With equal parts delight and frustration, the founders of MSCHF admit what they do can be hard to categorise.

That is partly the point.

The Brooklyn-based collective operate at the intersection of art, pop culture commentary and consumer pranks.

Also: humour, absurdity and critique.

They have a particular penchant for skewering designer fashion, and our curious and often unhealthy relationship with it.

They are perhaps best known for The Big Red Boot, the bright red, bulky and oversized footwear that was a signature of Astro Boy, the Japanese manga and anime character, which became a viral hit after the made them for real, and released them as a limited-edition, wearable art piece in 2023, priced around £400.

There has been other headline-grabbing footwear.

The Jesus Shoes were a pair of Nike Air Max 97 trainers, modified to include holy water from the River Jordan in the soles, a gold crucifix pendant hanging from the laces, and red insoles said to resemble the colour of Christ’s blood. They retailed for $1,425, a reference to Mathew 14.25 in which Jesus walks on water. “And in the fourth watch of the night, Jesus went unto them, walking on the sea.”

The Jesus Shoes were followed in 2021 by Satan Shoes.

These were another pair of modified Air Max 97s, this time with human blood in the sole, an upside-down cross pendant on the laces and “666” stamped on the side. These retailed for $1,018 – a reference to Luke 10:18. “I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven”.

Sneakers are the tip of the iceberg.

MSCHF’s products/ideas are released in drops, at the rate of one a fortnight.

These have included Puff The Squeaky Chicken, a familiar rubber chicken toy modified to become a bong that squarks when you smoke it. Alexagate, a device that sits on top of an Amazon Echo that may be toggled on and off to shut down Alexa’s always-on listening capability, and hence “stop Jeff Bezos spying on you”. The Free Movie, a frame-for-frame recreation of Jerry Seinfeld’s forgettable 2007 animation The Bee Movie, entirety compromised of crowd-sourced scribbles.

Then there was the Microscopic Handbag, a neon-green 3D-printed take on Louis Vuitton’s OnTheGo tote, that was only visible through a microscope and created for Pharrell Williams – “He loves big hats, so we made him an incredibly small bag”.

And Key4All which flipped the idea of Zipcar on its head, since it was a set of 1,000 identical keys that all unlocked the same car. (To find the vehicle, divers were invited to call MSCHF’s car location hotline, which offered hints to its whereabout in New York City.)

Naturally, there have been lawsuits.

MSCHF’s Birkinstocks were pairs of Birkenstocks’ Arizona sandal made from destroyed Hermés Birkin bags.

It’s Wavy Baby trainers, from 2021, took inspiration from Balenciaga’s Triple S shoes, known for their bulky, exaggerated style, and applied wavy, squiggly contours to the soles and uppers of shoes that were recognisably familiar lines from Adidas, Vans and Reebok.

Nike was understandably displeased about their shoes being associated with both Jesus and Satan.

But those perhaps pale in comparison to the 2020 MSCHF Boston Dynamics controversy.

For this one, the collective released “Spot’s Revenge”, which involved taking the quadruped robot “dog” created by the robotics and artificial intelligence research company, and modifying it with a paintball gun.

The already unsettling droid was then videoed lurching around shooting stuff, a weaponised version of itself, straight out of Robocop.

A “significant” backlash ensured.

None of this has stopped the pranksters from raising a reported $20m in Series A funding, as per 2021, their unique blend of art, marketing and technology, plus their high rate of virality, being catnip to investors.

Quite how said investors hope to get their money back is, you suspect, not MSCHF’s problem.

If getting a handle on precisely what it is that MSCHF do, and why it exists, has proved elusive, a new book, marking its tenth anniversary, provides clues.

As one might expect, Made by MSCHF, published by arthouse book company Phaidon, is a lavish, visually rich almost-400 page doorstop of a book, that surveys the work of the collective, via case studies and thematic essays.

Esquire recently spoke to Kevin Wiesner and Lukas Bentel, chief creative officers at the company, about their work.

The pair were in Tokyo, days away from opening a new exhibition, titled Material Values.

“We’re literally at the back room of a gallery,” Bentel said, as was obvious from the stacks off bubble-wrapped canvases piled up behind them, on the Zoom screen.

“There’s a lot of work ahead of us.”

Esquire: What didn’t you want this book to be?

Kevin Wiesner: We didn’t want it to be a “coffee table book”. Where it’s just pictures and pictures and pictures. Especially because so much of what we’re making are websites – they’re interactive, they’re honestly very hard to print. So, there ends up being quite a lot of writing. Which we hope is sort of describing our working process and how MSCHF approaches executing any of our works. Even internally we’ve always struggled to articulate what makes a MSCHF project. Writing about a dozen projects at significant length was a way to articulate ourselves.

Lukas Bentel: I hope it’s a very educational book. Just in terms of just explaining the thought process, it you read through the projects. Hopefully it leads to other people making work in a similar vein

A number of influential names have contributed essays to the book. The award-winning Pentagram designer Natasha Jen writes about the Satan Shoes, for example. She says: “This endeavour wasn’t merely a dalliance with the absurd, but a meticulously crafted critique of the digital, saturated ethos of our consumer culture and the increasingly fluid boundaries of brand in the contemporary lexicon”. Does that kind of highbrow thinking apply to every MSCHF project? Or do some fall under the category of: “We did this one because it made us laugh?”

LB: I think there needs to be something that brings people in. If it’s humour, or an aesthetic. The thing we often say is “It has to slap in one sentence”. It’s okay to have the fun, as long as there’s some substance to it.

KW: This is something we always navigate. I think people want to look at MSCHF’s work and think that it all can be described in the same way. I don’t think that that’s true. There are things that are primarily meant to be visual. They are things that are intended from the get-go to be specific critiques. And there are things that are much more experiential.

One of the things we have as a pillar of the way MSCHF operates is that we release a lot of things. We hold ourselves to a very strict schedule because we feel like we need to put a gun to our own heads. And that means that… our output varies tremendously. The temptation for people is that as soon as one of them can be analysed as a satire or critique, they go, “Oh, that must be the same for every single project”. But it’s not that homogenous.

But something like Puff The Squeaky Chicken, surely that’s just meant to be funny? There’s no deeper meaning there?

KW: [Laughs] Some of those early ones were us figuring out: “What are we even doing?”

LB: It wasn’t like we had the clearest divisions right from the get-go. It’s been a practice. It’s ever evolving.

KW: The chicken is actually an interesting example. In the context of the rest of the work you can see a thread of sampling specific cultural elements, right? The chicken bong is just stupid and fun, and it was the first physical project that we ever made. We learned a lot from doing it, but it’s derived from the same thought process that gets us to Satan Shoes. We’re looking for things that exist in the world, that we can build other things out of.

The squeaky chicken was culturally ready-made. On the internet, it had a particular connotation. [A meme denoting an embrace of randomness and/ or absurdity]. It was huge at that time, when Vine was still a platform. It was one of these objects that recurred over and over again, in a certain type of content. It was sitting there as something that we could pull from and build on. Would we say it’s one of the 12 case studies that we’re proudest of? Absolutely not. Is it a product of the same process [we used later]? Yeah, I would say, absolutely.

Other ideas, like Key4All, require a crowdsourcing element. You release them, and then its up to other people to figure out what to do with them.

KW: Oh, one hundred per cent. It’s something we do over and over again. We create a set of props or conditions for a performance that’s not going to be done by us. It’s going to be done by as many people who can interact with it as possible.

If you’re keeping up a schedule of a drop every two weeks, how far ahead are you working on ideas?

LB: Generally, a year out. If not longer.

What stops you going cold on something? Ie: A project that got you excited in spring 2024, feeling passé by spring 2025?

LB: There’s been a few times where we’ve “course corrected”.

KW: We make a point not to start working on an idea soon after we have it. You want to put it on a board, and then you let it sit there for six months. And the final test: are we still excited about it? After the initial buzz of coming up with the idea has worn off.

How do you find the people who’ll manufacture all this different stuff? Are you constantly cold-calling companies saying: “Would you be interested in making us an Alexagate?”

KW: The short answer is, basically: yes. But the nice thing is, oftentimes, we’re ringing up manufacturers or companies, and we’re asking them to do something that’s much more fun than what they normally get to do. We have a good hit rate with those with those calls where we say, “Hey, do you want to make…?” Whatever it is.

Is there anything you haven’t been able to get made?

LB: There always is. Or just things that are really hard to do right now.

Can you talk about the process for the Birkinstocks?

KW: The nice thing about Birkenstock, as a sandal company, is they sell every piece of their shoe individually for repairs. Because that’s the kind of company that they are. Hermès does not do that. So, we bought some Birkin bags, and basically, we walked around Brooklyn with the bags. And we went into leather-working shops and asked: “Hey, could you take this apart?” Like, render it back into flat sheets, so we could make stuff? We had several people who point blank refused us. “Get this project out of my shop!” But then, fortunately, we did find someone. We also found a place that was doing small-batch shoe runs. It really was just a matter of coordinating several different suppliers. It took a little bit of convincing. We also did have a bag stolen from the shop.

LB: One person that we worked at the start basically cooked a bag. They did a very bad job.

KW: I think we also had a stack of fake Birkins that we got off [New York souvenir/ counterfeit designer goods mecca] Canal Street, so we could do some test runs on them.

Leaving aside the copyright issues around the actual items you created, you also co opt other elements of a brand’s IP. The Birkinstock product page on your website, for example, is in a font that’s meant to remind people of Hermès. Is all of this protected by the First Amendment rules on free speech? Is that how you get around it?

KW: That’s a good question. We always think it is, right? [Laughs] Pretty much whenever we’re dealing with copyright, we believe that we are operating within our bounds as artists. People who are sampling culture – in the same way that in music there’s a rich sampling culture. I think art history has pretty firmly established that as standard practice. You know, from Warhol onwards, the sort of appropriation of corporate imagery in particular is very – let’s say “normal”.

Now, as far as the law is concerned, that’s a much harder question to answer. And we’ve had to learn more about it than we ever wanted to. And honestly, the thing that was most surprising to us is just how not settled it is. It’s actually incredibly difficult to answer the question you’ve just asked in a way that I feel confident about, because it’s constantly being relitigated. Andy Warhol lost a fair share of these cases. His foundation lost a fair use lawsuit in the last couple of years. Don’t we all feel like he got away with this, several decades ago? Why are we still talking about this?

Apparently, you share a lawyer with Barack Obama.

LB/KW: We do. Yeah.

So, what happens in, say, the Wavy Baby case? Is it a back-and-forth with the shoe companies, until the case is eventually dropped?

LB: I think that one ended up just settled. I think all the lawsuits we’ve had have just settled, ultimately.

Meaning, you had to pay out?

KW: Ultimately, it was decided outside of trial, right? So, we reach an agreement with – in this case – Vans. They do “X”, we do “Y”, and we mutually agree to drop the suit. We don’t have to do a formal resolution.

Is all publicity good publicity?

LB: It’s all been better for us, publicity-wise. I think a lot of people also think that there’s some sort of point with us trying to get sued. But as artists we’re never trying to…

KW: …it’s not like it’s trying to make us look cool, challenging a large brand like that. It’s a huge pain in the ass. It’s not the point of the work. I don’t think any of the major lawsuits that we’ve ever had has come from a project where we were expecting to have them. We’ve been shocked.

What about the Boston Dynamics robot dog?

LB: That never resulted in any lawsuit. Although they did release some statements…

KW: We bought that thing. We can do whatever we want. Honestly, it’s shocking that they could deactivate it. Like, can Apple nuke my laptop right now? Because they don’t like that I’m talking to you?

That was a project with a serious point. It was an anti-war protest.

KW: Yeah. They got their start with military funding. [In its early days, the company received significant funding from the US military, notably the Defense Advanced Projects Agency (DARPA). It has since pivoted to commercial sales.]

The Satan Shoes had your blood in them. Did that present manufacturing difficulties?

LB: The blood actually came from all of us [ie: the MSCHF staff]. And it was early on enough that we were personally making all of the shoes ourselves.

You’ve made a point of not repeating yourselves. Except, maybe, in trainers and fine art. What’s the appeal of those categories?

LB: I think fine art is much more understandable [for us]. We’re coming also from more of a fine art background, so it was a way of looking at the world that made sense. And then footwear was something we completely stumbled into by accident. And then, to be honest, because we got sued by Nike, it seemed there was a reason to continue making shoes.

You weren’t at all sure that the Jesus Shoes would sell, is that right?

LB: That was shocking as well. That was only, like, our seventh project.

KW: In no way were we conceiving them as products. No one would ever wear these, right? We were very far outside of the sneaker world at that time. But there was this whole secondary market dynamic to them. This idea that they were these pseudo-investment vehicles. At the time we were working on the Jesus Shoes, we were kind-of like blindsided by it. I think there was a sense that sneakers as an object were in some kind of cultural ascendancy. But we really did not understand the mechanics of it. I also think there was a bit of making fun of that whole space.

The idea being: who would be the ultimate collab? Well, that would be Jesus?

KW: Yeah, exactly.

Do you like it when celebrities wear your stuff? Drake, for example?

KW: I guess, yeah. It’s a good way to get an idea out there.

Do big brands pitch to you now?

KW: Every once in a while. It depends how big we’re talking. It’s rare that a big brand has any idea what it wants.

Would you be open to collaborating, or is it a flat no?

LB: If you have a good idea that needs an outlet, and someone’s approached you that seems could make that idea happen, maybe it makes sense.

KW: If we’re ever going to do stuff like that, usually the way it works is that if we’ve had an idea, and the only way that we could get it done is to work with a partner to execute it, then we figure out how to make that happen. You were talking about the fine art world earlier. That’s actually how we ended up getting gallery representation. We had this idea for an ATM with a leaderboard on top of it, for your bank balance [the MSCHF ATM Leaderboard, from 2022, displayed participants’ photos, plus their accurate bank balances, on a ranked screen above the cashpoint]. We thought that the only space that could really live would be Art Basel in Miami. So, we had to figure out how to get into Art Basel. And it turns out the only way you can is that you have gallery representation.

LB: We tried to do it by contacting the Basel organisation directly. And they were, like, “Do you want to pay us a lot of money for a corporate [space]?” They didn’t understand what we were trying to do. So, then we went and found somebody that would let us show.

How does MSCHF make money?

KW/LB: [Laugh]

Do you actually make money?

LB: Sometimes!

KW: The line that we always use, which is the most accurate, is that at the end of the day, we make and sell objects. And that is how MSCHF makes money. What are those objects? Well, obviously, since we have doubled down on sneakers, that’s a line that has been a recurring vertical with MSCHF. Sometimes it’s, you know, car keys.

Can you talk about the Big Red Boot? Did you have any inkling it would go as nuts as it did?

LB: I don’t think anybody could have ever expected it to go as nuts as it did. Because I don’t think any shoes have really gone as nuts as quickly. It was one of the greatest peaks, and then declines, of any object I’ve ever seen in my life. I think we thought it would do well. I don’t think we had any idea where, how big it was gonna get.

KW: We thought it was an image that could travel. It had a lot going for it. Did we think that people would buy it as a product? I mean, again, no. There’s always a question of how people are going to interact with something like that. One of the things that we have often talked about is the difference between putting images into the world and putting objects into the world. And the Big Red Boot is like a great example of the extra potency of objects. Which is basically: that other people can then make more images of them, right? It’s a pretty interesting case study from that perspective.

Although, for us, it was one of these things that rapidly escaped our control. Like we were talking about with the car keys, and some of these other things. There’s a performance that is done not by us, right? There’s a life to these things that’s in the hands of the crowd. So when Lukas is talking about the incredible peak-to-valley contrast of the Big Red Boot, we were trying to take what was originally, you know, a cartoonish form, and basically execute it at a very high production standard, and position it as a fashion object. And it had this spike where it was sort of being perceived in that vein. And then, as it proliferated everywhere, it became this inescapable meme. It was just so saturated onto Instagram that people really got annoyed by it, and it sort of roughly collapsed back into this jokey thing. It was a real whiplash moment for us, where we were trying to do this context transposition, and it sort of like jumped into a new context and then like slingshotted all the way back to where it started.

LB: It was interesting! You get to try to elevate it, and then it just imploded.

KW: Right. We were sort of upset at the time.

Because people had misunderstood it?

LB: Well, I think at first, they didn’t. As soon as it launched, it had a lot of interest as an image. And was really put on a pedestal. I’ve never seen so many inbound people asking us to give them stuff to take a photo with, and how much they would offer to buy it for. And then the fakes started being made of it. As soon as that happened, it just it devalued the image so much. And people started wearing it in ways that were really bad.

KW: It was very briefly this really highly desirable thing. And then it very quickly became this “avoid at all costs” thing. What’s the opposite of a desirable commodity? Anti desirable?

You can’t honestly be grumbling that someone has bootlegged one of your products?

KW: We do think it’s funny now, actually. Because as we sat down to write about it for the book, the more we came to appreciate its whole life cycle. And now when we come to The Free Movie project, with the hand drawn frames… We initially ran it with Bee Movie with Jerry Seinfeld. And not just because the pun worked with the name, but because this intellectual property that has this second life that has only been shaped by the way the internet relates to it, right?

Like it was a completely forgettable, stupid movie. But the one line where [Seinfeld’s character] Barry B. Benson says “You like jazz?”, out of context, just proliferated so heavily online. Like nobody has seen that movie, but basically everybody knew that one little five-second snippet, right? So, it had this totally crowd-mediated life. So, I think we had a knee-jerk reaction that, we lost control of the Big Red Boot. But it’s also that encapsulation of a particular way that the internet owns things that, generally, we really like. So I do think we came back around to it, when we had some distance.

Is your job as fun as it looks?

LB: Yeah, it probably is.

My favourite MSCHF fact is that one of your employees, Josh Wardle, invented Wordle. It sounds like something you’d make up. But it’s true, right?

LB: He did that before joining MSCHF. Literally, the two weeks before he joined. And then it exploded. And then he worked with us for, like, two years, and then he left. Honestly, he had some pretty big, pretty big things to work on himself. But, yeah, it’s totally true.

Made by MSCHF by Lukas Bentel and Kevin Wiesner with Karen Wong is published by Phaidon priced £59.95.

"Thrilling and terrifying all at once." That's how you could describe Chloe Qisha's rise to fame. So it's only natural that her latest single, "Sex, Drugs, & Existential Dread" is a raw extension of herself. Despite the whirlwind-paced industry, the Malaysian-born pop artist has declared to be "the biggest homebody", happiest lounging on the couch with her cats. Sure there's a little anxiety in the mix, but what's the excitement without a touch of existential dread?

Her latest single, "Sex, Drugs, & Existential Dread", might sound heavy but the upbeat melodies and subtle hints of funk-disco (a Chloe Qisha signature) say otherwise. Fresh off the success of a sensational debut EP in 2024, and recent sold-out shows in Manchester and London, Chloe's turning her late-night overthinking into a dream for all. It may just be the beginning for Chloe but it's already clear she's a force in the making.

We dig deep into Chloe's creative process and the inspiration behind her latest single "Sex, Drugs, & Existential Dread". From her playful yet introspective approach to songwriting, to what it's really like navigating the highs and lows of the music industry.

ESQUIRE SINGAPORE: You’ve described "Sex, Drugs, & Existential Dread" as what would be life without a bit of existential dread. Was there a particular moment or experience that sparked the idea for this track?

CHLOE QISHA: Yes! Me, Rob Milton (my producer) and Mary Weitz were listening to "Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll" by Ian Dury and one of us said “what would be the modern version of that title today?” And we joked around saying things like "Sex, Drugs and Pilates", "Sex, Drugs and Green Juice" and then someone or other said "Existential Dread". That had one hell of a ring to it, so we decided to roll with it.  

ESQ: What headspace were you in when you composed "Sex, Drugs, & Existential Dread"?

CQ: I was definitely in a silly, jokey mood. Just over the moon to be working with two of my favourite people to write songs with.

ESQ: What was your process in writing this single or in general?

CQ: We usually start listening to reference songs in the studio (it can be anything we’ve been inspired by, or something we’ve been listening to a lot recently), and then Rob will usually start playing something and we’ll start top lining from there.

ESQ: Your debut EP was well-received; how was making "Sex, Drugs, & Existential Dread" compared to your previous work?

CQ: Writing "Sex, Drugs, & Existential Dread" felt no different to writing the songs that we released in the last EP. They were all written within a similar time frame last year, so really it was just about picking which batch of tracks were going to be released first. 

ESQ: With "Sex, Drugs, & Existential Dread", do you feel like you’re stepping into a new era of your artistry, or does this feel more of a natural evolution from your debut EP?

CQ: Definitely the latter, most of the songs you’ve heard were written within the same time frame, so it definitely felt like the songs we released this year are a nice progression from the EP last year. 

ESQ: With your previous single, what does being a "21st Century Cool Girl" mean to you?

CQ: A "21st Century Cool Girl" is definitely a way of being! A quiet confidence, and a journey of learning to love and appreciate all versions of themselves.

ESQ: Do you think you embody the "cool girl" archetype?

CQ: Yes! At least I try! She’s definitely more evident when I’m doing things like performing live. 

ESQ: Who are the women in music—past or present—that define "cool" for you?

CQ: Right now? Charli, Chappell, Sabrina, Tate... all the girlies! 

ESQ: What are you listening to at the moment?

CQ: Djo, ABBA, Tate McRae and me.

ESQ: Is there a line in the song that listeners might not immediately catch but carries a deeper meaning for you?

CQ: "Till all the silly boys in filthy cars they left their scars, that cut me deep" is about all the super average boys I was hopelessly in love with in High School whom I'd placed on a pedestal. I blame it on the hormones.  

ESQ: Listening to "21st Century Cool Girl" for the first time, it felt like a love letter to your younger self. What's something your teenage self would think about the artist you’ve become today?

CQ: I would like to think she’d be in awe of what we’ve achieved in such a short space of time. I also hope she’d feel empowered that we took the time to grow and feel settled and confident in ourselves before releasing music into the world. 

ESQ: What’s a song of yours that means something different to you now than when you first wrote it?

CQ: "Scary Movie" was the first song I wrote with my collaborator Rob. We initially wrote it about my apprehension about doing music full-time, and my anxiety about putting songs out in the world. Now I look at the song and it fills me with such joy, mainly because it marks the inception of our friendship and this incredible journey so far—it's the song that started it all.

ESQ: As an up-and-coming artist in the industry, do you feel pressured to be perceived in a certain way?

CQ: In some ways yes, and in some ways no. I count myself really lucky that I took the time to develop behind the scenes for a long time before I started releasing music, so I think I know myself really well—my frontal lobe is fully developed (all those good things)—so everything I put out into the world is very authentic to me. I rarely second-guess myself these days. So as long as I keep creating things and doing things that resonate with the person I am right now I don’t think you can go wrong with how that influences other's perceptions of you. 

ESQ: You mentioned that you treated each day like you were in some 90s rom-com; what's your favourite rom-com? 

CQ: Gosh, there are so many. My go-tos are You’ve Got Mail with Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan. I also love Under The Tuscan Sun with Diane Lane. 

ESQ: What’s something about being a musician that no one has prepared you for?

CQ: The feeling when you leave a stage after a great show. It’s an immeasurable happiness that leaves you wanting more.

"Sex, Drugs, & Existential Dread" is available to stream

Multi-talented artist, Afgan is one of Indonesia’s most celebrated artists. His trophy case backs this up, amassing critical recognition not just in Indonesia, but in the region. But he seems ready to burst out of the bubble he’s created for himself. Collaborations alongside global stars like Jackson Wang and Robin Thicke seem like just the start in the 35-year-old’s bid to break into a wider audience. But Afgan’s focus remains steadfastly on the artistry of things; the things he can control, the sounds he’s chasing—his true love, R&B.

Now, with the release of his new EP “Sonder”, Afgan delves deeper than ever before, exploring themes of insecurity, trauma, and the universal struggle for connection. In this exclusive interview, he opens up about reclaiming his artistic freedom, navigating the delicate dance between serving his loyal Indonesian fanbase while reaching for global audiences, and crafting music that feels like a heartfelt conversation with a friend.

ESQUIRE SINGAPORE: How would you describe your current sound?

AFGAN: When I was a kid, I was influenced by a lot of Black singers. So, I guess R&B is in my blood—that's how I sing. But it’s basically pop-infused with soul and R&B.

ESQ: You exploded onto the music scene with ballads. What caused the shift towards where you are now?

AFG: It’s because, well, when I first started, I was pretty much controlled by the label I was at. They felt like my voice suited vocal ballads, so we kept releasing ballads. Those songs became timeless; everybody loves them even now. But deep down, I always wanted to do R&B. So, around 2020 or 2021, I started releasing R&B records, and I’ve continued that up until now.

ESQ: Was that something the label was okay with? Or was there pushback?

AFG: The first label I was with—well, we only did two albums, and then I moved to my current label. They’re very supportive of what I want to do. Now, I have complete freedom to release what I want. That said, the ballads are still a big part of my DNA, and I’ll always have to do both. R&B and ballads—they’re just who I am. My current team work with me not just as a job. They genuinely care about my well-being and want me to feel fulfilled in what I do.

ESQ: Say you’re curating a festival lineup of artists who inspire you. What would be your dream lineup?

AFG: Ooo okay…I pretty much listen to the legends—90s pop and R&B. I love Michael Jackson, Whitney Houston, Janet Jackson, Brian McKnight. I was so honoured to sing with Brian McKnight this year when he came with David Foster to Jakarta. It was surreal because I grew up emulating his singing, and suddenly, I’m on stage with him. It’s crazy—anything can happen.

ESQ: You’ve received an impressive array of awards. Is there one moment of recognition that holds special meaning for you, and why?

AFG: I’d say the MAMA Awards in Korea. In high school, I listened to a lot of K-pop—Big Bang, G-Dragon, that generation. I used to watch them perform at the MAMA Awards and imagined myself up there someday. A few years back, I won the Best Asian Artist Indonesia at MAMA. It felt like a full-circle moment.

ESQ: Your recent works reflect personal themes and vulnerabilities. Is it emotionally challenging to dig up old pasts and confront them?

AFG: Actually, it’s quite healing. Writing songs is like journaling. When you have so much going on in your mind, writing helps you structure it. It gives purpose to the emotions.

ESQ: Do you think artists should give themselves space to heal before creating art from their experiences?

AFG: For me, it can happen simultaneously. Sometimes, when you really feel the pain and write it out, it helps you see things from a different perspective. That process gives your pain a purpose—it helps others feel less alone.

ESQ: Do you have a story you've been wanting to tell through your music but haven't found the right way to express yet?

AFG: Certain things I’m still processing. If I don’t know how to articulate something, I can’t convert it into lyrics. But once I’ve learned and understood it, I’ll be able to write about it.

There’s so much emotion, and it’s hard to pinpoint one thing. Sometimes you need time to heal, but other times, writing helps you process it.

ESQ: What personal experiences does your new EP, “Sonder” touch on?

AFG: I talk about insecurities and the fear of getting deeper into relationships because of past trauma. It’s about protecting yourself while navigating love and vulnerability.

ESQ:  How do you balance staying authentic to your roots while appealing to a global audience?

AFG: That’s something I’m still figuring out. It’s challenging [to find] a middle ground that appeals to both my Indonesian fans and new listeners globally. My last EP was in English, but I plan to continue writing in Bahasa because it’s a part of me. I’ll do a mix moving forward.

ESQ: What do you hope listeners will feel after listening to your new EP?

AFG: I hope they feel less alone, like they have a friend. Sonder is about the idea of everyone having their own stories, their own struggles. Even if my life seems fun on the surface—touring, travelling—behind the scenes, we all go through real struggles. I want my music to connect people and remind them that we’re all the same.

Konstantin Chaykin does not fit neatly into any box, though at first glance, you might think otherwise. His silver-streaked hair and thin wire-framed glasses suggest a man rooted in tradition, the kind you’d expect to find hunched over a workbench, crafting intricate mechanisms. And you’d be right—partly. But what lies beneath is a man whose playful imagination gave life to pieces like the Carpe Diem—a timepiece depicting Chronos, the Greek god (who birthed time) holding a functional hourglass integrated into its dial, to a Minion-themed titanium watch priced at nearly SGD30,000.

I had the privilege of exchanging a few words with Chaykin at IAMWATCH, a bustling watch fair which brought together watchmakers, collectors, and enthusiasts alike. Here, he shared more about the release of his new creation, the ThinKing—a watch measuring a mere 1.65mm in thickness. To put that into perspective, this is the thinnest mechanical watch in existence. If that doesn’t blow your mind, consider the level of ingenuity required for an independent watchmaker to not only craft such a marvel, but out-thin(k) the colossal watchmaking houses.

The ThinKing borrows from Chaykin’s acclaimed “Wristmon” series, known for their humanlike charm. Two “eyes” on the face of the watch—formed by hour and minute displays—are framed by a steel case engraved with the brand’s signature to form a smile. Instead of sandwiching the K.23-0 movement—a manually wound calibre offering up to 32 hours of power reserve—between two steel surfaces, the movement is woven directly into the case to maximise thinness. Every detail, from the Swiss lever escapement to the ultra-thin winding barrel and double balance system with a geared clutch all work together towards a singular truth: create the thinnest damn watch possible.

But engineering such thinness comes with its own set of challenges. Chaykin had to design a patented strap, crafted from alligator leather with elastic inserts and titanium supports, to manage the inevitable twisting and stress of wear. The result? Not only the world’s thinnest watch, but also one of the lightest.

To step into a ring dominated by giants like Bvlgari and Richard Mille takes audacity—or madness. Perhaps both. What kind of person willingly takes on such a challenge? Does Chaykin ever dream up ideas so absurd that even he hesitates? These questions swirled in my mind as I delved deeper into his story.

“Too crazy? No.” Chaykin said with a slight shrug when I finally asked him. “I’ve had a lot of challenges in my life. From the start, my watchmaking path has been a challenging strategy—almost crazy. If you check my timepieces, from the first to the last, I try not to create classic watches. I always find some crazy challenge for myself, for my soul, because life should not be boring.” 

The whimsical

This spirit of whimsy and daring can be ambiguously used to sum up Chaykin’s work, particularly in his pursuit of the absurd through the “Wristmon” series. Take the Minions Titanium watch, for instance, which features “eyes” for hour and minute displays. But here, the phases of the moon form the mischievous smile of a minion, while the pupils and tongue shift with time, lending the timepiece almost a personality of its own. It may come to you as a surprise, but there aren’t actually tiny minions running around beneath the dial rotating gears and the lot. Instead, the in-house K.18-15 automatic calibre keeps everything running smoothly, offering a 42-hour power reserve.

Although the world may primarily think of Chaykin as the creator of the “Wristmon” series due to all the acclaim he has received because of it, that is not how he views himself. Far from it.

“I see myself more as an artist than anything,” he says. It’s a perspective that explains his refusal to be confined by the traditional boundaries of watchmaking. If you study the work of great artists throughout history, you’ll see they weren’t defined by a single collection or work. Their legacy as a whole is an evolution. This is what Chaykin envisions for himself—long after his loupes have magnified its last balance wheel.

The classical

One piece we feel encapsulates this dynamic particularly well is The Cinema. Look no further than its rectangular frame, vintage typography carved into silver dials, and a mesmerising Clous de Paris guilloché finish decorating the dial. It is as its name suggests—a watch inspired by cinema. But what sits at 6 o’clock is its defining feature. A disc with 12 frames depicts a galloping horse, creating the illusion of motion—an ode to the first-ever motion picture of a horse and its rider in 1873. The in-house KCM-01-0 movement works overtime to power not only the timekeeping side of things, but also the animation sequence. All this is housed within a 37mm x 47mm steel case, only 12mm thick. Despite the brilliance of this concept, Chaykin has yet to turn it into a collection, more than 10 years since its inception.

For a man like Konstantin Chaykin, the idea of strictly sticking to a brand’s borders is boring. “It might be good for business since many people prefer that kind of consistency—DNA is great for business. But not for creativity, not for me.” And that, perhaps, is the heart of Chaykin’s philosophy. An artist trapped in the body of a watchmaker, where the watches he crafts are not just instruments of time, but manifestations of his restless creativity.

Your initial confusion is understandable. It would be one of countless instances where Elijah Woods had folks do a double-take at his name. No accident, as you’ll learn later. His appearance, however, is a different story. Towering at a lean 1.94m, there aren’t too many lookalikes you’d mistake him for. The height certainly lends well to the photoshoot.

Woods speaks freely, professionally yet affably; giving the sense that he isn’t the type to conceal his opinions, because it’s nothing too personal. The Canadian-born musician has no qualms delving into the insane past year he had turning 30. What he calls the most polarising time of his life featured big highs and lows—falling out with a close friend; marrying the love of his life; selling out his Asia tour; contracting a lung infection that put a pause on his singing…

Oh, you thought we were done? Moving to Los Angeles. Adopting a retired show corgi. We wouldn’t say it’s too storied a trajectory as his career. Musically influenced since young, Woods’ path (apart from having teenage NBA dreams humbled) comprised deejaying and producing. It was only after going solo off a duo act—established in college that later won a reality TV competition, see what we said about storied—when the musician started to find his voice. Somewhat literally.

Bootleg YouTube lessons plus basic ones with a real vocal coach found results in a song he eventually performed. One too much his own for another to express. Needless to say, “Lights” did more than ok. Going from full expertise in tuning anyone’s voice into a decent hit to the unmediated vulnerability of singing live, Woods has had quite a journey. His latest single, “Could You Love Me”, marks a new chapter.

Like the interview, he takes it all in good stride.

ESQUIRE SINGAPORE: I heard you were up at 5.30am, and went for a run.

ELIJAH WOODS: I did. It was hot. I was kind of getting up anyway.

ESQ: Is this something you do every morning?

EW: I don’t get up at five every morning, but I do work out most mornings. It just starts my day off. We have a hot tub and a cold plunge [back home in LA] so I do that after and it wakes me right up. Then I drink six litres of coffee and I’m good to go.

ESQ: You were here last year as well.

EW: Yeah, for my first time, so this is the second time in Singapore. I’ve never been to Asia prior, so it was pretty wild. We announced the tour and it sold out so fast. The venue’s small but I just didn’t expect people to show up. It’s so weird I made all this music in a bedroom in Canada, and the fact that it resonates over here is nuts. It’s pretty surreal and very, very cool. I remember people showing up [for me] at the airport. I was like, who do you think I am?

ESQ: “Elijah Wood”. You do have a song titled after the actor, on top of many stories of mistaken identity.

EW: I tried to get him in the music video. I got his number from a mutual friend and texted him, sent him the song. Ignored. But yeah, I always get Lord of the Rings questions on emails and social media. I always respond yes, that’s totally me. I was in that movie, I was incredible, great time. We made the strategic decision to keep it since it is my actual name. My mother named me that pre-him becoming famous. And he doesn’t have social media, so I’ll get all his traffic on top of mine.

ESQ: What would’ve been your stage name if you had to have one though?

EW: [ponders] I don’t know, I haven’t thought about it too much. I deejayed in high school and I went by DJ Baseline, because it has “ELI” in it like Elijah? It was terrible, awful. I would not go back there. I actually sold merch when I was a kid too. Tank tops with “DJ Baseline” and I made so much money. When you’re 15, CAD700 felt like I was rolling in money. My friend still has one, pulled it out the other day and I was like, those are legacy. Probably worth money now.

ESQ: You should sign them as “DJ Baseline”. If you weren’t doing anything involving music, what would you be doing?

EW: I think I’d be in tech. I love tech. A YouTube tech reviewer. I would have made my world into that. It’s super nerdy but I’ll get into something and won’t stop until I figure it out. I picked up cameras a couple of years ago and bought all the best gear, and learned everything I could about lenses and focal lengths. Then I dove into lighting, editing, the whole thing. Or, a barista. I make pretty good coffee at home. I have the whole set up and I love coffee. You can’t even tell this is like my third one today.

ESQ: Would you describe yourself as a bit of a control freak?

EW: Massive. To the point where it’s a little bit debilitating. I get frustrated with people on my team who are extremely good at what they do, but if it’s not done exactly how I want it to, [I’ll want to] go back to redo everything myself. I hold myself to a very high standard but it’s impossible to be perfect. The best thing you can do sometimes is just focus on what you’re good at and trust the people around you to support. I feel really fortunate. I have a lot of control in my career. I own and publish all my own music. It’s a double-edged sword as you are very invested in the outcome, good or bad.

ESQ: Do you think you are learning to let go a little more as you get older?

EW: I’m more specific. When I was younger, I was throwing things and seeing what stuck. Now that I have a few things that have worked, it gives a colour palette of what the standard is and how to achieve that or better. There’s less ambiguity in decisions, which almost makes it easier but more meticulous. The creative process is not affected as much but the refining and perfecting are. Age is also a scary thing too. You can’t ignore it. Like, how much longer can you be a pop boy? But I’m grateful, I’m blessed with great genes. I drink a lot of water and sleep early. My wife is a very responsible sleeper. She likes us being in bed at 10 o’clock. She’s like, I want you to look young forever.

ESQ: You’ve mentioned that you knew she was the one for you within days.

EW: It was quick. Like too fast. I’m glad she felt the same way ‘cause I would have sounded crazy. We were supposed to be on one date but I ended up staying at her place that weekend. Then I told her that I love her. It was a lot. We met through a mutual friend when reconnecting. The first message that I sent her was a DM on Instagram. When I met her family, I knew instantly that they were lovely and amazing, and families reflect who you are deep down. Our vows are so funny. During the rehearsal I go into great detail of the moment I knew this was going to happen, while she told this vague thing of the way she loves me, and it’s only because she’s not that kind of communicator. I told her she’s gotta rewrite that how I would want to hear it, she did and I was sobbing at our wedding. It was very, very sweet. Little things like that.

ESQ: How would you define love?

EW: I don’t think I have anything too insightful about it. It’s instinctual and there are phases of emotion, but what it comes down to is a willingness to put an effort. It’s prioritising that ahead of everything else. It’s constant work, and not in a bad way. It has its seasons, so just riding with the ebbs and flows while making sure you [feel] connected; communicating that I’m there for you no matter what. For us, we’re very respectful of each other’s independence. We move at our own pace but we come together to help each other. We all communicate on certain wavelengths, so your version of love might be quite different from mine. It comes down to what you need, and I found somebody who complements what I need.

ESQ: Another thing you feel strongly about is making music independently, which you’ve broken down the financial sense behind. Do you see yourself helping other musicians in this area in the future?

EW: Yes and no. I have visions of eventually starting a non-predatory record label, but it’s very difficult to run a business because it is capitalism at the end of the day. The reason I would want to do it is to put on artists that I really believe in, but the only way you’re able to afford that is by signing three or four artists to the label. They’re paying for all the overhead for the rest. Then if one artist does really well, you have to allocate more reserves to them then other ones start to fall off. So it’s a delicate balance. It’s one of those things that would be an ultimate goal but I haven’t figured out the way to do it yet. I feel lucky because I had some money upfront from previous projects, and I don’t have to pay a producer because I have those skills. I literally upload my music directly to my fans and do my own marketing.

ESQ: Would you feel like you’re also in a bigger competing pool since the process of making music is so democratic now?

EW: There’s a mindset that music is competitive and there’s only a fixed number of spots in a genre. There are certain business scenarios where sure, I wouldn’t put a show the same week another artist is if we’re likely to have similar audience profiles. But there are a gajillion people in the world and I’m not going to be tugging at the exact same heartstrings. The audience I find is unique to me. So it’s about being an authentic version of you. People can see through any sort of marketing ploy, especially when it’s so direct on social media. I wouldn’t have a career without social media. You had to have a record label trying to make it in the ’90s and ’00s, and it cost a lot of money. I’m a product of technology, and I truly appreciate that. Even the fact that I can come here to see one person is really cool too. A comment on the screen is one thing, seeing someone sing along to the lyrics in person or just saying what’s up in a meet-and-greet is very special.

The interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

Photography: Shawn Paul Tan
Creative Direction and Styling: Asri Jasman
Art Direction: Joan Tai
Hair: Christvian Wu using DYSON
Makeup: Kat Zhang at THE SUBURBS STUDIOS using DIOR BEAUTY
Photography Assistant: Chay Wei Kang
Styling Assistant: Erica Zheng
Makeup Assistant: Sophie Soh at THE SUBURBS STUDIOS

In the heart of Panzano, a tiny Tuscan village of just over 1,000 souls, stands an unassuming butcher shop that has become a pilgrimage site for food lovers worldwide. Here, Dario Cecchini—an eighth-generation butcher whose family has practised the craft in the same spot for 250 years—works tirelessly from dawn to dusk, seven days a week. Through his hands, the humblest cuts of meat are transformed into dishes that honour both tradition and innovation, earning him recognition from the likes of Anthony Bourdain and The New York Times, which dubbed him “The World’s Greatest Butcher”.

But what does a title like that entail? I spend a day at his Singaporean outpost at the Mondrian Singapore Duxton, Bottega di Carna, to understand the man behind the cheeky moustache, and experience just what 250 years of heritage tastes like.

ESQUIRE SINGAPORE: Who is Dario Cecchini? 

DARIO CECCHINI: I come from a very tiny village in Panzano—there are not even 1,000 people in our village. I’m the butcher of our little town, and I continue to be just that. There’s no director of our butcher shop, no manager—it’s just me running everything. 

By 7 or 8 o’clock in the morning, I’d already spent an hour on the phone organising all the work and setting up the day. I work every day, seven days a week, usually for 13 or 14 hours a day.

There’s no holiday, no days off unless I’m travelling for work. But it’s not just about keeping things going to make more money. My family has been butchers for eight generations—that’s 250 years of doing the same work in the same place. Next year will mark my 50th year as a butcher in my shop in Panzano. 

ESQ: What does it mean to be a famous butcher? 

DAR: Our town is starting to become well-known, even famous, partly thanks to our butcher shop. For me, being called famous is important only because it brings more people to my little town. That’s what matters to me. 

It’s nice when I’m travelling outside my town, and someone recognises me—on a plane, for example and they ask for a picture. I always joke and say, “Come to Ponzano first, then we’ll take a picture.”

So, being famous, for me, is about representing my community. We’re so small [that] we need to show up in some way. 

ESQ: Do you have any stories of your community? 

DAR: I rarely sit down for lunch or dinner, but there’s a single moment in my day when I take a break. Every day, I pass by my barber around the corner—just 50 metres from my shop. He’s 84 years old, and every day he insists that I come in.

He doesn’t want me to pay him. He says, “You represent our town. Your moustache has to look good, and your hair has to look good because you represent all of us.” When I’m out of town, I have to send him a picture so he knows everything’s okay. (It’s not okay right now—the humidity is a challenge!) 

My barber says, “I’ve become famous at 84 years old thanks to you.” He’s even ended up in tour guidebooks. “Go to the butcher and the barber,” it says. So, that’s what makes me happy if someone wants to call me famous. 

ESQ: Is there a cut of meat that’s underrated? Or something people should appreciate more? 

DAR: Growing up, we ate all the cuts that were harder to sell in the shop—trotters, muzzle, blood. My grandmother would turn these into beautiful dishes. But it wasn’t just about saving money; it was about respecting the animal and not wasting anything. 

I didn’t eat my first T-bone steak until my 18th birthday. That was a special gift, symbolising my transition from boyhood to manhood. 

One of my favourite dishes at our restaurant in Panzano is boiled beef knees. Chef Kenny here in Singapore does a fantastic job with them too. You boil the knees, which have both meat and tendon, and use the broth to make a warm salad with julienned carrots, onions, and celery. 

ESQ: Do you have a must-eat dish for all visitors coming to Bottega di Carna? 

DAR: For sure—tartare. My tartare. Another standout menu item is Chef Kenny’s Oxtail Agnolotti. These are butcher’s cuts, and they’re truly special. It’s hard to choose, but those are two of my favourites. 

ESQ: What about a dish that holds the most sentimental value for you? 

DAR: Being a butcher is perhaps one of the most difficult jobs in the food world. We’re talking about taking the life of an animal. It’s our responsibility to ensure the animals have a good life and a compassionate death. 

For me, our tartare represents that respect. It’s made from one of the toughest cuts of the animal—not the tenderest. We take this hard-working muscle, full of flavour, and tenderise it into a beautiful dish. 

It symbolises the work of a butcher—carefully choosing and preparing a cut so that it’s absolutely delicious. It’s a way to honour the animal and show that every part can be equally special. 

ESQ: I know you’ve served many big names like Anthony Bourdain and Stevie Wonder. Do you have a favourite customer or any memorable stories? 

DAR: Actually, Anthony Bourdain would probably be that person. The last time he came to our shop for lunch was just a week before he passed away. I gave him one of my aprons as a gift and tied it around his head. 

We were friends. I remember waving goodbye to him—it was springtime—as he walked away down the road. I said, “Antonio, we’ll see you in August for your next holiday.” That was the last time we saw him. He was a very special person.

Dario Cecchini is, above all, a sentimental man

But you’ve probably already surmised this based on the brief conversation we shared. Typically, interviews like these undergo considerable condensation and polishing for the sake of clarity and flow. Yet, I felt little edits were necessary here. Cecchini and I don’t speak the same language—his tongue Italian, mine Chinese, with no common bridge in English. His words were carried to me entirely through the graceful translation of his wife. Yet, as we sat diagonally across from one another at a small square table in his restaurant, Bottega di Carna, I realised we didn’t need words for me to grasp his passion and character. His warm smile, gesticulating hands, an excerpt from The Divine Comedy printed on the menu, and even his business card—tucked with salt as a traditional gift symbolising good luck—all spoke to me.

This theme of translation—of words, of passion, of emotions—would echo throughout my experience at his restaurant. As dusk settled and the space gradually filled with members of the media, it was time to explore the dishes Cecchini had so passionately described.

The meal began with a flourish: Dario’s Signature Steak Tartare, the dish to which he attaches the most sentimental value to due to how it encapsulates his zero-waste philosophy. The leanest and toughest cuts of beef are given new life here, though you’d never guess from tasting it. Each component stands out yet works in harmony—Chianti salt unlocks the beef’s natural flavour, lemon adds a vibrant brightness, and Tuscan olive oil coats the back of my tongue.

A standout element is the Beef tendon—a cut uncommon in Italian cuisine reimagined through an arduous process of freezing and frying to create delicate cracker puffs which add textural contrast. The flavours in the dish aren’t intense, far from it—they’re subtle, almost meditative. I had to close my eyes to extract the flavours of the tartare, but in doing so, helped me discern how each ingredient elevated the others. Raw, honest, and unpretentious, it’s no wonder this is Cecchini’s signature dish.

The Basket Tortelli follows up satisfyingly like a warm embrace. The al dente pasta, slightly gummy to the bite, cradles a hearty butternut squash and pumpkin filling, while a pool of Parmigiano Reggiano fondue blankets each piece. Sweetness from the squash meets the creamy, nutty depth of the cheese, achieving a remarkable balance of flavours—all without a hint of meat. Not bad for a butcher.

Next came the Oxtail Agnolotti. In this dish, six-hour-braised oxtail is infused with herbs and vegetables, blended into a velvety filling, and encased in pasta. These parcels float in a capon consommé—a broth made from castrated rooster, known for its richer and slightly sweeter flavour, as Chef de Cuisine Kenny Huang notes whimsically. The robust broth, in contrast with tender Agnolotti creates a deeply comforting bite that’s equally as indulgent.

No visit to Bottega di Carna would be complete without mentioning the Fiorentina T-Bone Bistecca. Before it escapes me, let it be known that the restaurant only uses premium cuts of beef flown in from Viñals Soler, a venerable Spanish butchery with over a century of heritage. My portion was done rarer than I’d prefer, but when the quality of the meat is that high, doneness becomes almost an afterthought. Succulent, well-marbled, and buttery, with a distinct dry-aged funk that emerged with each chew—this was simply put, an excellent steak.

Cecchini, with his warm-hearted smile, mischievous eyes, and unlimited knowledge, is a sort of magister of the flesh. In the same way, my interview with him was translated through his wife, Bottega Di Carna served as a vessel in which his culinary philosophy was seamlessly communicated—respectful, comforting, and sustainable. What you eat from Cecchini are monuments of a tradition, but in the same way, they do not retrace the entire road— choosing a more conscious and poetic attitude towards his love for butchery.

In his hands, Pim Koeslag holds what might be the most awe-inspiring watch I’ve ever seen in person. I mean, it quite literally compresses the cosmos into something that fits on your wrist. From Mercury's 88-day dash around the sun to Neptune's leisurely 164-year orbit, the solar system is meticulously represented in miniature, set against a hand-painted backdrop inspired by images from the James Webb Telescope.

The Grand Planetarium Eccentric Sincere Platinum Jubilee Edition is, as its name entails, a watch commemorating Sincere’s 70th anniversary and Christian van der Klaauw’s 50th anniversary. Given that Sincere was one of Koeslag’s first customers after he acquired CVDK, it seems only fitting to celebrate this enduring partnership.

“I get a little emotional seeing this beautiful piece,” Koeslag reveals, sitting across from me.

As a master watchmaker turned CEO, he acknowledges the tug-of-war between his passion for watchmaking and the demands of running a company. This tension feels particularly truthful for someone whose genuine love for the craft feels so pure that it’s palpable even in a brief conversation. In just 24 minutes, we delve into this dynamic, the future of the company, and what might very well be the magnum opus of Christian van der Klaauw.

ESQUIRE SINGAPORE: Can you explain the new Grand Planetarium Eccentric Sincere Platinum Jubilee Edition watch? What was the creative vision and inspiration behind it?

PIM KOESLAG: This watch is based on our 50th-anniversary celebration. Christian van der Klaauw established the company in 1974, initially specialising in astronomical world clocks. By 1996, he had created his first wristwatch, miniaturising astronomical mechanisms to fit within a wristwatch. In 1999, he made the world’s smallest mechanical planetarium in a wristwatch.

For this 50th anniversary, we developed the Grand Planetarium Eccentric, a highly sophisticated planetarium watch featuring all eight planets of the solar system orbiting the sun. For example, Mercury’s sphere will orbit once every 88 days, Venus in 224 days, Earth in a year, and Neptune, the slowest, takes 164 years to complete one orbit on the watch.

What makes this model extraordinary is that the planetary orbits are eccentric—just like in reality, they don’t follow perfect circles, reflecting real-life orbital mechanics. The dial was hand-painted by a Geneva-based miniature painter, inspired by an early prototype of Christian’s, which was itself influenced by imagery from the James Webb Telescope.

The painting process involves nine separate components assembled after painting. The planets are hand-painted as well, making this not just a technical marvel but also an artistic masterpiece.

ESQ: The moons on the watch are fascinating. Could you tell us more?

PK: We included moons for Earth, Jupiter, and Saturn. While Saturn has 92 moons and Jupiter has 145, we could only include a select few due to space constraints.

ESQ: As CEO and a master watchmaker, how personally involved were you in the creation of the Grand Planetarium Eccentric Sincere Platinum Jubilee Edition?

PK: Very much involved. I was deeply engaged in every aspect of the creative process, from prototyping to final assembly. I wish I could only do that. But unfortunately, after making a watch, you have to sell it as well and run the company.

Christian sketched initial designs by hand, which we digitised into 3D CAD models. I personally built the prototypes and collaborated with Sincere’s management to refine the design, ensuring it honoured Christian’s vision while incorporating our craftsmanship.

ESQ: What’s next for the brand? Any upcoming projects?

PK: This watch was a major milestone, but we’re continuously innovating. Our focus remains on becoming the world leader in astronomical watches. We really want to do scientific research and make a watch as perfect and as close to the real thing as possible, essentially blending scientific research with high craftsmanship. Future models will push the boundaries of what’s possible in astronomical watchmaking.

ESQ: How do you see the future of astronomical watchmaking evolving, and how does the Grand Planetarium Eccentric contribute to that vision?

PK: I think this watch is already that next evolution. It’s the most accurate depiction of the solar system in a wristwatch, complete with eccentric orbits and all planets. The more in-depth you get in astronomy, the more questions you’ll have and the more ideas pop up for new models. If we write them all down, we’ll have new ideas for the next 50 years.

ESQ: Was it difficult adjusting from being a watchmaker to a CEO?

PK: It happened gradually. My journey began as a watchmaker in Geneva, then as a technical director, and eventually CEO. Becoming an entrepreneur was a bigger shift—it meant taking complete responsibility for the company.

But I think I love this combination because sometimes your head is so full of emails, questions, financial stuff, or press discussions. You just want to sit behind the bench and build something. Watchmaking is really peaceful, it’s therapeutic.

ESQ: What excites you most about this release?

PK: This watch symbolises our partnership with Sincere and our commitment to excellence. Sincere was one of my first customers when I acquired the company, and they believed in the company right away.

It’s the most complicated and refined piece we’ve ever made, blending artistry, technique, and emotion. It's very, very special. I even get a little emotional seeing this beautiful piece.

ESQ: Would you classify this piece as the magnum opus of Christian Van De Klaauw?

PK: Yeah, definitely. It’s as complicated as it gets; from the craftsmanship to the technique, it’s everything.

Nicholas Hoult is no stranger to falling in love onscreen. His impressive filmography is a stacked example of his range as an actor—seamlessly flitting in and out of characters as varied as they come. We've seen him with superhuman powers (and blue fur) as Beast in the X-Men series, portray an overzealous foodie in The Menu, struggle with morals in Juror #2, and more. But perhaps, one of his more memorable roles was in Skins, the teen comedy drama that dabbled with all things coming-of-age, including romance.

In a fitting return to the sort of too-good-to-be-true romance the Brits do so well, Hoult is part of a starry cast of Burberry's latest campaign. "It's Always Burberry Weather: London In Love" is a series of vignettes inspired by late '90s/early 2000s British rom coms that focus on the idyllic, everyday romances of Londoners. Hoult is joined by an A-list cast that includes Academy Award-winning actor Kate Winslet, Aimee Lou Wood, Chen Kun, Jodie Turner-Smith, Micheal Ward, Richard E. Grant, Son Sukku and models David Gandy, Liu Wen and Naomi Campbell. There's even a special guest appearance by a chivalrous Burberry Knight in shining armour—you know, rom com things.

And in the spirit of all things love, Hoult indulges us with Burberry first-loves as well as some of his most cherished moments in life and career.

ESQUIRE: What thoughts immediately come to mind when you think of Burberry?

NICHOLAS HOULT: When I think of Burberry, I think of an elegance, cool and—a classic style with a bit of attitude to it. I think of the check pattern. I think of trench coats. And I think of Terminal 5 at Heathrow because whenever I land back in London, there are always big Burberry campaigns and posters, so it makes me think of home, which is a nice feeling.

ESQ: What is your earliest memory of Burberry?

NH: My earliest memory of Burberry is when I went to the market when I was a kid in Liverpool. I remember seeing a lot of imitation Burberry—hats and scarves and things. That was the first time I was aware of imitation being flattery and thought that Burberry must be really good if it’s being copied like this. Did I buy any? I don’t know, maybe.

ESQ: Which piece do you treasure most in your Burberry collection?

NH: I have a black Burberry trench coat. The Burberry trench coat is so iconic and the perfect piece to have in your wardrobe. You can wear it anywhere, at any time. It feels classy and you can dress it up or dress it down. That’s what I go to a lot when getting dressed in the mornings.

ESQ: What drew you to the campaign?

NH: I loved this idea of British rom com and films, and their sensibilities are some of the greatest ever made. I loved the idea of playing tribute to those. And also, there were so many talented people involved so to make something with all of them felt special.

ESQ: What was your favourite moment from the campaign shoot, and do you have any on-set anecdotes?

NH: My favourite moment of the campaign shoot was that I got to drink tea and have biscuits while doing some of the behind-the-scenes. It was also very nice to get dressed up in some Burberry clothes—that felt fun. Also, we got to film on the South Bank with Jodie Turner-Smith, who is someone I’ve wanted to work with for a long time, so that was incredible. I wouldn’t say I loved the rain cannons—it was a bit cold—but I like to feel in the element, so I appreciated the fake rain and the feeling it gave to the scene.

ESQ: What are your favourite things to do in summer?

NH: Go to the park. Get a disposable barbecue and go to the park and enjoy the sunshine with friends and family.

ESQ: What is your most cherished summertime memory?

NH: Probably when I was a kid—being in the garden, riding your bike, making a slip and slide. Things like that are cherished summertime memories for me.

ESQ: What is the best or most memorable advice you have received during your career?

NH: That’s tricky. This isn’t really advise, but in a roundabout way, it is. I read Michael Caine’s book years ago and he talks about how when he was in LA, the bus driver that would drive on the studio lot ended up being the studio president, so he talks about being nice to everyone. Fortunately, I got the chance to work with Michael when I was 14. I was very nervous, and we only did one scene together with a large group. After the scene I went up to him and said, “I know we didn’t really get to act together, but I’m very happy to say I have been in a film with Michael Caine.” He responded and said, “Well I’m happy I can be in a film with Nicholas Hoult.” And that was such a lovely thing for him to say. It meant a lot to me. It’s something I try to pass on—that kindness he showed to me.

ESQ: What attributes attract you to a character when reading a script?

NH: It depends. I try to find varied characters and do something different to what I’ve recently done. Also, an honesty in the writing. It’s something that’s a gut feeling if you connect to the writing and feel like you can add something to creating that character that’s on the page.

ESQ: If you had to live as any of your past characters, who would it be and why?

NH: There could be so many answers to this, but I got to play Tolkien in a movie which is a pretty magical place to pretend to be to try to understand his creativity and imagination. That would be a wonderful place to be. I’m a big Lord of The Rings fan so I could then maybe write more Lord of The Rings stories for myself and everyone else and just enjoy that world a little bit more. 

ESQ: Is there a role you would like to play but haven’t had the chance yet?

NH: I don’t know the answer to that, I won’t know probably until I read it and then will hopefully get the feeling I was just describing.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

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The You You Are

By Joy Ling

Just minutes past midnight, I realise I’m looking at my desktop wallpaper. All apps are closed and the recording on my phone has stopped. The duration reads 29:21. Great, well within limit. I hit the transcribe button and glance outside the room. The house remains dark and still.

See, the study is where I situate myself for the Overtime Contingency Protocol if the interview occurs past evening. It’s the furthest room in the house, preventing the work call from disturbing my family. And to save everyone the awkwardness; vice versa. Daytime however, oversaturates with sunlight and I shift to the wider den since no one else is at home.

There is a peculiar line to toe when profession bleeds out of office parameter. Anyone else reminiscing the glorious time we were merging two things that shouldn’t coexist that way? Just me? It’s probably why the show resonated with viewers when it premiered during the pandemic. It was when we were reckoning with our relationships to our occupations. Reevaluating the meaning we attach to it, and the sense of identity we acquire from it.

In the playback, Britt Lower points out the added meta layer being an actor on Severance. “There’s almost like a Droste effect where Britt goes to work: I go into my trailer and I put on Helena's outfit and assume a new name and identity, as she goes to work under a new name and identity,” she muses before a quick laugh, “The difference being that I enjoy my job for sure.”

Another tangible effect of the process is déjà vu, courtesy of those darn hallways. “We filmed so many scenes in them, there are corners where I’m like, ‘Oh yeah. I remember filming a scene here …like three years ago’,” she recalls wryly.

Fun fact you’re probably dying to know like I was: The set is a stage comprising tons of modular partitions that rearrange for the day according to the scene. Doesn’t help that to get to said set, actors have to navigate somewhat similar-looking hallways. “There’s a kind of recursive quality being in our studio because you’re walking down these hallways to more hallways,” she smirks at the memory. “The maze changes so we do get lost on our way often.”

Other design elements are effectively immersive; the fluorescent lights, golf-green carpets and those stifling, soul-killing windowless rooms. Time is amorphous within the space, but the work-family dynamic between cast and crew is something Lower appreciates.

“You lean on your coworkers to find levity, and we’re fairly easy to entertain. We make up childish games that help us stay awake. Adam [Scott] is often flicking a paper clip at me. We have a healthy balance of seriousness and silliness, and all genuinely enjoy each other’s company between takes.”

The physicality her role encompasses is also what the former high school basketball point guard relishes. Whether it’s sprinting through hallways or smashing glass with a fire extinguisher, playing Helly lets her actively maneuver the strait-laced walls of Lumon.

Yes, Lower has never held a corporate job. Her closest comparison? High school speech team where office attire is default. “There's something about pantyhose and pumps that is super inspiring to Helly’s urge to escape,” she divulges as the thought occurs.

“She wakes up and she's been dressed by someone else. It’s this thing that’s been put on her; this stereotype of feminine office wear. She has no cultural understanding of why she’s wearing it, and couldn’t care less. She goes about as if she’s on a basketball court, not in heels and pantyhose.”

While most innies are generally reticent versions of their outies in the real world, I notice that Lower’s characters interestingly embody the opposite. To her, each of the series’ four horsemen, if you will, represent typical kindergarten classroom archetypes: Teacher’s pet, rule follower, class clown, and rebel.

It may surprise some which archetype she actually relates to most. “I come from a long line of farmers and teachers. I think I've always loved teachers—they’re kind of our first authority figures outside of our parents, right?” she raises with a smile, “Naturally, I didn't necessarily question authority growing up because I like teachers. What Helly has taught me is that there is a time and place to question authority, especially when that authority is infringing upon your humanity and free will.”

“I would say on the whole I like to be a good citizen, but playing Helly over the past four years has given me more strength to advocate for myself where in moments prior, I would never have.”

Severance Season 2 airs 17 January on Apple TV+.

Mikey Madison doesn’t seem like she would be the bad guy. Within the first 30 seconds of our Zoom call, she’s picking up her laptop and carrying it across the room, angling her screen downward to show off her new puppy dozing on the floor of his playpen.

“Can you see him? His name is Jam, because I have a cat named Biscuit.”

Like I said—not very villainous. Madison, off camera, is the type to set up pee pads for her puppy and schedule his training classes. The 25-year-old bakes banana muffins and is forever updating a running Google Doc of actors and directors she hopes to work with one day. Her warm personality and wide smile could make her a Disney Channel darling. But that’s not her speed.

Instead, time and time again, Madison takes on roles as a maniac, a psychopath, a murderer. Most recently she played a luckless stripper from New York who becomes entangled with the son of a Russian oligarch in the subversive not-quite-rom-com Anora, which was a sensation at Cannes last year. That followed roles as a fanatical Manson-cult follower in Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood and as the Ghostface killer in Scream.

“I don't know how I got into a pocket of playing antagonistic characters, but I did. It’s fun,” Madison says. “I’m a good girl, really, and I’ve always been a good girl. I’ve never broken the rules or done bad things, and it’s so interesting to play characters who have, because I feel like I’ve been able to experience it with this safety net underneath me.”

Madison insists that she’s “risk averse,” and I’m sure that’s true when it comes to things like going bungee jumping or driving over the speed limit. But when it comes to her career, she’s been fearless about making bold choices from the start.

The first big decision was to pick acting over horses. “My grandmother was a horseback rider, and my mom was a horseback rider, and so, naturally, I was riding horses before I could walk—or at least sitting on a horse,” she says. As a teen, she was homeschooled so she could spend more time with the horses. The barn was a second home. She could have literally ridden off into the sunset that way. But there was a tickle in her subconscious—a “yearning” for human connection pushing her to try something different.

“I just had a pull towards wanting some deeper connection with other people or wanting to experience something more emotional than what I was doing,” she says. “To me, that decision was simultaneously easy but also painful. I felt that if I started acting, then I’d have to commit myself 100 per cent to it, and I couldn’t do that if I was still committed to horseback riding, which is very time-consuming. And so I let that part of my life go for the time being.”

Both of Madison’s parents are psychologists; she had no connections in the film industry, no friends who had gone into acting. All she had was a gut feeling and a love of classics that she’d inherited from her dad—like Bond films, Marilyn Monroe’s filmography, and, of course, a healthy portion of Quentin Tarantino. Her leap of faith paid off spectacularly. At just 19, Madison was cast in Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood.

“When I finally gave myself permission to fail or to embarrass myself or to not be perfect is when things started happening for me,” she says. Only after she allowed herself to “make a fool” of herself in auditions did the roles she truly wanted start coming in.

Director Sean Baker saw her in Scream on its opening weekend in 2022, and a few days later he called Madison to meet for coffee. He had a proposition: If she agreed to star in Anora, he would start writing the script for her then and there.

It was the first time she hadn’t had to audition and only the second time she’d accepted a part without laying eyes on the script. But there was that gut feeling again. It was a risk, but it barely seemed like one to Madison. Her collaboration with Baker felt “written in the stars.” She worked with Baker to mould the character, did her own stunts on set, took pole-dancing classes and Russian lessons, and visited strip clubs.

All that work paid off in a big way when Anora won the Palme d’Or at Cannes in May. She and Baker were rewarded for the heart, the soul, and the energy that went into making the film. But there was something else that the experience gave Madison. It was the metamorphosis of the actress herself.

“Right before I went into shooting Anora, I grew confidence—not as an actor but as a person,” she says. She’s always been an introvert. As a kid she sometimes felt so shy she had trouble looking people in the eye. Even her family was surprised that she would want to shift into such a public-facing industry, one where, even when you’re loud and brash and confident, it isn’t easy to be heard—much less when you’re a woman, much less when you’re young.

“I think that the kind of actor I am now, because of the experiences I’ve had, I’m confident in my voice and that what I have to say is important,” she says. “Even if someone doesn’t want to listen, I’m still going to share it and tell them. Because as an actor, I’m not a puppet. It’s really important that my voice is heard, because it’s a collaboration, you know?”

Collaboration. It’s the perfect word for her work with Baker. “It’s not a relationship I’ve ever had before,” she says of working with the director. “I think we were just really in tune with each other in terms of the comedy and where the character was going.… I think it changed the relationship, going into the film where we were willing to just try things and take risks.”

It’s something that every adrenaline junkie knows and many of the greatest actors have learned: Once you start taking those risks, it’s pretty damn hard to stop, to go back to a place where things feel easy and familiar. The goal now is different from when Madison started: “I constantly want to be in a place where I never get comfortable. I always want to be pushing myself to learn and become a better actor every day. I don’t think I’ll ever be comfortable enough to be like, Oh, I’ve made it.”

At home with Jam and Biscuit, Madison may still be risk averse. But in her work, she knows that risks aren’t just part of the process—they’re the whole point.

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Photographed by Mark Seliger
Styled by Chloe Hartstein
Hair by Kevin Ryan using GO247 & UNITE
Grooming by Jessica Ortiz for La Mer
Makeup by Rebecca Restrepo using Lisa Eldridge Beauty
Production by Madi Overstreet and Ruth Levy
Set Design by Michael Sturgeon
Nails by Eri Handa using Dior
Tailoring by Yana Galbshtein
Design Director Rockwell Harwood
Contributing Visual Director James Morris
Executive Producer, Video Dorenna Newton
Executive Director, Entertainment Randi Peck

Originally published on Esquire US

Yugyeom is partial to one tattoo. A dandelion etched in a geometric pattern on his right rib, it’s one of possibly nine tattoos that adorn his body. The dandelion stems from a specific childhood memory: walking beneath an underpass, he had spotted a delicate flower sprouting between bricks—a fond colour standing out in an unlikely place.

Enthralled by the flower’s strength despite its fragile appearance, he saw it as a symbol of resilience, especially when he also quickly discovered its fascinating ability to disperse its seeds in the wind. Unsurprisingly, it formed the title of his very first mixtape.

Since then, his life has been anything but slow. Amid 2024 adventures, the first stop in his TRUSTY tour was Singapore. Prior to our chat, the then-27-year-old singer had landed in the city the night before, shot an early AM video with Vogue Singapore, recorded a local radio interview, and spent the late afternoon at a full editorial spread with us.

I’m not sure if lunch was in there somewhere, but he was slated for yet another shoot later that evening before his show the next day. I’m exhausted simply mentally recounting the programme, and can much less imagine living it.

Typical to most folk accustomed to life in front of the camera though, if he was feeling any fatigue, he surely didn’t show it. This visit might be a little more rushed than what his schedule usually accommodates, but when it’s go time, it’s go time.

The K-pop artist stepped into the spotlight with ease, adopting a casual peace as the setup was perfected. Then, upon cue, he switched on a professional charisma that’s so ingrained, it felt less like a mask and more like second nature.

It’s what you’d expect from someone who has spent his adolescence training for and today possesses a decade’s worth of industry experience under his belt. He was unfazed by the echoing awes (there were many) from the crowded crew almost voyeuristically observing his every pose. Wholly focused, yet not missing a beat taking direction from the photographer.

It was just as fun spectating, post-shoot, as the photographer and stylist debated which shots made the final cut. There were too many good ones—a happy problem that’s not as common as you might think, even when including proper models and other field veterans. So picture it, dear reader, the photos you’re seeing are but a sampling of what was captured that day.

What remains most impressive about his social stamina was his sincerity during the conversation. While not fully fluent in the language, Yugyeom made keen effort to pepper words, or at least begin his sentences, in English.

Bright, Spirited, Dandelion

Fans from the start would know that his musicality has changed considerably. After signing with AOMG, he embraced a deeper, edgier aesthetic in establishing himself as a solo act, complete with emo lyrics.

His latest album practically does a 180. It’s a bubblegum beat of catchy hooks and matching visuals. If anything, the vibrant approach genuinely mirrors his energy. Or as he succinctly summed it in four words and a huge grin, “Today’s style, enjoy more.”

In our bilaterally monolingual communication, his attention was unwavering. He read reactions and upheld eye contact, even though he didn’t need to with the translation provided by his staff. Present enough to amusedly tease a verbal quirk I hadn’t myself noticed before.

It’s not hard to believe that this authenticity is shaped by youth. As a kid, his dream to be a dancer was so resounding it inadvertently conveyed as confidence. From dancing through lunchtime, getting older boys to practice together, joining school trip talent shows to eventually getting scouted at dance tournaments.

Even when he hit a slump, where he and BamBam were initially excluded from debut plans, he managed to catch his break after a chance on a reality TV survival contest. Wouldn’t it, at age 16, be immense pressure to perform like your future depended on it? Needless to say, he did ok.

“I didn’t feel as much pressure then, because it was a burden collectively shared with fellow GOT7 bandmates,” he recounted in Korean, “Even now, it’s not the pressure [maintaining a solo career] because it’s what I chose to do, but that I’m very aware of my weaknesses and what I need to work on.

“Because I know,” he used emphatic English as a caricature of himself, or at least his attitude towards his work, “More detail, detail, detail!” Now, his priority is closing the gap between where he currently is and wants to be. He finds himself a little closer now.

Resilient, Determined, Dandelion

If he had to attribute success between luck and hard work, it would be 30 per cent the former and 70 the latter. “My strongest belief is that consistency equals result and improvement,” he explained his drive, “Repetition is tedious, and it’s what people find most challenging, but it’s one of the most important things.”

Practising his craft was effortless when fuelled by pure passion. Now that it’s an occupation, he understands there’s much more to it than that. Maturity turned his frequent wondering about the greener pastures of normal student life into gratitude towards his given position. “I’m lucky enough to enjoy the part that most don’t,” he said, acknowledging his blessings.

You get the sense that under all that sunshine is a closet perfectionist. Though this year marks the 10th in this gig, Yugyeom doesn’t count the same duration fulfilled for his singing capabilities. He may have written his first song at 19, but his devotion to singing only sparked two years later.

There is no frivolous toe-dipping in any endeavour. He only considers it a pursuit when he’s very much invested, a dedication that similarly applies to hobbies like boxing. I mean, for someone who has only ever travelled for work, his concept of an ideal vacation is to chill at home or with friends over drinks.

He’s not sure where he inherited this ethic from but spoke of how his parents regularly instil the value of humility. “My name too,” he earnestly pointed out, “겸 (gyeom) means humble.” For those curious, 유 (yu) translates to have or own. In other words, his parents quite literally wanted him to get humble.

It certainly paid off. He went from being portioned the smallest parts in his early boyband days to finally singing the main chorus. Since the moment he was inspired by Chris Brown at the Grammys to decide to be more than a dancer, Yugyeom has been hitting all the milestones he set for himself.

Looking ahead, there’s a ton he wants to embark on, but growth is ultimately the goal. It’s the motivation to explore new genres and expand his horizons. “It’s something I’m very mindful of. There are artists I look up to who are always evolving,” he explained in native tongue. “I like to keep my fans interested and engage with audiences who may not be familiar with my work; to leave them all guessing my next step.”

With every song, there is no singular message that he is trying to express. Only the core sentiment that each succeeding one demonstrates growth to his fans, his staff and those who choose to surround him. It’s his way of reciprocating the love and support he has been receiving along this journey.

His beam barely ever left his face as he was telling us this. It was like watching a wild dandelion sway; rooted firmly in the ground but ready, at any moment, to ascend into the wind.

Photography: Shawn Paul Tan
Creative Direction and Styling: Asri Jasman
Hair: Christvian Wu using GOLDWELL
Make-Up: Kenneth Chia using JUNGSAEMMOOL BEAUTY
Photography Assistants: Chay Wei Kang and Xie Feng Mao
Styling Assistant: Erica Zheng
Talent Management: AOMG

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