I meet Jannik Sinner at a hotel in Monte Carlo. The day is gloomy, windy. Sinner shows up in tennis kit, a little intimidated perhaps, but with a ready wit. I tell him he seems taller than the last time we met. “Or maybe you, as you became older, got smaller,” he says.

On his wrist, he has his Rolex GMT-Master II, with a black-and-brown bezel. He takes it off so I can see the inscription on the back, celebrating his first Grand Slam victory, at the Australian Open in January 2024. That was when he beat Daniil Medvedev in the final. “That is how the most incredible year of my life began,” Sinner says.

Sinner is 23 years old. Since 10 June, he has been the world’s number one in the ATP tennis ranking: the first Italian ever to take the position. He is also the first Italian to win two Grand Slams in the same season; having won the US Open in September.

He is still young but it has been a long climb to the top. Sinner grew up in Sesto Pusteria, a village on the border between Italy and Austria. At home, his mother, Siglinde, and father, Hanspeter, speak German. When Sinner left his family at 14 to attend a tennis academy in Bordighera, near the French border—over 644 kilometres from his home—he spoke almost no Italian.

Now, he is a sensation in Italy—where tennis-school enrolments are skyrocketing, and beyond. His distinctive red hair and his rangy frame; his focus on mental health over the idea of “winning at all costs”; and his fans—the Carrot Boys—frequently sighted courtside, all make Sinner one of the most exciting personalities out of tennis. It’s easy to see why Rolex would want him as an ambassador.

“That’s a great source of pride,” Sinner says. “It’s important for me to work with [dignified] people who uphold a high standard of behaviour.”

The results speak for themselves. In addition to the Australian Open and the US Open, Sinner also triumphed in Rotterdam, Miami, Halle and Cincinnati this year, earning over EUR11m (about SGD15.6m) in prizes.

And yet, this has also been a year of huge disappointments. In May, a hip injury forced Sinner to retire from the Madrid Open. He missed the tournament in Rome. He suffered defeat by Carlos Alcaraz in the semi-finals at Roland Garros, and in the quarter-finals at Wimbledon by Daniil Medvedev. He missed the Paris Olympics due to tonsillitis.

But most of all, he had to deal with the suspicion of doping. On 10 March, at the Indian Wells tournament in California, and again on 18 March, he tested positive for less than a billionth of a gram of the banned anabolic steroid Clostebol.

He was suspended from tennis, initially for two days—4 and 5 April—before his suspension was overturned on appeal. Then he was suspended again, from 17 to 20 April. His defence was straightforward: the Clostebol, his team had discovered, had been contained in an over-the-counter spray that Sinner’s physio, Giacomo Nardi, had used to treat a cut on his own finger. When Nardi massaged Sinner, traces of the banned substance were inadvertently and unknowingly transferred to him. The ITIA (International Tennis Integrity Agency) accepted this explanation and cleared Sinner of any wrongdoing.

“It was a tough time,” Sinner tells me. “I couldn’t talk to anyone about it. I couldn’t vent or get help. All the people who knew me and watched me play understood that there was something wrong with me. I spent sleepless nights because even if you are certain of your innocence, you know that these things are complex. Everyone immediately told the truth and that allowed me to play. But at Wimbledon, on the court, I was white. And even afterwards, my feeling with people was fearful. I went into training in the Cincinnati clubhouse and thought: How are they looking at me? What do they really think of me? I realised who my real friends are.”

While it seemed that the affair was closed, in September, WADA, the World Anti-Doping Agency, announced it was appealing Sinner’s case, asking for a disqualification on the grounds of fault or negligence. This, again, throws Sinner into uncertainty, for between three and six months. Yet the spirit is firm, and the game is unaffected. In October, he reached the final of the China Open in Beijing; in November, Sinner clinched victory over Taylor Fritz in the ATP Finals in Turin.

“I have grown so much this year,” he says, “Both mentally and physically.”

ESQUIRE: How do you explain your ascent to the top?

JANNICK SINNER: The results you see now are not sudden. They are the fruits of the hard work we have done over the past two years. I am the son of a chef, and I know that you don’t start cooking a good dish in a few minutes. You study, understand, try and try again—then the final dish will be good.

ESQ: What was the biggest thing you learnt on the court?

JS: Tactics. It is important because it can allow you to adjust a game that is not going well. When [former Italian tennis pro] Simone Vagnozzi came to my team, he gave me seven to eight pieces of information per game. I honestly didn’t understand anything. He told me: “Every now and then, you [need to] make a slice.” But I didn’t know how to do it, so we made a lot of changes. It’s a shot [that] I don’t even do technically correct because I hold the racket with two hands.

Still, I [now] feel more confident with it. Simone is good because we [have a lot of discussions] and he doesn’t impose rules on me. He asks me to be more fluid [in my serves like] touching the ball in the right way, which also means spending less energy.

ESQ: How do you think you can improve?

JS: In the US Open final, I didn’t serve well. That can happen. But that is a shot for which there is great room for growth. I’m convinced that, no matter how much you practise, you always have to deal with a bad day. But it’s important to be able to vary your shots, to feel more confident when going down to the net, to work on your bunt, to have a different feel for the ball.

ESQ: Can you describe your style to someone who knows nothing about tennis?

JS: It’s a mix between solid and aggressive. I struggle more defensively. In fact, I try not to go into defence. My tennis is versatile, but, for example, I still don’t know how to play the net game well. A player who has made me grow a lot is [Daniil] Medvedev. I had never serve-and-volley [but] he forced me to practise that to [to gain an advantage in beating] him. Against some players, I have to do more of a long backhand. In tennis, you learn from your relationship with your opponent. The real question for the tennis player is: how do I get into the opponent’s head? If you guess the answer, things in the match change.

ESQ: Amid all this chaos, how do you maintain your composure?

JS: Accepting myself. I have matured; I understand myself more. It may sound silly but getting to know yourself is fundamental. I worked on it a lot with [sports psychologist] Riccardo Ceccarelli. During the game, it’s easier for me—I forget the mistake easily. During training, on the other hand, I quickly look for improvement. That is wrong. When I started to admit [my flaws], I made small steps moving forward.

ESQ: Does having a winning mentality change you as a person?

JS: No. We always talk about results. For me, they are the consequence of what you express on the court. When you are at a high level and the body holds up, you don’t have to question yourself because the results will certainly come. My family understands me and my team understands me, maybe even better than my parents. I find my peace of mind with them. We live in hotels, planes; we travel all the time. They allow me to be the [man that] I am and understand what I need.

ESQ: For example?

JS: Simple things, such as indulging some of my passions. I love driving. It makes me feel great. Alone, isolated; I put the music on and every now and then, I’d [turn off the music to] hear the engine and I get charged up.

ESQ: Your girlfriend is fellow tennis player, Anna Kalinskaya; what has she added to your life?

JS: I don’t think anything has changed. Having a girlfriend is something that either makes you feel good or makes you feel bad. I want it to be something that feels very natural, [something that] comes into my life normally. I can’t afford to change as a player or as a person. That hasn’t happened so that’s why it works.

ESQ: Does nothing affect you?

JS: It’s not easy to play when there’s a personal tragedy. Knowing that my aunt Margith, who did so much for me as a child, was dying, certainly affected me.

ESQ: Do you ever reflect on the fact that you are the most successful Italian tennis player ever?

JS: You won’t believe it but it has never been a goal of mine to be the most successful in anything. For me, I place more value on what kind of person I am; what kind of people I surround myself with; what degree of trust I can have in them. I don’t believe that if you win, then you are good, and if you lose, then you are not good at all. Each of us has our own talents. The luck lies in finding a way to express them.

ESQ: Yes but being the champion changes things, doesn’t it?

JS: You face a lot more pressure. But I really believe that there is no money that can replace being healthy and living your life surrounded by people you love.

ESQ: The great football player Alessandro Del Piero once told me: “Losing makes me sick.”

JS: I am more of the belief that you are either winning or learning. For me, losing often to Novak Djokovic taught me a lot. It’s good for you; it wakes you up. In football, you might play against Ronaldo and realise you need to prepare better next time. But when is the next time? In tennis, we have more opportunities to make up for it.

ESQ: What did you get wrong this year?

JS: Tennis is important, but I didn’t spend enough time with the people I love. I have to find time for that because some things pass and never come back.

Photography: Philip Gay
Styling: Nik Piras
Grooming: Gianluca Grechi using DEPOT – THE MALE TOOLS & CO.
Lighting Assistants: Carlo Carbonetti and Leonardo Galeotti
Styling Assistant: Marco Visconti
Production: Sabrina Bearzotti

HENRY SEUNGYUN YANG: I came to Singapore two years ago, after Samsonite offered an opportunity for us to move from Hong Kong.

ESQUIRE SINGAPORE: Why? Did you not like Hong Kong?

HSY: I loved it. It’s a wonderful city that’s geographically close to every other country somehow. It’s closer to Korea than Singapore, which made it easy to fly back home from. There are Samsonite factories in China and they are now also looking to Southeast Asia—Malaysia, Indonesia, Vietnam—so here I am. But my family is happy in Singapore, and if they are happy, I’m happy.

ESQ: Are you going back for the holidays?

HSY: I just got back from Hong Kong actually. I go to Korea only once a year because flying with a baby [sighs loudly] for six hours can drive anyone crazy. Now, I do love my kids, but they can be quite naughty and don’t like sitting still for six hours.

ESQ: They are girls, yes? Do you have any preference for the gender of your children?

HSY: I don’t have a preference. The second girl was delivered in Singapore, while the first one was born in Hong Kong.

ESQ: When did you start wanting to be a designer?

HSY: Honestly, I never thought much about design back then. I was like any other kid, who loves going outside to play. I think every designer and artist starts out the same way: by drawing something and then finding out that they’re having fun doing it. My parents didn’t really say anything to dissuade me so I kept on drawing.

ESQ: That’s cool.

HSY: Yeah. If you know Korean parents you’ll know they aren’t usually this liberal. They will be like: you’ve got to be a doctor; you have to be a lawyer; study hard. But I was lucky that my parents were open to what I could do. I did study hard, mind you, but I didn’t go out of my way to be a scholar.

ESQ: Did you attend art school instead?

HSY: A couple of my friends suggested I should go to art school or something. When I got into university and it came time to select a major, I thought I would be a painter. I spoke with my art teacher at the time and she said, why don’t you be a designer because they earn more money? It’s hard to survive as an artist. So, I took her advice and studied industrial design. I eventually got a job in Hong Kong.

ESQ: What did you work on?

HSY: Back then, I designed phones, conference systems, cameras... it was fun.

ESQ: Do you still paint?

HSY: Well, I’m a bit busy with my kids these days. I do draw for them though, and that’s actually really fun.

ESQ: Are you guided by some sort of design philosophy?

HSY: I honestly don’t know. I’m not a super designer. I’m just normal. I don’t have any deep philosophical insight into this. However, the environment at Samsonite is such that we gather a lot of feedback from the market because our main aim is to design for people who travel. And when you focus on the people who use our luggage and bags, you push yourself to deliver user-centric design. I guess that is the key to how I work.

ESQ: Is getting feedback from marketing conducive to what you do?

HSY: We have regional offices across the globe. So, here at the Asian office we design for people in this region. Similarly, the US and Europe offices design for their respective demographics. We design separately simply because people’s lifestyles and travel habits are different around the world.

ESQ: Can you give us an example?

HSY: The European luggage and bags are more colourful and sporty. Even the businessmen in Europe tend to go for more casual bags, more colourful bags. The design vibe is expressive. But in Asia, consumers prefer minimalist designs. Colourwise, they go for black or navy or something neutral. In the US, they like luggage that’s more feature-driven. It’s utility over appearance for them. I’m talking broadly about the majority of the consumer base now. We handle a wide range of Samsonite products.

ESQ: Do you also have to talk to the department behind the tech?

HSY: Of course. That’s actually very important. We have to be updated on the latest tech all the time. That’s why we have a strong product development team on site and they will brief us on the advancements. The marketing team, design team, the product development team will sit together to discuss what models will be released. Marketing can talk about upcoming trends and results of market feedback; the PD team wants to reveal a certain feature or new material. And we, the design team take all that data and come up with designs.

ESQ: Do you like that sort of restriction?

HSY: Every designer needs to work with limitations. Without limitations, that’s art. So, sometimes when someone gives me carte blanche to do whatever, I’ll be like, I don’t know what to do. It’s always good to have a guideline, a limitation. I prefer to have that. It makes it more interesting. You need the input and whole mindset of others to make the job successful.

ESQ: You designed the Unimax Spinner and it won the Red Dot Design Award.

HSY: I’ve no idea why we won it—I didn’t get to talk to the judges so I don’t know [laughs]. But like I’ve said, this is one of our visions at Samsonite in terms of brand image and DNA. Samsonite has all kinds of designs—minimalist, explicit, fun, colourful... we have everything, but what is Samsonite’s DNA? That is the starting point.

We had a line called EVOA—same texture, no groove, very clean design. It was very successful. We believe Asian people prefer minimalist design. So we start with that, and then we say let’s improve on it. [Takes a Unimax Spinner; points to features] We put in more features like a front opening; a brake system; the Aero Trac Whirl Suspension Wheel... Normally, you’d have the logo on the front of the luggage but we’ve added the logo on the aluminium corner protector instead, where you can still see it when you look down.

At the time, in order to get a seamless design [that has curves], you’d need to mill and bend the piece, and this was an expensive process. We decided to postpone it until we managed to create that aluminium bar and corner protector. For our future product line, we’ve now managed to overcome the limitations and found a way to mill and bend multi-directionally. I think only Samsonite can do this.

ESQ: Is there a particular product you’ve done that you’re proud of?

HSY: [Points to the Unimax Spinner] This would be it. ESQ: What about something that’s not Samsonite?

HSY: Before I joined Samsonite, I worked for a company called Kohler.

ESQ: Ah, okay.

HSY: There was this toilet called Numi. I quite like this product. Very proud of it, in fact. The initial brief was: what if we can make a supercar version of a toilet? Like a Ferrari. It sounded funny but I was quite ambitious. Ok, let’s make something cool. So, the Numi was given voice control, a lot of lighting options, seat temperature, sensors that know if it’s you or someone else...

ESQ: Oh? Does it have bespoke settings for individual users?

HSY: Oh yeah! You can set it up for five or six people. When you enter the bathroom, the Numi will make a sound and light up, the seat cover rises and you sit on it. So, your pre-programmed temperature and wand position are adjusted for you.

ESQ: How does it know it’s you?

HSY: It knows you by your height and weight. There’s a sensor there. And if you want to flush, you can just say, hey, Numi, flush. When it plays music, the lighting changes... it was quite a crazy project but our team loved working on it.

Funny thing is even, though the design is done, the project remained stalled when I left. They were still working on fixing the features and that was done with a year ago. I worked on Numi for three years and left Kohler about six years ago, and it went on for another five years but they launched it. Outside of Samsonite, I feel really proud of Numi.

ESQ: Is music part of your process?

HSY: That’s a good question. Music is part of culture, am I right? So, I believe it does help. But you’ll need to experience the culture that the music is from to actually see something different.

ESQ: What is this lens that you peer through?

HSY: Even though I’m way past teenage, I still like listening to rap and hip-hop. My wife is always laughing at me, oh, you’re not a child any more, you know? Why don’t you listen to classical music or something like that?

ESQ: The luxury market is trying to infuse street culture into its products and marketing.

HSY: I feel quite weird about that because the hip-hop that I was into back then was kind of niche. Back in the day, no one really followed hip-hop. A lot of Korean parents didn’t really like it, but it appealed to me. Now, hip-hop has become super popular and every brand is doing streetwear, and promoting their wares with modern music that feature hip-hop elements.

ESQ: It’s gone mainstream.

HSY: That is why it’s hard to say that I’m into hip-hop music now, because I don’t want to be part of this mainstream. If I tell people that I’m into hip-hop, they’d think I’m just following a trend, and that couldn’t be further from the truth.

ESQ: What is that one piece of design that you wish you had done?

HSY: I like Fukasawa Naoto. He’s an industrial designer who did work with Muji. I like his philosophy. One of the things he said that really impressed me was that a product doesn’t need to stand out. It needs to harmonise with your life because you see it every day. That’s why his design is very minimalist. That’s a pretty strong message as an industrial designer.

Of course, I don’t really do it that way. I still like colours but I respect what he has built during his design life. I like Virgil Abloh as well. He’s gone now, sadly, but what he’d done for the fashion industry was quite amazing. He started as an architect but he’s done awesome stuff for Nike and Louis Vuitton.

(Salehe) Bembury is another designer I like. He also started out as an industrial designer. Ah, Errolson Hugh as well. He’s crazy good. I wish I could meet him one day.

ESQ: How do you stay creative?

HSY: One of the best ways is meeting people, eating good food, having fun, travel.

ESQ: That’s basically, just living.

HSY: [Laughs] Yes. Can I show you something? [Takes out a Streamlite Neo model] You see the clean design, right? But if you looked inside... [shows a vintage pattern], I found the design from the Samsonite archives. We have a black variant of the pattern as well.

ESQ: So, this and the EvoaZ and Major Lite are the next models we can expect from Samsonite?

HSY: We are still in discussion but we need to cater to different opinions. It’s up to marketing. I’ve no idea. This takes time but this is how we work. I’m ok with it. No harm waiting, we’ll see what happens. But if the project stalls too long, then we’ll lose the chance to launch it.

ESQ: Like the Numi.

HSY: That’s right. [laughs]

ESQ: What’s the next big thing in design?

HSY: Sustainability.

ESQ: That’s every company’s buzzword.

HSY: Yes, but we need to figure it out. Using recycled material, do you think that’s sustainability? I don’t think so. I think it’s more than that. It’s about the cycle. Using recycled material in the product is the easy part but that doesn’t tackle the root problem. There’s something more to this and I can’t put my finger on it just yet.

Oh, but this is too serious. Maybe, the next big thing is luggage for space travel, who knows? Maybe it’ll be a combination with a drone so you don’t need to carry your luggage.

ESQ: Or you can attach the drone to your bag and you can carry it so you can fly. Like Doraemon.

HSY: Yeah. Exactly. That would be fun. There are already people out there who can ride on motorised luggage. I’m not sure when a drone version would happen, but I look forward to seeing it.

In the infinite scroll of social media, between the blur of selfies, sponsored posts and pictures of brunch, sometimes all it takes is a single image to catch the attention of fate. For Jaylerr, it was a photograph from a modest jean modelling gig at a mall in the serene city of Chiang Mai. It was hardly the stuff of a star-making moment—a makeshift runway, amateur photographs and the casual poses of a 16-year-old at the end of his walk. Yet, through some cosmic design, those images found their way to prominent Thai director Ma-Deaw’s screen.

Ma-Deaw, the visionary behind critically acclaimed works like The Love of Siam (2007), saw something in those mall photos that others might have scrolled past. Perhaps he spotted something in Jaylerr that exuded the same ineffable quality he captured in his masterpieces—raw, authentic, uninhibited. Perhaps it is as a much younger Jaylerr jokingly recalls in a 2013 interview, “My good looks caught the attention of the staff”. Whatever the reason, a team was dispatched, a mother was contacted, and suddenly Jaylerr found himself cast as Oat in the 2013 coming-of-age film Green Fictions.

What Jaylerr found himself holding at 17 was the entertainment industry’s most precious currency: opportunity. It’s what young actors dream of, what seasoned performers still chase. But in the unforgiving world of show business, opportunity alone doesn’t guarantee survival.

The industry is strewn in what-ifs and could-have-beens, lined with the photographs of child stars who blazed across screens only to disappear into oblivion. Success demands a rare alchemy—the perfect collision of opportunity and readiness, and Jaylerr had both. He used his initial success as a launchpad to propel himself across the spectrum of entertainment from film, television and web series. The trajectory of his career may have started with a stroke of luck, but everything that came after was determination.

Perhaps this is why QOW Entertainment, his latest talent agency venture with partner Thanaerng, feels less like a business and more like a mission. Perhaps it’s his way of completing the circle—creating opportunities for others and showing them how to seize their own destiny, just as he once did.

ESQUIRE SINGAPORE: What drives you to act? Is it the love of storytelling, personal expression, or something else entirely?

JAYLERR: It’s something else. In my view, acting has become a major part of my life. I started young, and at first, it was just an opportunity I wanted to seize. But over time, it became something I truly fell in love with and grew deeply passionate about.

ESQ: What do you think draws international audiences to Thai drama productions?

J: I think a lot is coming together, especially with the rise of Asian entertainment. Thai drama is growing fast, and I believe we have strong production quality and talent.

ESQ: Are there any international collaborations or crossovers you’d be interested in exploring?

J: I really want to collaborate with many artists. Over the last two or three years, I’ve explored a lot of works by Asian artists, and I think they’re amazing. There’s so much talent out there, like Yung Raja from Singapore, SB19 and James Reid from the Philippines, among others.

ESQ: Many international viewers watch your work with subtitles. Do you think anything gets lost in translation, especially when conveying emotions or humour?

J: In my opinion, something does get lost when we’re watching and reading subtitles at the same time. That’s why we often have to rewatch things to catch all the details.

ESQ: What is your favourite movie?

J: Forrest Gump.

As a kid who grew up on the outskirts of Chiang Mai, procuring and owning music was anything but easy. As with any adolescent that grew up with the internet in the 2000s, he resorted to downloading music illegally. However, after much wrestling with his musical conscience, he ended up doing the right thing. With only 1,000 baht to his name and a burning desire for music, Jaylerr made his first legitimate purchase on the Apple store—Kid Ink’s My Own Lane. It was here where he committed the proverbial “sin” of judging a book by its cover. What he thought was just a pretty album cover introduced him to hip-hop, a genre that would quietly shape his artistic DNA long before he knew that it would.

The beats and rhymes of My Own Lane planted seeds that would take years to bloom. Once Jaylerr found his footing as an actor, music was a direction he found himself exploring. He was invited to join the nine-member boy group Nine by Nine.

Though short-lived, it caused something to stir in Jaylerr's musical memory. Between everyday life and performances, he found himself closely observing his groupmates who rapped. What started out as a tentative question of “Can I try?” evolved into late-night writing sessions, countless hours of practice and hip-hop listening sessions. He would pour everything he absorbed into “Empty King”, a collaboration with his former groupmates Paris and Captain under the “Human Error” project. This would be the first song ever composed and written by him (Insert Q-Tip nodding in approval). This creative liberation led to Jaylerr x Paris, a duo where Jaylerr could fully indulge his hip-hop side. Now, as a solo artist at 28, he’s no longer the guilt-stricken boy who could barely afford one album. The restraints have fallen off, leaving an artist with both the freedom and artistic integrity to explore every corner of his musical identity.

ESQ: Between music and acting, which feels more personal to you? Do you find that one feels more like an extension of your true self?

J: Both feel really personal to me. Acting has become personal because I’ve been doing it for so long, while music is personal because it allows me to express my true self.

ESQ: What’s your favourite song?

J: “Limbo” by Keshi.

ESQ: Aside from being an artist, is there anything you’ve been interested in developing but never had the time to pursue?

J: I really want to develop my music production skills, and learn to play the piano. It’s on my list, but I haven’t had time to pursue it yet.

ESQ: What’s one hobby or passion outside of acting that keeps you grounded and helps you recharge creatively?

J: Night drives. I don’t know why, but most of my creative ideas come when I’m driving at night. Sometimes I have to stop the car to jot down ideas that pop into my head.

The blur of streetlights, the quiet of the night, the world rushing past windows. It makes sense that night drives get his creative juices flowing, it’s this sense of movement that seems to spark something deeper within him. After all, staying static and stagnant is hardly the environment where unique ideas are born. Perhaps this is why travelling to different countries seems to inspire Jaylerr as well. As he ventures into unfamiliar sights and different environments—whether he’s walking on the streets of a foreign city or simply observing the way people live, Jaylerr absorbs the nuances of each place.

ESQ: Where’s somewhere you have travelled that has impacted you deeply?

J: Kood Island in Trad, Thailand. It’s a very quiet and peaceful place.

ESQ: How do you balance your creative process when travelling, whether for work or leisure? Do you find it easier to focus on music or acting while you’re on the move or when you’re settled?

J: I don’t have any trouble being creative because the places I visit and the people I meet always inspire me. But when it comes to focusing on music or acting, it’s definitely easier when I’m settled.

ESQ: What are some of your must-have essentials when you’re travelling?

J: Earbuds, analogue headphones, my phone and perfume.

ESQ: How has visiting other countries changed your worldview?

J: Experiencing new cultures while visiting other countries always broadens my perspective.

ESQ: Do you ever get homesick?

J: All the time. I’m the kind of person who gets stuck in places and the past.

This cover story with Esquire Singapore feels emblematic of the journey Jaylerr has taken—not just across physical borders, but across the boundaries of artistry itself. In the end, maybe there’s no real difference between his travels and his artistic evolution. Both are about forward motion, about finding new territories to explore, about the courage to venture into the unknown with nothing but instinct as a guide. Travel broadens the soul but it is home that is ultimately the anchor.

Photography: Chee Wei
Creative Direction: Izwan Abdullah
Fashion Direction: Asri Jasman
Art Direction: Joan Tai
Styling: Kelly Hsu
Hair for Thanaerng: Panithan Summa
Makeup for Thanaerng: Yothin Chuaysri
Grooming for Jaylerr: Sukwasa Khadphad
Photography Assistants: Thanakit Meecharoen and Thanakorn Kantaponthanat
Producer: Ratchada Tubimphet

It’s likely you didn’t notice the effect. But if the last time you visited your doctor they spent a little more time than usual with you, there’s a good chance you felt somewhat better afterwards. “Doctors tend to be very time-pressured these days, but even just a few extra seconds can do the work,” says Liesbeth Van Vliet, assistant professor at the Department of Health, Medical and Neuropsychology at the University of Leiden. “Just sitting down or making more eye contact can make the difference. It seems that the more you like your doctor, the more empathetic the doctor is, the better the patient feels after their consultation”.

Indeed, while doctors have long been cherished by patients for their ‘bedside manner’, Van Vliet points out that what lies behind this is something of a mysterious concept. She’s part of the team at the university’s new Center for Interdisciplinary Placebo Studies, created to research a phenomena that you may have heard of, but not quite understand: the placebo effect. That’s when there are positive healthcare results but these results are not attributable to the technical medical aspects of their care. You can, for example, give someone a pill that is chemically inert. It can’t work pharmacologically, and yet work it does.

While there is now a considerable push to find out how the placebo effect operates in clinical practice it suggests that there is more to the interplay of mind and body in the body’s healing and the patient’s experience than has long been appreciated by Western medicine. While some of those investigating the phenomena say it likely operates at some intersection of epigenetics, neurobiology and psychology, it seems to be primed by a combination of the relationship between doctor and patient, the patient’s expectation—“if we are encouraged to expect a pill to work better, it will,” says Van Vliet—and conditioning, much as Pavlov’s famed dog could be primed to salivate by the ringing of a bell, once it had been conditioned to associate the sound with being fed.

So the rituals around seeing a doctor, in developed countries at least—making an appointment, travelling for consultation, undressing for examination, being given a prescription, and so on—and the imagery that surrounds those activities—white coats, stethoscopes, clipboards, those pale green walls, that distinctive hospital smell— prompt the release of feel-good neurotransmitters with increased activity in parts of the brain related to mood and emotions, but also, more simply, ready us to feel better. It’s why, too, many of the rituals around ‘healthy living’—diet, exercise, relaxation and mental wellness and so on—may also provide a placebo effect above and beyond those behaviours’ measurable effects.

“The idea that all we take from that whole process is chemicals from pills is myopic,” reckons Kathryn Hall, assistant professor of medicine at Harvard Medical School and author of Placebos (MIT Press). “That’s why I, for one, feel better the minute I make an appointment with my doctor”. Just taking a pill—even a sugar or dummy pill—has a placebo effect. Having an injection—more invasive, more ‘medical’—has a greater placebo effect than a pill. It’s been found that pharmaceutical pills can be quietly replaced with a placebo with no change in health outcomes. Indeed, the fact that prescribed drugs often have minimal pharmaceutical effect in treatment anyway—as few as one in 10 according to one study—suggests that they are in some way working in concert with the placebo effect. Now the placebo effect is limited. It won’t, for example, cure cancer or fight a bacterial infection—drugs will be required for such very bodily, biological problems. The placebo effect has no part in unscientific New Age claims that you can simply think yourself better. But studies do suggest that it’s particularly beneficial in pain management, and in those many conditions in which stress is a major part: depression, PTSD, hypertension, fatigue, IBS, asthma, diabetes, other inflammatory diseases and so on.

"We have drugs that people have done amazing testing on, demonstrated how they work, shown them to be safe to go into humans and yet turn out to be no better than placebo. We have to ask why,” Hall insists. “What is it that we’re missing?”

Unfortunately, says Jeremy Howick, there’s a strong resistance— at best a grudging reluctance— within the medical establishment to accepting the placebo effect at all. “The placebo effect just can’t be dismissed as ‘not real’ any more. In fact, we’re building sufficient knowledge about it now that, I’d argue, it’s time for a revolution in the placebo effect that sees entrepreneurs rather than academics take its potential forward into implementation,” “argues Howick, professor of empathic healthcare at the University of Leicester, UK, and author of the recently published The Power of Placebos (John Hopkins University Press).

“Placebo studies were fringe just a couple of decades ago. They were considered wacky by the mainstream,” Howick adds. “The ‘placebo effect’ still gets used by some people in a derogatory way, in part because medicine has this undue focus on the bio- mechanical idea of the body—that it’s just a very complicated machine. Studies have gradually taken it into the mainstream”.

But not quite far enough, worries Hall. “I remember my mentor saying that when he would talk about placebos there would be nervous laughter. And still, not enough people take the idea seriously,” she suggests. In part that is because, as Howick points out, “it calls into question a lot of our drug-oriented medical training”. It summons up the spirits of woo-woo, of the mystical and metaphysical—all of which medicine, with its emphasis on the scientific method, is unsurprisingly dubious about.

And, certainly, there is much about the placebo effect that is, at the moment, hard to comprehend. Howick may argue that, since most of our thoughts are subconscious, the way our body reacts to a positive experience—for example, an unhurried appointment with a genuinely concerned doctor who isn’t time-pressured or over-burdened with form-filling, as so many are—has, ostensibly, little to do with what we consciously think about it. But even he still sounds surprised by the fact that “there’s a placebo response even if the doctor tells you that they’re giving you a placebo treatment”.

To make that clear: as if the placebo effect wasn’t already weird, it works even when you know, categorically, that there’s no active drug in your treatment; that is, if you take what medical types call an ‘open-label non-deceptive’ drug, the body is nonetheless tricked into thinking it’s getting some healing effect. You can even undergo what’s called sham surgery—in which there’s no actual surgery—and improve your shoulder impingement or knee osteoarthritis.

Likewise, while belief can play a huge part in the effectiveness of the placebo effect, studies suggest it works even with sceptics. Fabrizio Benedetti isn’t quite sure why this is so surprising—that we often knowingly experience the placebo effect in our everyday lives is self- evident, he suggests—and draws an analogy with watching a film.

“Movies are powerful triggers of strong emotional responses, ranging from love and tears to heartache and fear,” says Benedetti, professor of neurophysiology at the University of Turin Medical School. “These reactions take place even though the viewer is aware that everything is fiction. Considering human evolution and biology, this is quite surprising, as these reactions are supposed to have evolved for social interaction and survival. The fact that they take place during movie viewing even though neither social interaction nor survival is at stake indicates that emotional and behavioural responses can be elicited unconsciously— automatically—by merely simulating situations of real life”.

Yet you can see why the medical establishment might be wary of leaping to the same conclusion; the placebo effect might be why some "alternative" medicines—typically marginalised as lacking in evidence for their efficacy—actually work for some people, and so maybe shouldn’t be as dismissed quite so readily.

“There are quacks, of course,” Howick insists. “But perhaps the fact is that ‘alternative’ medicine practitioners are just better at evoking the placebo effect. Their philosophy aligns more with the science of placebos. It’s not that they’ve used crystals. It’s that they have given more time, attention and consideration to their patients and that has a positive effect. All this calls into question a lot of the fundamental tenets of modern medicine”.

There are also what Elissa Patterson, assistant professor of psychiatry at the University of Michigan, notes as being more political reasons why the placebo effect is still pushed back out to the margins—not least that powerful pharmaceutical companies are not overly keen on the idea that we could be using fewer drugs, despite our current over-use of them, with all of their side-effects to boot.

“People in medicine are really nervous about the placebo effect because they want ideas to be evidence-based. [The general public] tend to want to align with what’s scientific, too, because of that fear of snake oil salesmen,” she says. “I’ve seen people who get better and then hedge because they’re embarrassed, even ashamed by it being explained by the placebo effect. There’s the cultural belief that those who respond to it are weak or foolish. But evidence is often marketing material from pharmaceutical companies, so there’s no big push to champion anything that doesn’t make money, and the placebo effect doesn’t”.

The placebo effect has no part in unscientific New Age claims that you can simply think yourself better. But studies do suggest that it's particularly beneficial in pain management, and in those many conditions in which stress is a major part: depression, PTSD, hypertension, fatigue, IBS, asthma, diabetes, other inflammatory diseases.

As Kathryn Hall puts it, “Nobody wants to rock the boat”. That’s even though regulatory bodies won’t sanction a new drug unless, as is the gold standard for drug testing, it outperforms a placebo—sugar pills and the like—in blind trials. That can not only mean that certain drugs, long known to be of benefit in ameliorating certain diseases, can’t actually be used to this end, but also that some pharmaceutical companies are no longer trying to develop treatments for the likes of chronic pain and depression—two of the most widespread and debilitating medical issues—because beating the placebo effect is too expensive and too taxing.

Indeed, as Hall points out, the very fact that the placebo effect is built into drug trials makes such trials ineffective—as expectation promotes a placebo response whether the test subject is taking an active pill or an inert one. “We have drugs that people have done amazing testing on, demonstrated how they work, shown them to be safe to go into humans and yet turn out to be no better than placebo. We have to ask why,” Hall insists. “What is it that we’re missing?”.

The implications of further research—answering the many questions being raised about the placebo effect—would likely be profound, says Patterson, bringing broad institutional change, from the way pharmaceuticals are created to the nature of doctor/ patient interactions.

“We might even just save a lot of money by giving doctors the [freedom] to administer placebos when they feel there is benefit in doing something [other than just prescribing ineffective or potentially harmful drugs] when the best course of action is to get out of the way and let healing happen,” she says. “We need to start seeing the brain’s power to heal yourself as a kind of super-power”.

When TOMORROW X TOGETHER made their way to Paris for the closing of the Fashion Week Men's Autumn/Winter 2024 show season in January this year, they were given the complete Dior experience. The quintet did the usual touristy things—visiting the Louvre and strolling around the Seine—but also had the opportunity to visit La Galerie Dior, the exhibition space located within the House's iconic 30 Avenue Montaigne address.

Throughout their adventures around Paris, TOMORROW X TOGETHER were dressed completely in Dior Men, ranging from artistic director Kim Jones' more casual streetwear-leaning proposals to impeccable tailoring that stayed true to the haute couture spirit of the House. The latter was on elegant display as the group entered (to a cacophony of screams and camera clicks, no less) the show space of the Dior Men Winter 2024 runway show at Paris' École Militaire in the city's seventh arrondissement.

TOMORROW X TOGETHER's outfits were a calculated move, both by the group as well as the House. Tapping on his own personal experiences and roots—as he often does time and time again at Dior Men—Jones' inspiration for the Dior Men Winter 2024 collection revolved around the perceived reality of a ballet dancer's life versus the actual reality of it. The ballet dancer in question is Soviet-born Rudolf Nureyev, one of the most renowned male ballet dancers in the world and just so happens to be a friend of Jones' uncle, photographer and former ballet dancer Colin Jones.

Before delving deeper into the inspiration behind the Dior Men Winter 2024 collection, it's important to note that the very beginnings of the collection was an exploration of Monsieur Dior's own relationship with ballet. English ballerina Margot Fonteyn is said to have first discovered the house of Dior in 1948 while on a trip to Paris and became a fan of its creations. A friendship with Monsieur Dior naturally developed and Fonteyn often chose to wear Dior on numerous occasions.

This is where an almost unbelievable happenstance begins. Fonteyn's most famous dance partner is none other than Nureyev—effectively linking Monsieur Dior and Jones in the most amazing way.

"When Colin became a photographer, he maintained strong links to the ballet world and, in 1966, Time Life asked him to document a day in the life of Nureyev, regarded by some as the greatest male ballet dancer of his generation. Bonded through their shared history and mutual sense of fun and mischief, the pair went on to forge a great friendship," explains Jones.

The resulting Dior Men Winter 2024 is one of contrasts: the difference between ready-to-wear and couture, between onstage and backstage, and between the life of Nureyev theatrically and in reality. "Here, it is a meeting of the dancer's style with that of the Dior archive," expresses Jones.

There's no doubt that Jones is already more than familiar with crafting from points of contrasts. His oeuvre at Dior Men has always been merging elegant signatures from the archives with contemporary stylings. The Winter 2024 collection takes references from Saint Laurent's time at Dior, translating the late designer's tailored volumes, vents, pleats and necklines. The iconic Bar jacket created by Monsieur Dior is contextualised once again, this time, combined with Jones' very own Oblique tailoring.

While the runway collection is imbued with more extravagant flounces as well as the debut of Dior Men's haute couture—as nods to Nureyev's theatrical career—the dramatic flair as seen on TOMORROW X TOGETHER are more nuanced. '60s- and '70s-inspired tailoring are cut with a rigid straightforwardness, especially in the single-breasted variations, that are then paired with gently flared trousers. Conversely, the collection's more commercial pieces lend a more streetwear air. Take this as the contemporary equivalent of a dancer's off-duty look with slouchy cardigans and hoodies worn over essential white T-shirts and paired with the roomiest of trousers.

It may be a stretch to compare the duality of Nureyev's life with that of TOMORROW X TOGETHER's, given that the former didn't have to contend with the accessibility of social media and in turn, the almost instant, global fame achieved by TOMORROW X TOGETHER. Yet, what remains a similarity is in the versatility and adaptability of both to weave in and out of their lives onstage and off that echo that contrast of two opposing worlds within the Dior Men Winter 2024 collection.

Photography: Brett Lloyd
Animation: Joan Tai

It's something endearing seeing a 60-year-old's eyes still light up in the presence of a toy. Suhaimi Subandie, grandfather of the local punk scene, co-founder of the May The 4th SG and proprietor of Pop Culture Punch Collectibles, still speaks about toys with the same sort of reverence as a zealot.

With an impressive collection of over 3,000 toys, made between the 60s to the 90s, they offer a fascinating window into Suhaimi's past. There are the likes of Master of the Universe figurines; Kenner Star Wars action figures, still in their pristine packaging; still-sealed boxes of MASK vehicles fill a shelf in a display cabinet.

Then, there is Suhaimi's Japanese toy collection.

After the Second World War, Japan saw the embodiment of wakon yōsai, which applied Western learning to Japanese traditional spirituality. It was a period where science fiction became a way to explore postwar Japan through a creative medium. Companies saw a way to capitalise on the nation's fascination with sci-fi, anime and manga industries by producing lithographed tin toys.

Godzilla was popular, borne out of the fallout of nuclear devastation; mechas came about from Japan's rapid industrialisation. Kaijus; Super Robots; Super Sentais, these and more would find their way into the hands and imaginations of children in the 60s.

Suhaimi's first exposure were the anime and tokusatsu (Japanese for live-action shows with practical special effects). Mesmerised by the flashing colours and derring-dos of the heroes, his focus shifted to the toys from these Japanese shows. Suhaimi recounts that shopping malls like the defunct People's Emporium, carried "a lot of toys from Japan".

As a follower of all things UFO and cryptid, it was a time when the first instance of UFO sightings occurred around the world that further piqued Suhaimi's interest in anime.

"I love everything that's robots and monsters," Suhaimi enthused. "I was a fan of Mazinger and when they decided to do a spin-off called [UFO Robot] Grendizer, I became a fan of that as well."

Grendizer had equal spades of monsters and mecha and the anime had a hold on a young Suhaimi. "I remembered that the cartoons were either dubbed in Malay or Chinese but the visuals and sound were so good that you don't need to speak a certain language to understand the story."

The premise of Grendizer is Prince Fleed leaves his destroyed world in the UFO Robot Grendizer, a powerful war machine. He lands on Earth and fights alongside his new human friends against the enemies who were behind Prince Fleed's ruined home planet.

Watching Prince Fleed interact and attach to Spazer (the flying saucer-like support vehicle for the Grendizer), to Suhaimi it was the coolest thing he'd witnessed.

He would gather a few Grendizer toys. There's a miniature die-cast Spazer that Grendizer can fit in, a still mint 15-inch vinyl figurine from Marmit and there's even the odd 12-inch watering can. He remembered how high-quality the toys were at that time. "Their quality is unbeatable, unparalleled," Suhaimi says. "They do very detailed work; you hold the toy in your hand and you know it is quality from the weight or how it feels. This makes the play value of the toys more [enticing]."

Over time, Suhaimi would lament about the drop in quality as Japanese toy houses moved its productions out of the country. "Made in Japan toys are more expensive, yes. But that's because of the quality packaging, quality toys, quality design. How the toys are made goes beyond what normal toys are produced."

His first Japanese toy was a bootleg Ultraman blow-up doll that his grandmother bought for him when he was two. "I think I threw a tantrum when she wouldn't get it for me," Suhaimi recalls with amusement. "I was rolling about on the floor. Then, she finally gave in." Back then, that 16" high knockoff was worth SGD2, "But we were from the kampong," Suhaimi adds, "so that was quite expensive."

Plastic was a new material at the time. Prior to that, toys were made out of tin or wood but with plastic, production became affordable. A subgenre would emerge from the plastic boom: sofubi, which are vinyl toys usually handcrafted by independent toy makers or artists. Usually based on superheroes, Japanese folklore and other Japanese pop culture icons, companies like Marusan, Bullmark and MARMIT were producing sofubis in large numbers. Some of the companies were family businesses, operated by family members.

"They'd have a workshop in their homes where, maybe, the brother-in-law makes the mould, the wife is doing the packing and the mother is spray painting. That's why those companies can't produce too many in a year."

Suhaimi has a soft spot for these independent toy makers, often supporting their businesses. After all, he hailed from the punk DIY culture. He created his own t-shirts using wax paper, he built his own skate ramp from scratch.

His backing for the underdogs also extends to the shows he watches. The main programme is exciting but the inner workings of the show... ah, to Suhaimi, that is far more interesting. "You'd want to know about the unsung heroes, the people behind the scene. It's like appreciating a meal; you'd want to know who the cook is. You taste his food and then you think, this guy is such a genius; who is this guy?

"I like Godzilla," Suhaimi says. "I especially like the actors, the stuntman and the director, especially Eiji Tsuburaya [co-creator of Godzilla]. He practically started the whole monster genre even way before Ray Harryhausen." He gestures to a loose figurine of Tsuburaya, which was part of a set from Tsuburaya Productions to promote the director's 100th Birthday.

You might be surprised to know that even with such care given to his collection, Suhaimi understands that he can't take it with him when he passes on.

"A few years ago, I was sick and when you're sick, there's only one thing on your mind: to get better. So, I told my wife to sell off whatever toy I have—those that can be sold easily; the faster, the better—in order to pay for the medical expenses."

Suhaimi became better but the incident brought clarity to his attitude towards materialism. He declared that when he dies, the collection will go to his wife; his family. They have carte blanche; they can sell it, keep it, give it away. "But," Suhaimi adds, "I want half of the money to be donated.

He cites Sadaqah Jariyah, the act of ongoing benefits for future generations. You plant a seed and that seed grows into a tree and it provides shade, food and a home to animals and people. It's a gift that keeps on giving. At the end of the day, these toys are just... things. They may cost a pretty penny but it's Suhaimi's approach to giving back that is priceless.

Photography: Jaya Khidir

“New York City Misses You Too.” It’s presumptuous but effective, as advertising slogans go, in that it prompted in me a nagging question: did I miss New York? If so, how much? Enough to do something about it?

The above legend was emblazoned across an illuminated billboard, skyscraper-tall, backed by a photo of Manhattan by night, lights atwinkle. I passed it on each occasion I took the Westway into central London and back home again—several times each week, during the months and, now, years following the peak of the pandemic. I had plenty of time to stare at it, to register the fact that circumstances in the travel industry remained so grave that even the second greatest city in the world was reduced to pleading, presumptuously or not, for British tourists to visit.

From the mid-1990s until five years ago, like so many people, I made regular pilgrimages to Manhattan— at least once or twice a year. Initially, entirely for pleasure. Then, for business and pleasure. Latterly, mostly for business. But in the period preceding the pandemic the trips became less frequent, and since 2018 I hadn’t been at all.

Feedback from those who had was not uniformly positive. Friends and colleagues, and some permanent residents, too, reported that the city seemed to have suffered more than most from the lockdowns and their aftermaths. The way they told it, the bagel had gone stale. New York, I was told, was tatty, bedraggled, even humbled. Hard to believe—and I didn’t, quite. But still my informants persisted: the subway was overrun by crazies; rats the size of sheepdogs had taken control of Central Park; and the whole place stank.

Frankly, this all seemed a bit rich to me: these were the same people who had complained for decades that New York had been gentrified into submission, Downtown had been Disneyfied, Brooklyn’s edge had been blunted. Now urban archivists who had long mythologised a lost demi-monde of junkie punk poets were holding their noses and coming over all suburban about... littering. What happened to the concrete jungle where dreams are made of?

Local press confirmed that New York is suffering. Crime is up. Rates of fatal overdoses are skyrocketing. An influx of tens of thousands of asylum seekers is putting an almighty strain on the public purse—and, it seemed to me from talking to friends there, the public patience. (Aren’t poor, huddled masses what New York was built on?) There is a housing drought and a glut of empty offices. Midtown is uncannily quiet compared to pre-pandemic levels, as people continue to work from home and businesses shutter or downsize or relocate. Tax revenue from commercial real estate has plummeted. The tech sector is in retreat. Adding idiocy to injury, to widespread consternation the mayor, Eric Adams, recently authorised a redesign of Milton Glaser’s iconic “I Heart NY” logo. (It now says “We Heart NYC”, in a sans-serif font, with a decidedly emoji-looking heart. In a word, it sucks.)

All desperate and depressing. But I confess, in my superficial way, that the thing that really hit home was that even my most elegantly dissolute Manhattanite friend, a perennial booster for the more dubious seductions of his adopted home, sounded defeated. Incredulity curdling into dismay, he told me that the dark art, at which he was a veteran practitioner, of scoring a last-minute reservation at the hottest restaurant, or a seat at the most exclusive bar, had lost its magic these days. It was too easy. The competition had either upped sticks for Westchester or retired into early-onset senescence. Perhaps, he suggested, those two are the same thing.

Everyone who remained, he said, voice dripping with glassy disdain, ate early and scuttled home to watch Netflix, as if they lived in Kansas or Ohio, rather than in what was once the greatest going-out city on Earth. (The hottest of hot new dining rooms in the West Village, where my friend lays his head, has the promising name Libertine. He reported that the place was packed but everyone was being scandalously well behaved.) Maybe, he suggested, I should come and see for myself, if only so he’d have someone to drink with, after hours?

I resisted. I could take his word for it. I had more than enough on my plate keeping London’s tottering hospitality industry afloat to lend a hand in someone else’s city. Especially at those prices.

Then, last spring, my wife decided she wanted to visit her friend, yet another former party person who’d lately quit the city (in her case for a big old doer-upper in Connecticut), and we should take the kids and make it our summer holiday. With all due respect to the Constitution State, I did not intend to spend my (our) summer holiday in Connecticut. Perhaps a couple of days there, a few days visiting other friends on Long Island, and either side of that: NYC?

Friends were sceptical. My wife was sceptical. I was sceptical. I’d never been to New York as a dad. I mean, I’ve been many times since I became a father, but I’ve never taken the kids with me. This would be a family holiday to a city I’ve only ever visited with less wholesome activities than sightseeing on my agenda. There would be no opening nights, no after-parties, no dive-bar lock-ins. What does a family of four do for fun in New York in the daytime?

I took advice. We should stay in Midtown (really?), because then you can walk to all the main attractions. When it came to those, you should book ahead, to avoid disappointment. Spontaneity has its place, but in New York, with the family in tow, you need to have a plan. Even, though I shudder at the word “itinerary”.

Twenty-plus years ago a regular bolthole of mine was 60 Thompson, on the edge of SoHo. It’s now part of a chain, owned by Hyatt. We booked into the Thompson Central Park, on West 56th Street. It maintains some of the spirit of Downtown—hidden behind a velvet curtain at the back of the lobby is a recreation of a grungy, graffitied burger joint (it’s called Burger Joint)—while offering the more chi-chi amenities one would expect of a luxury hotel. Our rooms were stylish and comfortable, service was warm and efficient, and the proximity to Fifth Avenue, Museum Mile and even Times Square turned out to be a boon.

New York City hotel rooms tend to be smaller than average, not only because space is at a premium but also because you’re in New York City: why would you spend any more time than necessary in your hotel room? (The old me—by which I really mean, the young me—would have had a smart-arse answer to that question, but he’s not here to argue.)

So, then, three full days in the city. Four people, all with wildly differing interests and priorities. Call me a curmudgeon, but I’m not, unlike Penelope (age 13), all that fussed about visiting the “biggest Sephora in the world”. Her mother, meanwhile, would rather be looking at contemporary art than researching and reporting a detailed list of the best pastrami sandwiches in the city, which is what Oscar (age 11)—and his gluttonous father—was focused on. (He was rewarded for his patience at the Guggenheim-Frick-Met-MoMA with an excitingly late-night screening of the latest Mission: Impossible.) Propping up the bar at Fanelli’s, on the corner of Mercer and Prince, will always be among my most cherished New York activities, but I must begrudgingly accept that daytime drinking in darkened watering holes is not the summer holiday the rest of the family was hoping for. (They got sun, sea and sand later in the week, in the Hamptons.)

And yet, despite all the kvetching and schlepping, there were moments of unexpected harmony, and these were a joy. Wandering Dimes Square with Penelope, on a sweltering afternoon, checking out the latest outpost of Lower East Side cool, drinking bubble tea, getting her nails done in a Korean place, checking out vintage T-shirts and second- hand books. A morning jumping in and out of cabs with Oscar, shopping for merch—Mets hat for him, trainers for me—while snacking on strawberry-liquorice twists from Russ & Daughters. Dirty Martinis in the bar of the Thompson with Danielle while, safely upstairs in bed, the kids watched Idris kicking arse, or perhaps ass, on Apple TV.

All four of us walked the length of the High Line on a sultry evening, from Hudson Yards through Chelsea and down to the Meatpacking District, where we watched the sun sink behind the skyline from the roof of the Gansevoort Hotel, while eating sushi from the outdoor omasake bar at Saishin.

All four of us lined up at the counter of the terrific S&P sandwich shop, opposite the Flatiron, being thoroughly spoilt by the funny young staff. All four of us enjoyed the view from the top of the Empire State Building. (Honestly, who knew?) And then a triumphant visit to a Broadway show, Wicked. (It really is.)

Yes, we saw crazies on the Subway. Yes, we saw rats in the park. Yes, we smelt weed wherever we walked. Not in a good way. Yes, it was clear that in recent years the city has taken knocks. Who hasn’t? And isn’t that yet another reason to declare, in solidarity: We Heart New York?

Our last night, a Friday, we went for cheeseburgers at JG Melon on the Upper East Side. The line outside was forbidding but the charming man on the door took pity on the hungry British kids and their hectored British parents and guided us through the throng to a prime table for four at the back. The place was buzzing, and I happily blew a week’s wages on another round of drinks and desserts. (Not going to lie, as Penelope says, New York right now is expensive.)

There’s a new billboard on the Westway, a pink background behind an image of the Statue of Liberty. New slogan, too: “It’s time for New York City.”

It’s a familiar feeling walking into the Quah household for the first time. Tea-stained photographs of children plaster the stairwell leading to the second floor, chronicling a family’s history. A faded couch, likely a long-time resident of the living room, bears the burden of years of lounging. The sound of barking dogs in the back garden adds to the comfortable clutter of everyday life, speaking of days spent together—the beautiful mess. You would’ve never guessed this home houses three Olympians. That is, until you catch a glimpse of the three professional portraits of athletes proudly hanging in the living room.

For many Singaporeans, the Quah siblings are household names. Chances are, you've found yourself glued to the television, heart racing, as you cheered them on in international competitions. They are some of Singapore’s most accomplished swimmers, representing us on the world's biggest sporting stages. For the upcoming Olympics in Paris, however, despite their best efforts to compete together for the first time in an Olympic setting, only one of them has qualified. Eldest sister Quah Ting Wen and Quah Zheng Wen have been fixtures in the swimming world for more than a decade, yet it is their little sister, Jing Wen, who secured a spot.

At 27, Quah Zheng Wen finds himself in an unfamiliar position—watching from the sidelines as his sister prepares for her Olympic debut in Paris. “I feel sad; sad that I'm not there to experience her debut at the Olympic Games,” he confides, seated diagonally from me on his living room couch after a long day of filming. “I very much wished that this would have been the games that all three of us could go to together,” adds Quah, his eyes reflecting a mix of pride and wistfulness. “But I'm more proud than disappointed that I'm not there.”

He recalls his sister's tireless efforts to qualify for the previous Olympics in 2021, repeatedly attempting the gruelling 200-metre butterfly event before failing to qualify. “I felt incredibly sad that I was going without her,” he adds, “I remember thinking if there were an option to give up my spot for her, I would have.”

It's clear that family is of paramount importance to Quah. His greatest fear, he reveals, is the thought of losing his parents. This fear, he explains, has been a driving force in his life since he was young. "It's a big reason why I kind of want to start moving forward in my professional career, start being able to contribute more to the family so that my parents can kind of relax, retire, you know, do the things that they like, travel and enjoy life."

Confronting Time

As an athlete closer to the end than the beginning, athletes like Quah face a unique challenge: the accelerated passage of time in their careers (and everything bad that comes with it). While the average person may not confront the physical effects of ageing until their hair greys and knees sore, athletes often hear whispers about their age by 30. Can Zheng Wen keep up with the younger swimmers? Zheng Wen should consider retirement to give the younger swimmers a chance. Quah is already past his peak. It hardly seems fair to label a 27-year-old as ageing, yet I’d wager this reality forces athletes to mature much faster than the average person.

"It's quite crazy," Zheng Wen begins, "your life as an athlete is compressed." He recounts his journey from being one of the youngest on the national team at 15 to suddenly finding himself the oldest male swimmer on Team Singapore. “I now stand almost completely alone at the age of 27,” he confides. “Even right now as we are speaking about it, that idea still seems foreign to me."

My Generation

At only 27, it seems odd that Quah is already the oldest male swimmer on Team Singapore, especially given that this age often marks the peak for athletes in sports like basketball and football. When asked why this was, Quah attributes it to Singapore's intense academic culture and the corporate rat race where everyone’s racing to be ahead of each other. “To a lot of people, when you’re between 20 to 26, it's wasted time if you spend it doing sports because there's no money for one, there's no real progression, there's no kind of pathway out of sports into the working world.”

Perhaps this is why Quah finds himself in a situation where his younger counterparts are retiring as early as 18. Or maybe it’s due to the fact that no one younger has been able to outswim the UC Berkeley alum yet. “That’s one of the reasons why I'm still in it. I mean, if I can't be the best here, then I can't be the best anywhere, right?”

In the world of competition, it’s tempting to look at someone younger and feel a need to be better than them. The natural inclination is to believe that your greater experience and longer track record of winning should give you an edge. Plus, it's all too easy to imagine what these newcomers were doing when you were their age and write them off.

Quah, however, takes a different approach. Reflecting on his time training at UC Berkeley alongside Olympians and world record holders, he remembers the first time a younger swimmer outpaced him. “Even though they're younger, I never saw them as less of a threat, you know, I respected all of them equally.”

A mindset like this was vital during Quah’s journey through National Service. A series of deferments meant he was conscripted several years later than his peers, placing him in a platoon filled with individuals six years his junior. "It felt odd at first," Quah admitted. "I mean, you know, a lot of my sergeants and superiors were guys younger than me." However, Quah's experiences in competitive swimming where he'd learned to respect all opponents regardless of age prepared him well for this unusual dynamic. With a chuckle, he adds, "Men, you know, we don't really grow up too much, right? Men will always be boys."

Sports, Metaphorically

Life imitates art, but is it a stretch to suggest that life also imitates sports? At 16, he set a national record in the 400m individual medley and made the Olympic squad, fighting to prove himself in London. By 20, he became the first Singaporean male to reach an Olympic swimming semi-final, placing 15th and 10th in butterfly events. Later, he’d forever etch his name into the front page of the history books, becoming Singapore’s most-medalled male swimmer.

Yet in 2024, despite the achievements, Quah finds himself, once again, needing to prove his worth after missing Olympic qualification. It’s a cycle akin to the human experience: bare and vulnerable we arrive, bare and vulnerable we depart; just as athletes begin and end their careers battling to prove themselves. In the case of Quah, silencing pundits isn’t his only hurdle, he’s also racing against the decay of time—which begs the question: with Father Time as his challenger, how fiercely will he swim this final lap?

“The older, more experienced and better at the sport you are, the harder it is to find those small things to change that get you that little fraction of more time,” he says. “But undeniably, I have to try, I have to try extremely hard."

His voice carries a mix of determination and wonder, "But that's the beauty, right? We never know the limit, we always believe that there's that 1 per cent we can change, that can make a difference to bring out a performance better than any you've ever put out before." True to his words, in his most recent swim before this interview, he achieved his fastest time of the entire year. “I'm proud to say that I never gave up.”

What Lies Ahead

Given Quah's mindset, one might naturally expect him to pursue a spot in the 2028 Olympics. Yet, reality intrudes. “I think it's hard to say, in four years I’ll be 32,” he says with a tinge of wistfulness. “I do want to be able to contribute to my family financially and have my parents be in a comfortable spot but I think right now unfortunately in Singapore we're just not in a spot where we're able to push athletes for that long of a period.”

In that case, what’s next? Having studied neurobiology at UC Berkeley, Quah had aspirations of eventually becoming a doctor like his father but his perspective has shifted. “It was a long-time dream of mine,” he admitted. “But I just don't think med school is in the cards really for me anymore.” Quah appears content with this shift, adding, "I've learned to be okay with that."

To adapt and find peace in letting go speaks to a deeper maturity, one that Quah attributes in part to the life lessons swimming has taught him. “I used to think that winning was everything,” he admits. “Results were everything and anything less than that would be a loss.” This mentality drove him towards excellence for years.

Yet, as he’s matured as an athlete, he’s come to realise that the countless hours spent training with teammates chasing the same goals, the camaraderie—the journey, is equally as important. But perhaps the most valuable lesson swimming has taught him is gratitude. "Cherish every moment," he says, "because once it's gone, it's gone forever."

Our Foundation

At present, Quah hopes to use his platform to encourage the younger generations of swimmers and to progress sports in Singapore. “In the past, I would’ve been like why would I want to do this (8-hour shoot)? I’d rather train, I’d rather be eating, I’d rather be sleeping. I could hang out with my friends,” he reflects, then adds with a self-deprecating chuckle, "Okay, not so much that one lah because I didn’t have a social life.” He goes on, “but I think this is an opportunity for me to share my experiences and show that it's possible to swim longer than five years.”

Singapore is quick to applaud its sporting heroes but tends to forget them when they stumble. In a sport like swimming, where losses far outnumber wins, is it fair to expect athletes to excel consistently without adequate support during challenging times? One can’t help but wonder: Is there a world where Singaporean athletes are rewarded when they win and supported when they lose?

Perhaps in that world, this interview might have taken a different direction—I would have asked him about the Olympics in 2028. Maybe Quah would have felt more confident about his Olympic future; spoken with optimism and determination about his training plans and goals for the next four years.

Regardless, there is no use dwelling in hypotheticals—the focus must remain on the present and the tangible future. Whether or not Quah competes in the 2028 Olympics, his influence on Singapore's sporting landscape is undeniable and will continue to be felt long after he hangs up his goggles.

Director of Photography: Jaya Khidir
Director and Editor: Nowo Kasturi
Creative Direction: Asri Jasman
Grooming: Christian M
Gaffer: Fang Yuan
Grips: Amos Elijah Lee, Ern Quek, Guo Wei, and Timothy Lim
Production Assistants: Ng Kai Ming and Syed Abdullah
Watch: Samsung Galaxy Watch Ultra⁠
Locations: Hideout and COMO Orchard
Animation: Joan Tai

It's hard to believe a decade has passed since Lauv recorded his first single, "The Other", one of the many songs of heartbreak that he, as a music industry veteran, has come to be known for. But even before that tune was birthed from a 2014 split, Lauv could harness turbulent waves attached to romantic relationships before actually being in them; this kid was penning break-up bangers back in school. His ability to reach in and excavate raw emotion landed him a publishing deal upon graduation, with tracks snapped up by the likes of Cheat Codes, Demi Lovato, and Charli XCX, no less.

"It took me time to get the confidence to put out my own song," Lauv said, "but 'The Other' was different. It was a really personal song about a break-up. That feeling of when you know in your gut it's not right, but you're also not sure how to explain it in your head. On paper, it should be good."

"The Other" would act as a soft launch while Lauv (aka Ari Staprans Leff) busily pedalled hit after hit for other artists. But soon he'd join their ranks with a slew of hits, most notably, the 2017 hit "I Like Me Better" became an international smash. Inspired by his move to New York City and a romance that swiftly ensued, the electropop number became a soundtrack for summer lovers (as it did too for Netflix rom-com, To All the Boys I've Loved Before). It stayed on the US Billboard Hot 100 for over six months and broke Lauv across Europe, Asia and Australia.

"I was wondering if anything was going to happen in my music career... if it was going to go anywhere. Then I finally released 'I Like Me Better' and within the first hour of refreshing the YouTube page, the views and comments went up like crazy. Life became extremely busy, really fun but also super stressful. It became a lot of touring, interviews, artwork, making content and more songs, and quickly turned into 'this is my full-time thing now."

That September, Lauv joined British superstar Ed Sheeran on his Divide Tour in Asia. First stop: the Singapore Indoor Stadium. "I remember the city was so pretty, so clean and so vast. I had chilli crab, chicken rice and stuff like that, but I do need to delve more into Singaporean food. Success in APAC swung Lauv back and forth east on the regular. Lauv even collaborated on tracks with Lay Zhang, BTS, and TWICE.

"I still have to process the weight of some of these collabs. They've been so much bigger than I could have imagined," he muses. "Another cool aspect of it all has been being able to play some awesome shows in Korea, and meet tonnes more K-pop artists."

Lauv was in Japan promoting the compilation, I Met You When I Was 18, when we first met and I asked him to describe what it felt like being in love. “It’s awful!” he said in 2018, based on that experience, the one which shaped his acclaimed debut. He maturely echoes that sentiment today.

“Looking back, I feel like my first relationship maybe wasn’t the healthiest. Not necessarily the best match, but it was such a high just knowing you had somebody and feeling like you had a partner to rely on, especially at that age when I was at the end of high school, so shy and feeling pretty lost. Falling in love for the first time was magical.

“Now I’m in a place where I’m so single and really afraid to let in love again. It’s something I’m working on because in my 20s I’ve had a lot of career success but I’ve also had a lot of personal issues.” He admits, “I feel like in a lot of ways I don’t really know myself, trust myself or love myself fully. I needed to stop running to other people to fix that or band-aid that, and instead to learn to love myself and the right partner will come along.”

Emphasis on “partner”. “I don’t really have any particular answers yet, other than it’s something that I’m exploring in my music and exploring in my mind, and I’m going to be exploring in my life,” Lauv said in a 2013 social media post.

He reveals about where he is with that exploration. “It’s been a really awesome and exciting journey but it’s also been so hard for me. Two months ago I stopped taking all of my medication for my mental health stuff because I was feeling like it was numbing me a little bit and I felt ready to address my deeper issues and work them out in therapy.

“This is my decade to be myself and live my life for me and not for any outside anything. There’s no turning back from where I’m at right now, so I have to embrace all the parts of myself and learn how to be comfortable in my own skin."

“Now I’m doing a tonne of therapy multiple times a week to work through all of the deeper stuff I have going on. I’ve also been so lucky to have so much support from people around me: friends, family, and even my team. They’re like ‘Don’t rush yourself in this process, don’t rush to label yourself, and you don’t need to do this for anyone else except for yourself.’"

“Potential”, his first song released a year after the social media post, marks the beginning of what he calls the most authentic chapter of both his career and life to date.

“This is something that’s happened to me too many times in the past year or two, where I’m looking at friendships and being like ‘Wait...maybe these feelings aren’t just friendship feelings and maybe they’re way deeper for me'. 'Potential’ is a song exploring that.”

The colourful accompanying promo to “Potential” shows Lauv and dancers in start-to-finish choreography for the first time, expressing those emotions to a rather attractive love interest.

“Shooting the music video was really fun and such a positive experience. Everybody on the shoot had such a loving energy that made me feel very safe to explore something on camera that I’ve never really explored on camera.”

In 2019, Lauv joined forces with out-and-proud Australian pop singer, Troye Sivan, on the number three single on the Singapore chart. Lauv explains how Troye has been a constant source of support in this life following their at-first professional encounter.

“We were actually just texting yesterday, I miss him as it’s been a minute since we’ve seen each other. Troye was amazing from the moment we met, during the peak of crazy anxious times for me. Working together was such an easy process and then doing promo, shooting content, making the video...he’s been somebody I’ll forever be grateful for, who took the time to talk me through stuff. A couple of times in the past few years, I’ve hit these points of extreme self-questioning and feeling very lost, and he’s always been there, and been somebody who has been very... non-judgmental, accepting, kind, and patient. He puts me at ease.”

At ease including that of speaking openly and honestly about his crushes. When asked how that feels, a noticeable weight appears lifted off his shoulders.

“I’m at the point where once I started admitting it to myself, I found myself being so inspired and writing all these songs about different guys in my life or fantasising about a potential lover. It felt so beautiful and natural to me. I do feel like in terms of life experience I have so much more to unpack and experience. I’ve gone through the phase of allowing myself to talk about this and admit these feelings, dream and write about them, and now it’s like ‘Let’s go Ari,’ and I’m like, ‘ahhh!’”

Ari is his birth name. Ari Leff. Lauv’s stage name was coined from his Leo zodiac sign and his mother’s Latvian heritage (“Lauva” is Latvian for “Lion”). Lauv turns 30 on 8 August; a milestone birthday, which he describes as an opportunity to start fresh, not start over.

“This is my decade to be myself and live my life for me and not for any outside anything. There’s no turning back from where I’m at right now, so I have to embrace all the parts of myself and learn how to be comfortable in my own skin. I’m also trying not to put too much emphasis on only career since a lot of my 20s were so career-focused, however, at past points in my life when I’ve felt most at peace with myself, I’ve made music that I really love.

“Now I want to dig back into family, friendships, and living just as ‘Ari’. Not worrying as much about ‘Lauv’ and letting that follow suit however it does.”

With that in mind, what are his plans for the big 3-0?

“I’m not going to have a huge party. I’m going to do something intimate with people that I care about, who have been there for me and I want to be there for, just coming together and having a nice wholesome celebration together.”

Of course, Lauv’s not Lauv with a pinch of excess thought.

“I am nervous though,” he finally admits, “It’s wild turning 30!”

Photography, Digital Imaging and Retouching: Jayden Tan
Styling: Asri Jasman
Grooming: Emma Wendorff
Photography Assistant: Brian Neo

All right, it’s been done to death to deem a celebrity—who also happens to quite literally be tall, dark and handsome—as down to earth. The rationale is perfectly understandable. You look a certain way, make a living in a world that mostly operates like a separate stratosphere... and of course maintaining an objective grip on reality automatically becomes a feat.

That’s not to discount Taylor Zakhar Perez. It’s not so much the absence of airs about the actor but the sense that, vocation aside, he could make a sincerely valuable friend in your life. I’m coining it Cool Dude Energy: positive yet pragmatic.

The 32-year-old comes across as a tad younger than his actual age with a somewhat unjaded disposition for someone who has been in this trade since his teens. Yet between affable rambles, a time-honed maturity slips through every so often. Living nearly half his life in Los Angeles meant some trial and error finding the balance of confidence sans ego, or preserving self-belief without giving in to an industry-induced god complex.

“I’ve always taken the slow and steady, consistent approach. That’s just how I grew up, where everything’s regime and you build a solid foundation before you build the house,” he shares casually, “I think a lot of people like building the house first because it’s pretty and something to show for, but when it comes time to get that inspection, when you really have to dig deep, there is no foundation.”

Setting the scene

Born in Chicago and raised in Indiana as the sixth of eight children, the Midwesterner identified more as an older child than a younger or middle growing up. The household dynamic had Zakhar Perez effectively functioning as the eldest of the youngest segment. Given his career trajectory, catching up with his older siblings now occasionally lends to him doling out business advice too.

He speaks fondly of his late sister Kristy, who the family lost to colorectal cancer. Though 12 years apart, their bond and her influence on his life are evident through his heartening dedication on social media. Of Kristy’s many wise counsels that he adopts is to just keep going; as restarting anything after stopping is usually much harder.

This guidance was further substantiated by his stint as a varsity swimmer. Funnily enough, throughout the decade-long tenure, he was never truly fond of swimming (he still surfs though). “It was the discipline of it and the camaraderie that I loved,” he admits, “I was team captain for two years in a row and I liked being a leader, and that sense of community that I might not have had if I stopped.”

Training to never lose the groundwork created for himself eventually shaped his acting mindset as well. One he abided by even later in life waiting tables for actors on the other side of the coin; seemingly powered by sheer conviction. Whose certainty that they were going to succeed, despite having never seen them on any screen, was highly persuasive.

“It was interesting that I thought they were going to make it because they thought they were going to make it,” he recalls, “but I kept to the educational [route] because I knew from my experience as an athlete that that’s what you’re going to have to do. It’s practice after practice. Competitions. Win, loss, year after year; and that’s how I equate it. Acting is a sport.”

It only took finishing university to pursue his dreams. When early admissions to some of the best bio-chem programmes (the initial ambition was to be a dermatologist) came with the caveat of a swim scholarship, Zakhar Perez turned it down to attend UCLA as part of the appease-the-parents deal.

The evolution from theatre to commercials, however, was a steep learning curve. “It was cool to see yourself on TV in the beginning, but then you discover that there’s a technique behind it, which you have to invest in for it to convey on screen,” says the man who was not spared the trope of a small towner meets big city.

“Having acting coaches tell you like it is, but you don’t want to believe it because ‘Oh man I was the best in my high school so I’m going to be the best here’ and realising oh my gosh I’ve so much work to do.”

Defining the character

Cutting his teeth as an assistant for five years under his uncle, an art department director and set designer for commercials and advertising (“I was basically a glorified mover the first week”). The stint was another invaluable masterclass. It entailed being one of the first people involved in the process by sourcing props and prepping sets, to being among the last ones to leave after breaking down the sets. A far cry from simply showing up to shoot your scenes.

So it was impressive then, to witness actors who exemplified inspiring conduct. “They didn’t bring any of their insecurities on set, handled everybody from photographer to personal assistants so professionally, never made anyone feel less than but made everyone feel like they were part of this magic that was happening,” he enthuses, naming Hugh Jackman, Jennifer Anniston and Cate Blanchett for laudable behaviour he now emulates.

“I was like, Wow! You are an incredible storyteller and you also have an incredible presence about you that makes people want to work with you. As opposed to say, 70 per cent who were not the ideal talent. It makes you have compassion for your below-the-line creatives. So I’m very grateful because you can’t pay to have that experience but I was paid to have that experience.”

Other names in the game whose performances stay in his head rent-free include Michael Fassbender, Tom Hiddleston thanks to a recent watching of The Night Manager, and James McAvoy; whom the actor had the pleasure of acquainting.

“He was so sweet. Sometimes you think people are unapproachable and you can’t ask them what you want to, but he was so open and wonderful about it,” eyes gleaming as he recounts, “The Brits have a way of working in the details and these guys are such dynamic actors. The specificity, the continuity... it’s impeccable and just lights my fuse.”

As far as he’s concerned, there was no Plan B going into this gig all those years ago. “I remember one Christmas where my [other] uncle kept asking me what my backup plan was, and I said I don’t have one. And he went ‘Ah! Nephew! You should really have one, man. I’ve been out there; I know what it’s like. It’s hard to make it.’”

Constantly advocating his aspirations was not easy but like a movie cliché, Zakhar Perez insisted he was all in and nothing was gonna stop him. The memory is special because said uncle subsequently apologised, acknowledging that he was projecting his own worries and failures out of fear that his nephew might meet a similar outcome.

“And that was before any sort of success came my way,” he reveals, “So I thanked him for being so transparent with me, and as soon as I got rid of that ‘I’ll show you’ mentality, the world opened up for me.”

Hitting the stage

Currently recognised off Netflix and Amazon Prime, Zakhar Perez counts himself lucky for his divvy of co-stars. The natural rapport he carries with Joey King and Nicholas Galitzine, as well as his admiration of Uma Thurman, is clearly visible in interviews.

He appreciates that on top of their obvious flair, they’re equally proficient at embracing a childlike element of play at the moment. It ties to his bias towards rehearsals. It’s the portion many actors dislike due to repetition getting stale, but his theatre background thoroughly relishes it.

“That’s the time you get to improv, and you get to explore where these characters are coming from,” he explains. “It’s freedom because you’re not going to get told you’re wrong. The worst you’d be told is that it’s inaccurate given the circumstances. It just strengthens everything before you get on set to take that audience on a journey.”

While he would certainly not mind returning to theatre should the stars align for it, Zakhar Perez thrives with the medium he’s in. He’s obsessed with camera work even though he feels unqualified. “I only know my way around maybe a point and shoot, but I love being behind the DP and seeing their vision lining up a shot, because nine times out of 10, it’s totally different from how I’m reading it.”

Together with writing, he regards these as skillsets he’ll probably never fully acquire, but leaning into them better informs his dexterity. For now, he’s gleaning plenty from Oscar-winning producers on a handful of projects. Besides lighting and treatment, one key lesson is getting over watching his own performances. Letting go of professional perfectionism to objectively view it according to plot development.

Above the technicalities, he finds it a blessing that these project partners are adept at hiding the medicine in the sugar. This is an aspect Zakhar Perez deeply resonates with, like the genres he enjoyed watching in adolescence. Sure, he delighted in buddy-style comedies, SNL (Fred Armisen’s Regine absolutely kills him) and superhero action, but the original X-Men films spoke to him personally.

“It really had a message on its mind and makes you rethink [your perspective],” he muses, circling back to the topic, “These projects have completely shifted my entire mindset on the industry. I think people tend to forget that acting is just a sub-category of the entertainment industry at large. It’s a business.”

Sharing the spotlight

There are things he wished he knew when he started out. Expertise that was never actually taught in school (personal finance!) which could genuinely hold back an individual without it. It is why helping the future is something that has always interested him.

“There are two paths, right? You can be an egotistical maniac, or you can reach back and lift somebody up, and that person reaches back and lifts the next person up,” he tells of his philosophy which he practises towards greener actors. Whether new cast or juniors met in passing, there’s no hesitation to take their calls.

“It’s not like I’m trying to be everybody’s mentor but nobody ever did that for me. I know that there are so many questions you’re afraid to ask on your first day and honestly nobody can put you at ease on how it’s going to go than a fellow actor.”

This harkens back to a programme he did many moons ago. The brief was to add a socially impactful cause to your life that you thought you had no room for, as a means to hold yourself accountable since it’s easy to be engulfed in the daily grind. Zakhar Perez decided to boost creativity in youth, in light of the US defunding of many art-related programmes. It seemed a fitting choice.

“Art was my favourite class as a kid. Being able to create solo but also collaborate with friends and have a teacher guiding me in the right direction... that was such a formative time in my life. And I saw what was lost through the years of getting older and having papers to write and deadlines to hit.”

“So I had a tent at this farmers market by the LA Zoo, brought tons of arts and crafts and every week kids would come,” he tells with a huge grin. “A friend and I would ask what they’d want to make that day and we’d be cutting up snowflakes, painting, using markers.”

“Their parents would be shopping, then come back to pick them up... It almost felt like a daycare sometimes,” he laughs, “But you know what? If the kids are activated and excited about this, then that’s all that matters. You make time for things in your life that you find meaningful.”

Who knows? Maybe, just maybe, out of these little seedlings sprouted a few for whom these very sessions lay creative soil; forming a fresh base for an upcoming flourish that will one day come around to do the same.

Photography: Lenne Chai
Fashion Direction: Asri Jasman
Art Direction: Joan Tai
Styling: Marc Eram
Producer: Guoran Yu at APEX COMMUNICATIONS
Executive Producer/Casting: Even Yu at APEX COMMUNICATIONS
Production Design: Kelly Framel
Grooming: Rachel Burney
Digitech: Dante Velasquez Jr.
Photography Assistants: Tatiana Tate and Carly Hough
Styling Assistant: Mikey Vargas
Production Assistant: Sky Xiang

No one batted an eye when the shoot date with comedian Atsuko Okatsuka was scheduled on April the first. Perhaps, we were too absorbed in making the appointment happen; maybe we never considered the possibility of Okatsuka not showing up. Looking back, the signs were there for a probable no-show: the slow back-and-forth via e-mail with Okatsuka’s management; a last-minute confirmation on the location and timing.

Ten minutes past the scheduled 1pm and a text saying that they weren’t able to find the studio, felt like a lead-up to someone jumping out from the closet, screaming “sike”. But Okatsuka and her husband, Ryan Harper Gray did show up. Of course, they did. Can the story happen in any other way?

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After touring her next special, Full Grown, in America, Okatsuka embarked on an international tour that would take her from London through Southeast Asia before ending in Australia.

For her stop in Singapore, she only found out that she was performing at a cinema when she hit Asia. “I thought Cineleisure was a cute name for a theatre,” she reasoned. But venue withstanding, her opening night here went off without a hitch. After the opener had warmed up the crowd, Okatsuka came bounding out and leant into not knowing that she was performing in a movie theatre. Then, seeing the spotlight trained on her, she immediately mimed being an escaped convict being caught in a searchlight. The room broke into laughter and for the next hour, she had the audience eating out of her hand.

It’s the same effect even when it’s at an intimate setting like an interview. She is amiable, a cut-up. When she laughs, it reminds one of a Sesame Street puppet—somewhere between a felted growl and a chuckle.

“The men in our lives have either died or left,” Okatsuka says, describing her upbringing as “matriarchal”. Mostly raised by her grandma, who also pull double-duty looking after Okatsuka’s schizophrenic mother; Okatsuka’s family didn’t fit the mould like the others. “My dad divorced my mom; my grandma, mom and I were undocumented; my mom has a mental illness. Whenever I watch other Asian comics joke about how their parents want them to be a doctor, lawyer, engineer... I can’t relate because that was not my family.”

Her mom’s schizophrenia was not diagnosed at the time so Okatsuka assumed that this was just another one of her mood swings. She would create a fuss or throw a plate or anything within reach. After an episode, Okatsuka would notice a frailty whenever her mother calmed down. “I felt bad for her. I’d see her shaking her head like she was shaking out the negative voices. I’d talk to her and still treat her like my mom.”

Whenever her mom starts to “act up”, Okatsuka would play the clown to diffuse the situation. She’d bust a move or pretend a stick was a magic wand that can ward off evil. Her mother would laugh at her antics; the voices in her head fading into echoes.

In a way, her mother was Okatsuka’s first audience.

“I have to be a cheerleader for her,” Okatsuka adds. “I have to put on a song and urge her to dance. Mom, repeat after me: I am worth it. I am strong. There’s a darkness happening but I’ve to be cheery for her. I know it’s a crazy scene—someone is losing their mind and someone is tap-dancing in front of them. But that’s the only way I know how to handle the situation and it is with some light.”

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The pandemic kept Okatsuka and her husband indoors, masked and responsible; all in an effort to protect her mother and grandmother living with them. While it was a period of “general sadness”, it’d prove to be the occasion that would shape Okatsuka into the comedian that she is today.

There were two critical points: one, she started to be introspective and write about topics that were hard to talk about before like her mother’s schizophrenia. It became an eye-opening entry into a different side of the comedian.

She had created Normalise Everything, a stand-up show that consisted of comedians who have parents with mental illness. The hour-and-a-half show was livestreamed and the money raised was donated to Painted Brain, a mental health organisation.

The second point is her social media game. Other than her stand-up bits, her TikTok has videos of her dancing, most of them either with her grandmother or with Gray. The innate silliness of her videos was a balm during COVID. In one of her dance uploads, she accidentally created the #DropChallenge, where Beyoncé’s bass-heavy “Yoncé” plays in the background, Okatsuka halts in the middle of her activity in Little Tokyo and drops, twerk-style as slowly as possible before rising again. All these happen with her grandmother in tow. That video had one million likes and her fanbase exploded.

One of these fans was Mike Birbiglia, a veteran comic, who asked her to open for him on his tour. During the tour, Okatsuka related to Birbiglia about an intruder being breaking into her house three times in a day and wondered how she could incorporate it into a special that she was working on. Bowled over by the story, Birbiglia worked with her on her special that would eventually become The Intruder.

The Intruder was Okatsuka’s first HBO special and she was also the second Asian-American woman to have a stand-up special with the streaming giant. The first? That honour goes to Margaret Cho, who, in a roundabout manner, inspired Okatsuka to pursue comedy when her friend passed her a DVD of Margaret Cho: Notorious CHO during a sermon in church.

Okatsuka had never seen stand-up before. At the time, she was an immigrant sharing a space with her mother and grandmother in her uncle’s garage. She kept her head down, only exposed to the things that her “immediate family [were] into”. Cho’s special blew the doors open into a larger world. Not only was a woman, who looked like Okatsuka, cracking wise, but there was a confidence that spoke to her. In a cover story in The New York Times Magazine, Okatsuka says, “I often wonder what it must feel like for her, knowing who she is since she was born. It took me probably 10 years to figure out my voice.”

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You've read the stories about how her parents met on a Japanese dating show. Or how when she was eight, her grandmother kidnapped her from her father and stowed her away to America. Or how her grandfather died at the hands of the Kuomintang during the White Terror in Taiwan. These and many other incredible instances are peppered into Okatsuka’s life. They would be wellsprings of material for her comedy but before the age of 19; before the recommendation from the community college film professor whom she was dating to try stand-up, these chapters amounted to just another day in her life. Because of her immigrant status, Okatsuka just wanted to blend in and not make waves.

Growing up in America, she wanted to change her name but said that she wasn’t “creative enough” to come up with anything new. She had gone by “Stacey” for a little bit. “And then that song by The Ting Tings came out,” Okatsuka said, “That was a fun wake-up call. They call me Stacey. They call me Her. That’s not my name. That’s not my name. And I was like, yeah, why am I trying to be white? That’s not my name.”

She had struggled with fitting in all her life. When she lived in Japan, she had to deal with the lack of warmth from the locals because of her foreign status. Whenever her mother had her schizophrenic episodes, Okatsuka had to push aside her own needs to tend to her.

“When I was four and under, I had the bowl cut,” Okatsuka said. “And I was trying all sort of ways to fit in. Maybe adopt a long hairstyle, like Jennifer Aniston or Angelina Jolie. Maybe being blonde is the way to go.

“But when I finally found my voice in comedy, I wanted the bowl haircut that I had when I was a kid. When I was young, I didn’t feel like I could completely be myself. But now I can. This is a second chance at being my childlike self again.”

She finds it important to hold on to the spirit of playfulness. “Because as you grow older, you have to deal with paperwork and rules; more doctor visits... technical things that are very serious. I want to continue embracing that childlike joy.”

The bright colours, the haircut, the comedy—all these and more are Okatsuka’s better sequel to her childhood. “Part two is gonna be better than the sad, dramatic childhood.”

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The moment the industry is ready for someone like her, everything else had to happen before that.

“In America and everywhere in the world, honestly, representation in the media has not always caught up to the number of people who actually want to do a certain art or have been working at it,” Okatsuka explains. “For example, in America, when I first started, there was Margaret Cho and then Ali Wong. We didn’t have many people before us, who did it and who were embraced by Hollywood, who were embraced internationally. Of course, you don’t have the self-confidence to think, oh, I could do it too.”

It was 2018: Ali Wong’s second special came out and Fresh Off the Boat was already a TV show. More Asian-American representation was rife in the landscape. Okatsuka had been doing stand-up for a while; her comedy got better and she started to see more people turning up to her sets. “That was when I thought that I didn’t have to walk dogs any more or teach film at a community college. I could quit those and focus on stand-up comedy.” She doesn’t do accents in her act. “I’m not good at them, I feel you can tell a story without doing them and I don’t want to be taken the wrong way. Especially with Western audiences, they might laugh for the wrong reasons and not listen to the story, setup or punchline. They are just laughing because there’s an accent. See, Asian accents are choppy and silly-sounding. That’s why it’s funny. That’s so... old school now. That was the old way of laughing that I don’t think is funny any more.”

When asked about her first impression of her husband, she says “Oh, I’ve always wanted a sister, you know. We’ve started to dress alike; we joke similarly, and we laugh about a lot of things, it’s like I’ve found a sister that I’m also attracted to. So, that’s special.”

It’s a joke, of course. Ryan Harper Gray is more than that. He helps her with her skits, her production, her schedule. He’s her Guy Friday with added spousal benefits. They met through a mutual friend’s shoot and just fell hard for each other. In one of her bits in The Intruder, Okatsuka describes the moment she found out that Gray had a schizophrenic mother. “And I was like, Oh my God. My mom too. And we had the craziest sex ever.”

But even in the comfort of each other, there are still some things that are verboten. “Being a comedian is hard but it’s harder for their loved ones,” Okatsuka says. “Because we talked about everything so what’s safe to talk about on stage? There was one time I talked about him having stomach issues, like diarrhoea stuff and after the show, a fan saw Ryan and screamed, Hey, that’s the diarrhoea guy. Ryan says, oh, no, that’s gonna stick. Can we not tell that joke any more? I said, of course. I don’t want you to be known as that ‘diarrhoea guy’.”

(And to Gray who is probably reading this—a sigh already forming in his throat—apologies for retreading this incident up again.)

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At the point of the interview, back in April, Okatsuka wagers that her special, Full Grown is about 75 per cent finalised. “There’s a lot more jokes that I think I can write for it and some I might replace.”

She says that her discipline in comedy is the only adult thing about her. According to Gray, she’d write almost every day.

“I’m not organised but whenever I have time during the day I’ll write. Or at the very least, I’ll be thinking about jokes. If something made someone laugh, I’ll remember it or I’ll write it down on my phone.” She’ll deconstruct the joke later—why was that conversation funny? Why did that person laugh when she said that? How can I expand on it? Okatsuka can be such a nerd about it”.

The first joke that she ever told was at a comedy class that she found online. “Oh, you could tell jokes at an open mic but those clubs are usually open at 10pm to midnight. It was’t very safe for women at that timing.”

The premise of her first joke is about how her name is Japanese and she worked in a Japanese restaurant and she drives a Toyota. “It’s about why everything I do is Japanese-related. It was literally a stupid sentence that just stated facts.”

She’s easily recgonisable but she is also trapped by it, especially her hairstyle. Because Okatsuka acts as well, it’s tricky for her to audition given her appearance. “I can be myself in my stand-up but fitting into other people’s role is a balance that I’m still trying to figure out.”

The easiest way out of this is if someone created a role where the character already looks like her. Or the other option, that she briefly mentioned, is if she created a role for herself. That might be a possibility as she’s talking to TV networks about creating a show based on her life.

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She's a people pleaser by nature. After the initial show in Singapore was sold out, those who couldn’t get tickets were asking if she would add more shows. She acquiesced and created four more shows. Gray says that every time Okatsuka performs, it drains her.

So imagine, during her tenure in Singapore: five performances held over three days. That takes a toll on a person. “This is probably the last time we do something like this,” Okatsuka says.

But still, people are clamouring for more shows from her. She’ll return to tour Asia again and she’ll swing by Singapore to perform on 22 and 23 July. This time it’ll be at a proper theatre in the Esplanade and, of course, both nights will be sold out.

Okatsuka alludes to a lack of mystique to her. “I think I’ve done whatever I could do to show you who I am. Everyone is caught up, I think,” she says. “I’ve pretty much shared so much of my life that everyone has seen it all.”

These days, she uploads once or twice a month. She’s trying not to overload her feed with too much information but, if the likes and sold-out shows are any indication, people are still interested in what she has to say. When it comes to her anecdotes, her premises often start as tragedies: The intruder in the home; a pandemic that saw no sign of abating; a mother with mental illness; a sham marriage. Without punchlines, the set-ups are just... tragic.

And perhaps, that is Okatsuka’s magic. That she can find an avenue away from the expected grief and unhappy endings. When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade. And then, you wonder if lemonade is just lemon piss and so you do a spit-take because that is a funny reaction.

In today’s climate, choosing to be happy is such an audacious act. And with Atsuko Okatsuka leading the charge on this, we will gladly follow.

Photography: Shawn Paul Tan
Styling: Asri Jasman
Hair: Sha Shamsi using OUAI via SEPHORA
Make-up: Kenneth Chia using SISLEY
Photography Assistant: Xie Feng Mao
Styling Assistant: Chua Xin Xuan

ESQUIRE: When I think about your collaboration with Tiffany & Co., the first thing that comes to mind is the heart-shaped sunglasses that Alexandre Arnault posted on Instagram. You revealed those sunglasses last June saying, “You would know that I’m engaged to Tiffany. This is just the start of the many things we’ll be doing together.”

PHARRELL WILLIAMS: Those sunglasses are special. Generally, jewellery and accessories are must-have items in my style. That’s why I really enjoyed the process of working on that project. Thanks to the love those sunglasses got, we were more excited to release Tiffany’s new Titan collection. I’m close friends with Alexandre Arnault. So, getting the opportunity to create the Titan collection with Tiffany was an honour, and I’m thankful for it. 

ESQ: What did you want to express with the designs at Tiffany, and was there anyone or any incident that inspired that?

PW: I’m very inspired by water. The design of this collection and the name “Titan” were inspired by Poseidon, who is the king of Atlantis (a fictional city under the sea) and the ruler of the sea. “Atlantis” is also the name of an area in Virginia Beach where I grew up. Also, titanium was named after “Titan”, and you can call it “titan” for short. It is also a name that emphasises our use of black titanium, which we used in this collection to physically embody the beauty of the colour black. 

ESQ: I think it was a great idea to pair yellow gold with black titanium, and it felt fresh to me. 

PW: [The reason for that was] because it is different from tradition, and something unheard of. We wanted to make something beautiful yet different at the same time with this collection.

ESQ: You’ve even mentioned that “jewellery is the punctuation mark of a person”.

PW: Jewellery makes a person. We even remember a person by their jewellery. I can never forget the ring that Slick Rick wore a long time ago. I remember trying to look for the same ring he wore. 

ESQ: There was a dinner party hosted in New York to mark the launch of Tiffany’s Titan collection. Please tell us more details about that party.

PW: I was really happy that my friends and family came and supported me. That was the first time I saw other people wearing pieces from this collection. I was able to give life to this collection while working very closely with Tiffany’s in-house design team, and it’s such an honour to lead Tiffany into a new generation. It was at the New York flagship store (which looks down into Central Park). Launching the collection there made it feel like everyone came back and got together in their hometown.

ESQ: There was a Tiffany Wonder party in Tokyo recently. 

PW: Firstly, I love Tokyo. It’s one of the cities I love, and the food is amazing. It was great to be able to celebrate 187 years of Tiffany in Tokyo.

ESQ: How would you describe the style of this collection in one word? And tell us why.

PW: People. That’s because everything I create is for the people. It doesn’t matter what your gender, race, ethnic group, or anything else are. I hope people of different classes can wear this collection.

ESQ: I recently checked out your collection “Son of a Pharaoh” which you put up for auction on the auction site JOOPITER, which was launched a few years ago. Everything was great, but the BBC Varsity Jacket was especially interesting. It was an item that expressed a politically correct message in a very cool way.

PW: I really love that jacket. Women are our future. I think it’s important to use one’s art or platform to spread love and talk about injustices. Ultimately, it’s because we are all people. I’ll also be launching a very interesting auction on JOOPITER this coming autumn during Frieze Seoul. I don’t want to say much about it now, but I’ll be revealing more details soon, so look out for it. 

ESQ: You’ve been active for over 30 years. How have you been able to stay on the front lines of trends for such a long time?

PW: That’s an interesting point. It’s because I’ve never put in much effort into trying to stay afloat of the trends. I just do what I think is right. I’m also lucky to have worked with interesting people from designers to artists, musicians, and all sorts of other geniuses. I’m learning from them every day.

ESQ: I’m curious as to how you would differentiate something good from something bad.

PW: We can never know what is good, or what people can relate to. You just have to feel that it’s right. Whenever I’m creating something original, or whenever I’m pushing myself to do something that nobody else has done before, that’s when I create "something good". Nobody might like what I created, but we have to be prepared for that!

ESQ: Have you ever thought about how you make that distinction? For example, when I asked you earlier “What is good?”, you could either prioritise your personal preference when doing music or fashion, or you could consider the preference of the consumer. 

PW: I try to look through the consumer’s point of view as much as I can, because I’m also a consumer. I think about how I can make it practical, or how the final piece can improve my life or help me live a better life. That’s the criteria I use when making decisions. 

ESQ: What do you ultimately consider to be “good”?

PW: “Good” is such an interesting word. Why do we not say “great”? But at the same time, there isn’t a singular definition of “good”. Something might be “good” but might not change your life. Or “good” could be just a feeling. But if you don’t have true passion or sincerity, or if you’re trying hard to get “something good” without knowing why you’re doing it, then that attempt will fail. What sets you apart from others is what makes you special.

ESQ: What does creativity mean to a creative director?

PW: I have three roles. The first is to be a student, the second is to share the code, and most importantly, the third is to help others. Every season, we have to start from the beginning and expand the codes, which are the elegant tailoring, comfort, resortwear vibe, the basics, and of course the dandy. At the head of it, my role is to give energy (to the people I’m working with). But if I’m not able to create something charming, none of these have any meaning. I speak through my vision and through the amazing talents at our Maison.

ESQ: In a previous interview with Vogue, you described a creative director as a “love movement” and someone who “commands 2,500 soldiers”. I know that The Love Movement is also your favourite album by A Tribe Called Quest, but to be honest, I don’t understand that figure of speech.

PW: “Love Movement” or “LVers” for short was inspired by the slogan of my hometown Virginia, which goes “Virginia is for Lovers”. The work that our team at the Maison and I do is one part of the strong “LVers” community that we created, and at the same time it’s for the community. The reason I likened it to commanding solders, is because I lead 55 departments and 2,500 skilled artisans at our Maison. It means that my role in this place is to lead and direct. Our work has to be in harmony, and my role is to make sure everyone moves as one. And the basis of all our work is love.

ESQ: How did the slogan “Virginia is for Lovers” come about?

PW: I think it started from an ad or a billboard inviting people to come to Virginia for their honeymoon. But the slogan is true. There are all types of love in Virginia. It’s full of communities and families everywhere. 

ESQ: Hearing that reminds me of the Princess Anne High School Varsity Jacket that you put up for auction. It’s clear that it’s an important piece that explains your identity.

PW: Princess Anne High School is the name of the high school I went to in Virginia Beach! I really love that place, and it’s a place that has a lot of good memories. Coming from Virginia is very important to me and to who I am now. Whenever I have the chance to show that Virginia holds a special place in my heart either by representing or mentioning the place, I’ll take it. Creating the Princess Anne High School jacket was a tribute to my hometown.

ESQ: For someone who has only lived in Korea, it’s hard to picture Virginia as clearly as I can picture New York or LA. What kind of place is it?

PW: It’s a really cool place, and it’s my pride. People might underrate us, but you cannot find the history or the culture we have in Virginia state anywhere else! I love being close to the water and get a lot of inspiration from water. Being close to the water helps me feel safe. 

ESQ: You really love Virginia. What about making Pharrell’s Virginia, just like Donald Glover’s Atlanta series?

PW: That’s an interesting thought. But I’m not sure if Virginians would want a show created about them. If you want to watch a cool programme about Virginia or want to hear about the lives of people in Virginia, there is a documentary series called Voices of Fire about Virginia’s choir group with the same name. It’s amazing how much talent they have. The choir is led by my uncle Bishop Ezekiel Williams, who is an inspiration to many people, and you can catch it on Netflix. 

ESQ: As someone who loves honky-tonk, the Louis Vuitton Autumn/Winter 2024 show was very impressive. I’m curious about the reason why you interpreted Western American outfits in the collection. 

PW: I wanted to reference my personal journey from my hometown of Virginia to Paris. I also wanted to tell the story of Western America, which is also the origin of workwear. Workwear evolved from denim which the first cowboys wore. I wanted to tell the story about this inherent history and express the origin and evolution. The story is told as is in the code of this collection. I’m very proud of that collection. From the buckles to the engravings, we didn’t miss a single detail. Simply put, we elevated every element you can think of up a notch.

ESQ: Will you consider interpreting American kung fu culture from the '70s and '80s in future works? I think it would suit you well.

PW: Kung fu and martial arts in general are very interesting. It’s a sport that requires a lot of strength, agility and patience. It’s almost like dancing. This sport is a type of art. It’s something I could consider!

ESQ: What do you think is your greatest asset right now?

PW: I will forever be a student. I love learning from others, and I get inspired by others every day.

ESQ: It’s interesting that you said “student”. What kind of student are you?

PW: I’m a student who observes well and asks a lot of questions. I want to know what happened here and there. I’m curious about how something I’m seeing is being made and why it’s made. We need to keep having curiosity. It’s the best way to learn about ourselves and the world around us.

ESQ: Is there a personal treasure that you’ll never put up for auction no matter what?

PW: There are so many! You mentioned the Tiffany heart-shaped sunglasses at the beginning of this interview. I will never put that up for auction, because it marked the beginning of my beautiful relationship with Tiffany.

Photography: Hyea W. Kang
Fashion Editor: Yun Wonghee
Styling: Matthew Henson
Grooming: Johnny “Cake” Castellanos at H.Q.E
Tailor: Alice Chastel Mazin
Production: Bae Woori
Art Designer: Kim Daesup
Styling Assistant: Marine Gabaut
Translation: Astrid Ja’afarino
Animation: Joan Tai