn’t just walk into Tiffany & Co, because they didn’t want the same things everybody else had. They wanted something that spelled out their name, or they wanted a mix of two links, like a Gucci link and a Cuban link.”

Dedicated hip-hop jewellers include Tito of Manny’s, Jacob the Jeweler and Avianne & Co, as well as more contemporary artisans such as Greg Yuna, Alex Moss and Eliantte, plus Icebox Jewelers, Ben Baller and Iceman Nick. “When the luxury brands fall short and don’t serve us, we create our own luxury,” Rick says.

Traditional luxury brands had a somewhat uneasy relationship with hip-hop in the early days, initially reticent about being associated with the genre. A watershed moment came in 2018, when A$AP Ferg became the first hip-hop artist to be named an ambassador for Tiffany & Co, with the brand featuring Jay-Z and Beyoncé in a campaign shortly after.

Tobak often gets asked why she would write a book that glamourises conspicuous consumption, by people who, she says, have missed the point. “Or, people will ask me, if all these rappers come from such humble beginnings, why would they blow their money on this?

“There’s a lot of coded language that people use when they talk about wealth for people that have not traditionally had it. There is a lot of judgment around people making money and breaking through these barriers,” she says. “It’s more about the person asking the question and what they view as the world order of capitalism. It means you don’t understand what it means to suddenly be in a position where you’ve transcended your circumstances.

“I think that’s a beautiful thing,” she continues. “And as complicated as it is, that’s the American dream. I think what this story does is force people to ask themselves – who is the American dream for? Who gets to have it? It’s a much more complex story than conspicuous consumption.”

“We get described as the quiet power house,” says Ian Griffiths, creative director of Max Mara. “I have been thinking about this quite a lot recently. It’s not that we don’t go for the wow-factor – but we go for the quiet wow.”

With its decadent materials and sophisticated cuts, Max Mara is far removed from the showy antics of many fashion brands. Instead, under the guidance of Griffiths, it continues to develop an effortless style that was first initiated seven decades ago.

Employed at the house for almost half that time, Griffiths is deeply familiar with what his customers want. He knows, for example, that she looks to Max Mara for well-made, timeless pieces that add polish regardless of the occasion, as well as unfussy separates that are skilfully tailored and elevated. And also, most notably, for Max Mara’s famous coats, which can be belted over any outfit for a touch of just-so chic.

The Max Mara coat is something of a powerhouse in its own right, especially in its signature, rich, honeyed shades of camel. Lifted from menswear and reinterpreted for women, it has retained the air of authority that gentlemen’s tailoring implies, with an added twist of je ne sais quoi. It is little wonder that Queen Rania of Jordan, Angelina Jolie, Meghan, Duchess of Sussex and the ex-speaker of the house Nancy Pelosi are all Max Mara devotees.

Griffiths is, by anyone’s terms, a fashion industry veteran. He joined Max Mara in 1987, having won a competition straight out of the Royal College of Art aimed at unearthing new talent, inadvertently gaining a job for life. While this seems unimaginable in the current fashion climate (and Griffiths jokes that one day the company will turn round and say “we got the wrong guy”), the designer and company are obviously a perfect fit.

“Scratch the surface and my design philosophy concurs absolutely with Max Mara’s. It’s all about designing for a woman you respect and admire, and that’s where we are both coming from. We are thinking about the person we are dressing, rather than thinking about Max Mara or about me, and imposing ideas.”

Forecasting that the middle-class woman would emerge as a force in her own right, Achille Maramotti founded Max Mara in 1951, to bring the chic of couture within her grasp. Seven decades later, his company has become a go-to for busy, professional women searching for timeless quality, proving Maramotti’s instincts were spot on. “He pinned his money on exactly the right woman,” Griffiths says.

The designer has always felt in step with Maramotti’s vision of catering to a discerning, demanding customer, and the years have brought a profound understanding of who she is and what she wants.
“The customer is like my best friend. You think of all the women I have known, starting with my mother, who either wear, or have worn Max Mara, and there are quite a lot of women in my head who form this composite image. I really do want the best for her.

“We talk about this woman and empowering her – actually I don’t like to say we empower, it sounds so patronising. We allow her to empower herself.”

Today, the Max Mara woman is more than likely to be a bona fide business leader and, as such, is looking for clothes that fit in with her life, yet demand little from her. Staples are elevated through luxurious materials into cashmere polo neck jumpers, silk twill shirts, plus mohair, silk and wool blazers. There are silk taffeta dresses and nappa leather court shoes, while the famous coats arrive in alpaca and cashmere.

Skilful tailoring and Italian know-how ensure every piece is flattering, while being perfectly in-tune with everything that has come before. Rather than reinvention, Griffiths favours subtle evolution.

For resort 2023, this translates as a knitted cashmere dress that is both snug and fabulously chic, as well as a cosy teddy bear coat, now with elbow-length sleeves – showing how restraint can be both modern and sensual. Nodding to, rather than embracing trends, is the Max Mara way, with the label preferring to hone its unique take on upscaled pragmatism.

Case in point, narrow skirts are fitted, but never restrictive and dresses come with pockets.
This attention to detail lies at the heart of what Max Mara does best – striving to make life easier for customers, while remaining in the background. This measured approach is a defining feature of the brand, Griffiths explains.

“As a company, Max Mara is low key and I as a person am low key, so you put those things together and you get very low key,’’ he says.

Having been with the company for so long, how does he stay inspired? “Do I find inspiration, or does it find me?” he asks with a laugh. “I think of Max Mara as being a narrative, and I often feel I am not writing the story, I feel I am uncovering it. I have had this conversation with friends who are novelists, who describe the experience of not feeling fully in control of the story, more of receiving it. That is how I feel about Max Mara. I look at each season as a new chapter and the story presents itself.

“It’s like if you are writing a book, there are characters you have met before. It’s not starting afresh every time, but it is this act of discovery that keeps me as curious to find out what happens next as everyone else,” Griffiths explains.

At the company’s headquarters in Reggio Emilia in northern Italy, narrating each chapter is aided by the remarkable company archive, situated a short walk from Griffiths’s office. Spanning more than three floors, this repository is filled with seven decades-worth of sketches – many with Maramotti’s handwritten notes – as well as fabric swatches, fashion shoots and more than 20,000 pieces from the Max Mara collections.

In addition, it has 8,000 important pieces by other designers, including Gabrielle Chanel and Yves Saint Laurent, as well as entire wardrobes donated by Max Mara devotees, including the late art dealer Holly Solomon, former Vogue Paris editor Carine Roitfeld and late Vogue Italia editor Franca Sozzani.

It also houses 4,000 reference books and 40,000 vintage magazines. Set up and still run by Laura Lusuardi, the fashion director of the group’s many labels, including Sportmax and Marina Rinaldi, she is gatekeeper to what is now regarded as one of the most important fashion collections in private hands, featuring more than 300,000 pieces.

Among the pieces in the archives are collections created for Max Mara by designers such as Karl Lagerfeld, Jean-Charles de Castelbajac, Narciso Rodriguez, as well as Domenico Dolce and Stefano Gabbana. Working anonymously, these names were never made public – and came to light only recently – because Maramotti believed a designer should never be more important than the brand.

“And he was right,” says Griffiths. “That’s why Lagerfeld was never revealed until a few years ago, when we started taking people around the archive.”
Another figure who features prominently is Anne-Marie Beretta, the French designer who worked with the house during the 1980s and created the famous 101801 coat, which remains a bestseller today.

Such a heritage could be overwhelming, Griffiths acknowledges, so now he searches for new perspectives with each visit. “Every season I find some new object I haven’t looked at before, or a new way of looking at something I have looked at before.

“Instead of looking at a garment, I will look at the sketch of it to understand more about what maybe Largerfeld or Beretta was thinking when they sketched it, that tells me something I don’t see in the finished garment. Or maybe it’s looking at photographs, interpretations of famous pieces by different photographers, that show me someone else’s take what on was being done at that time. There is always something that is new, and it’s always a reminder of where we are coming from.”

While the archive is a precious resource, Griffiths explains that it is important to never let it overwhelm the collection at hand. “There is a certain point at which I have to put it all back in its box, because it could be incredibly oppressive, this heritage, and impede you from exploring new ground, and we can’t do that – we can’t stop exploring.”

For autumn/winter 2022, this exploration delved into the work of the Swiss Modernist dancer, painter and sculptor Sophie Taeuber-Arp and was translated as Dada-ist pops of vibrant orange and yellow mixed in with a palette of neutral caramel, camel and taupe. For resort 2023, Griffiths looked to Portuguese poet Natália de Oliveira Correia, who inspired him to cast Max Mara’s first ever male runway model wearing – what else? – a camel coat.

The generational appeal of Max Mara is, Griffiths explains, that it offers women the same convenience that suits have afforded men – of being able to put something on “and having the confidence to forget about it”.

Clothes should never impose on the wearer, he insists. “That is the definition of elegance – being totally unconscious of what you are wearing. Wearing it with complete nonchalance. I always think there is a contract between me and [the Max Mara] woman, based on trust, and I have got to get it right. The one time she walks into a room and looks ridiculous, that’s when I have broken the contract.”

Blurring the lines

In a mixing of codes, feminine embroidery, silk and lamé are paired with sharp tailoring and leather for a twist on spring-time dressing

Fashion director: Sarah Maisey
Photographer: Mehmet Erzincan at Art Factory
Model Diana at Signature Element
Hair and make-up Gulum Erzincan at Art Factory

Impeccable suits, an eye for jaunty accessories, a make-do-and-mend approach and a signature piece of jewellery make the monarch an unexpected bastion of British fashion, writes Francesca Fearon

In 2009, Esquire magazine named Prince Charles, as he was then known, the world’s best-dressed man – and that sartorial flair has not deserted him. Judging by commentary from industry insiders in the months since he acceded the throne and became King Charles III, he is still considered a British style icon.

The irony is that while he has a fastidious eye for detail and always looks very relaxed in his clothes, he believes that his fashion status is purely coincidental. At the launch reception of London Menswear Fashion Week at St James’s Palace in 2012, he described his style, in some respects, as timeless.
“I have lurched from being the best-dressed man to being the worst-dressed man,” he jested. “Meanwhile, I have gone on – like a stopped clock – and my time comes around every 25 years.”

The new king’s clothes and shoes are made by the best in the land. He is loyal to the brands he likes and invests in quality. His bespoke suits alternate between the light, soft-shouldered silhouettes of Anderson & Sheppard on London’s Old Burlington Street and the crisper three-piece cuts of Savile Row’s Gieves & Hawkes, a tailor that has held a royal warrant since 1809, and has suited sovereigns including George V and George VI, and now Charles III.

His preferred style is a classic double-breasted wide lapelled suit in either dark grey or navy blue, and he also looks more comfortable than most British men wearing khaki and taupe-coloured tailoring during the summer and on royal tours.

“In the years that I’ve known him, he’s always cared about his suits, always been obsessive about protocol and dress codes, and always made sure he dressed appropriately,” Dylan Jones, former editor-in-chief of British GQ, wrote in The Sunday Times in September last year.

“He was always on our annual best-dressed list as he was a genuine example of British style; not just a style that played well at home, but importantly a style that played well internationally.”

The monarch readily embraces local traditions while on his overseas trips, sometimes wearing different headgear, as well as full outfits, as seen on his visit in 2014 to Riyadh, where he donned traditional Saudi dress. There were printed tribal shirts for visits to West Africa and a 10-gallon hat and a dandy bolo tie playfully worn on a trip to Calgary in Canada in his younger years.

King Charles’s ceremonial dress is from Ede & Ravenscroft, also on the Row. His crisp shirts are made in nearby Jermyn Street by shirtmakers Turnbull & Asser and Emma Willis, while his shoes are handcrafted by Northampton shoemaker Crockett & Jones, although he has doled out royal warrants to fellow shoemakers such as Tricker’s and Benson & Clegg. His outerwear is from Burberry and Barbour (famed for the waxed coats that Charles wears while walking his Scottish estates or at Highgrove). Knitwear is, of course, Scottish cashmere by Johnstons of Elgin.

“Clothes hang well on him because he inherited his father’s rangy, wiry physique,” says Simon Mills, contributor to GQ. “It is a stealth wealth style of dressing that doesn’t pander to fashion trends but always looks effortlessly correct.”

Stephen Doig, men’s style editor, and assistant luxury editor of The Telegraph, says: “What stands out for me is that he actually enjoys clothes and takes a great deal of pleasure in them. It’s not purely functional, nor a chore with King Charles – note the detailed cufflinks, the perfectly corresponding pocket square and ties and the support of what he believes in, which is British-made.”

Doig points to the king’s subtle risk-taking in the form of pastel accessories (“I happen to know that he loves lilac”) and impactful checked suits. “He’s particular and considered in his approach, and educated in style a great deal more than most men.”
King Charles has expressed his enjoyment of pattern and colour, which he approaches with the mind of an aesthete, displaying a mastery of jaunty accessories. “I mind about detail and colour and things like that – and colour combinations,” he told British Vogue editor Edward Enninful in 2020.

One experience of royal patrimony was recounted by Willis following a royal visit by the monarch to her Gloucester factory in 2020. She has thrived in the male-dominated world of shirt-making for 30 years and counts Benedict Cumberbatch and Daniel Craig among her clients. Her Jermyn Street shop is a stone’s throw from the king’s London residence, Clarence House, and she remembers being approached by one of his dressers about six years earlier, who said his highness would like to try one of her shirts.

“So, I went to Clarence House and measured his royal highness for the first time, and we’ve been making his shirts ever since,” says Willis. “One of the things we specialise in is very fine Swiss cotton and he loves lovely soft fabrics.”

Of course, the number of suits, military uniforms, white tie and ceremonial outfits required to perform his duties, as Prince of Wales and now as monarch, necessitates an army of valets to oversee his wardrobe changes, which often occur several times a day. And, according to a former royal butler, there is a member of staff in charge of keeping his shoelaces pressed.

This attention to detail is something those studying the king have often remarked on. The man who played him in two series of the The Crown, Josh O’Connor, says: “Whenever he gets out of a car he checks his cufflink, checks his pocket and then waves. It’s the same movement every time.”

At a time when fashion is moving towards more casual attire, the king’s elegant turn-out is a boost for the bespoke tailors on Savile Row and Jermyn Street, who are feeling the pressure.

Gieves & Hawkes was put on the market after its owner, Hong Kong’s Trinity, was put into administration in 2021, and was acquired in November by Mike Ashley’s Frasers Group.

King Charles is devoted to beautifully handcrafted investment pieces and is always keen to fly the flag for the tailors he patronises, to publicise their craft. He embraces these traditionalists not because they epitomise luxury, but because their craftsmanship is, in his view, important. A few years ago, when the industry was facing a shortage of craftspeople, he helped establish a programme in traditional techniques for fashion students. Lest we forget, it was on Savile Row where Alexander McQueen first learnt his remarkable tailoring skills, as an apprentice.

King Charles told British Vogue editor Enninful in 2020: “Because I can find marvellous people who are brilliant makers of the things that I appreciate, and because of that, I try to keep them going for longer.”
Doig highlights how the monarch “passionately supports a make-do-and-mend approach that’s admirable, be it the suit he famously has patched on the side or the Barbour jacket mended time and time again. He conveys a message that’s singular to what he’s passionate about.”

This approach feeds in from his prophetic views on sustainability, which he was advocating long before the rest of the world caught on. In 2018, his interest in the circular apparel economy culminated in a partnership with the British Fashion Council to promote sustainability in the industry. Several years ago, King Charles also spearheaded the Campaign for Wool to bring the natural material back into fashion and help sheep farmers.

As a young man, the future king opted for a sportier style, whether looking raffish in a safari suit on royal tours or cutting a dashing look on the polo field in polo shirts, paired with white jodhpurs and, amusingly, a yellow sweatshirt emblazoned with the phrase “Happy Hermes”. Not the famed French brand, though, as it featured a drawing of Hermes, the British aircraft carrier.

One item, however, that the monarch is never without is his Welsh gold signet ring, which was inherited from the Duke of Windsor and apparently strikes an unexpected chord with Chinese students. Guy Burton, director of Hancocks, the bespoke and vintage jeweller in London’s Burlington Arcade, says:

“They love the traditional Britishness of it and arrive with photographs of King Charles with his signet ring and say they want one. It is extraordinary, the fashion model that he is. A style icon.”