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TNY—09/09/02—PAGE 116—133SC.—LIVE OPI ART—R 11294—CRITICAL CUT TO BE WATCHED THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE PRESS RUN PROFILES I AM FASHION

Guess who Puff Daddy wants to be?

BY MICHAEL SPECTER

he Air France hostess was pleas- lounge looking jumpy. He poured him- Tant but unwilling to compromise. self a cup of tea and took some valerian. “This flight closes in three minutes,’’ He stared unhappily at the oversized she said. “We don’t make exceptions.” Panerai Luminor watch on his wrist. Chuck Bone, who was sitting in the 7:13 A.M. Two minutes to go. Concorde’s first-class waiting lounge A few dozen tastefully dressed men at J.F.K., reached casually for his cell and women with chic handbags and un- phone. It was 7:12 A.M. on a Monday derstated accessories began boarding the in July. The Concorde was scheduled to flight. Still no sign of Combs. For the depart for Paris at eight, and its passen- past three days, he had been in Atlanta, gers generally consider even the briefest at a music-industry event sponsored delay intolerable. Bone, who was wear- by Bad Boy Entertainment, the record ing a blue-and-white tracksuit and had a company he has run for nearly a decade. simple diamond stud in one ear, started There had been a party the final night, talking. “Where are you guys? You need and Combs didn’t leave until around to get him here now. They are closing four in the morning. He was driven di- the flight.” He listened for a moment rectly to his chartered Gulfstream G4 and then turned to the woman in charge jet. By 6:30 A.M., he was on the ground of the lounge. “He is in the airport,’’ he at Teterboro Airport, in suburban New said. “He’ll be at the terminal in five Jersey, but the morning traffic on the minutes.’’ The hostess, who was now George Washington Bridge had begun flanked by three colleagues, was un- to build. moved. “Seven-fifteen and we close it,’’ By seven-twenty-five, the passengers she said.“I am sorry,but Mr. Puff Daddy in the lounge had checked in and most must come by then, or he will have to were already on board. The Air France take another plane.’’ flight attendants were eager to close the Mr. Puff Daddy,the thirty-two-year- door. One was tapping her foot. Every- old rap impresario, restaurateur, cloth- one in the Combs entourage—Tweedy; ing entrepreneur, bon vivant, actor, and Bone, a friend from high school; Mar Page Six regular—who is also known Sabado, one of Puffy’s assistants; her boy- as P. Diddy, and whose mother calls friend, a designer in dreadlocks named him Sean John Combs—was expected Emmett Harrell—was on his or her cell in Paris within hours. He needed to be phone or working his or her Motorola on the 8 A.M. flight: it was the first day two-way pager. Sabado was on the of fashion week, and Donatella Versace phone with Combs’s twenty-eight-year- had invited him to sit in the front row old chief aide, Norma Augenblick, who at her couture show. Versace’s shows al- was in Paris, making certain that every- ways attract enormous publicity, usually thing was in place for Combs’s arrival more for the celebrities in the audience at the hotel: champagne in ice buckets; than for the models on the runway. a sufficient supply of Puff Daddy’s fa- The Concorde was Combs’s only hope vorite tequila (1800); plenty of Cuban of making it on time. Jeffrey Tweedy, cigars, either Monte Cristo No. 2 or the vice-president of Combs’s cloth- Cohiba. Then, there were the racks of ing company, Sean John, was in the clothing to unpack and organize. Puff

PHOTOGRAPHS BY HERB RITTS “Fashion is about leaving on your jacket and tie when other people are too hot to bother,” Combs says.

TNY—09/09/02—PAGE 117—133SC.—LIVE OPI ART—R 11294—CRITICAL CUT TO BE WATCHED THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE PRESS RUN—#2 PAGE THE NEW YORKER, SEPTEMBER 9, 2002 117 “You have to dial 001 to call a New York cell phone, even if the person is in France,” he explained. Combs whipped around in his seat. “Yo, Jeff, excuse me,’’ he said, in a low, steady voice.“This is my fourteenth Concorde flight. I’m an in- ternational fucking player. I’ll tell you how to use a phone.’’ Combs had come to Paris for fun, but it was fun with a purpose. He con- siders himself (as do many others) among the most fashionable people in the world, and the business of fashion has become an increasingly central part of his life. Sean John, the clothing com- pany he started three years ago, has emerged as one of the best-selling—and most highly regarded—men’s lines in America. Combs’s runway show in New York last fall met with praise from even the most skeptical fashion professionals. “It was better than anything in Europe,’’ “Lucky girl—she got one before he was hardwired.” Kim Hastreiter, the editor of Paper, the downtown fashion magazine, told me. •• “It was perfectly presented, perfectly original American fashion.” In 2001, Sean John’s sales, which were thirty mil- Daddy does not travel light, and by guard said. “Would it be possible to get lion dollars in 1999, rose to nearly two the time he reached his hotel suite that your autograph?” Puff Daddy nodded, hundred and fifty million. evening he expected everything to be pinned his cell phone between his left This year, along with Ralph Lauren in order. shoulder and his ear, and, still talking, and Marc Jacobs, Combs was nominated At seven-thirty,a man in a two-piece signed the back of an envelope. by the Council of Fashion Designers of white terry-cloth outfit appeared at the “Thank you, sir,’’ the security guard America as the menswear designer of far end of the terminal. He was wear- said. “Have a really nice trip.’’ the year. He introduced his line with ing white tennis shoes, white socks, a Two minutes before takeoff, a stew- the type of T-shirts and baggy jeans that skintight white terry-cloth hat pulled ardess came over and asked, hesitantly,if characterize hip-hop clothing brands low over his forehead, and a large dia- Combs might be willing to turn off his like FUBU and Ecko, ¯ but he quickly mond ring on his right pinkie. He was phone. He apologized, then snapped it graduated to a more sophisticated look, walking slowly, and talking rapidly into shut. Despite his outsized image, Combs with a modern, slightly off-kilter ap- his cell phone. The hostess wheeled is a not a big man, and he often speaks in proach to classic preppy clothes.This around and left when he approached. a whisper. When he addressed the stew- month, he will bring out Blue—a more He looked tired but clearly pleased to see ardess, she had to lean in toward the seat expensive line of denim directed at older his friends. He embraced the various to hear him.“I forget how fast this plane customers. Combs and Tweedy also have members of his crew and then shook travels,’’ he said. “I was trying to explain ambitious plans to enter the lucrative my hand. “I hope you are ready to seri- it to my son before.’’ “Eet eez zee speed and complicated world of women’s wear, ously hang out in Paris,’’ he said. “Be- of a boullet,’’ the woman replied. “It eez and to open two Sean John stores in cause don’t come with us if you can’t stay exactly like we are shot out of zee gun.” New York next year. At a time when out with us. I fully intend to show Paris By the time she had finished describing many designers are struggling just to stay the respect it deserves. We are going to the velocity of the plane, its cruising al- in business, department stores seem eager rock that place to the ground.’’ titude, and what happens when the for anything Sean John can supply.“Puffy His friends clapped once, the way flight breaks the sound barrier, Combs sells second only to Ralph in many of football players do at the end of a hud- was asleep. our stores,’’ Kal Ruttenstein, the long- dle. Then they headed for the plane. It time fashion director of Bloomingdale’s, was seven-forty. As Combs turned to- ithin moments of touching down told me. “Some of that is because of his ward the walkway heading onto the Win Paris, Combs and his crew name, of course. But his clothes are ac- Concorde, a security agent gently put a were back on their phones. Puffy, now tually quite wonderful, and you would hand on his shoulder and asked him to wide awake, seemed to be having trouble be amazed to see how many types of peo- step aside; after all, even Al Gore gets with his, so Tweedy,who was sitting one ple wear them.’’ searched these days. “Mr. Combs,’’ the row behind him, offered some advice: Combs first appeared at the haute-

118 THE NEW YORKER, SEPTEMBER 9, 2002

TNY—09/09/02—PAGE 118—133SC.—LIVE OPI ART A7708 couture shows in Paris five years ago. Kathy.Two of the Miller sisters—Alex- said to me. “He’s a fashion Mini-Me: With his hip-hop credentials and his andra von Furstenberg and Princess half the talent, half the glamour, just as love of the spotlight, not to mention a Marie-Chantal of Greece (along with demanding.”) Air kisses were exchanged past that includes highly public mo- her exiled husband, Crown Prince Pav- in the dressing area. “It blew me away,’’ ments of violence, Combs provided ex- los)—were also in the audience. (They Puff said to Versace, about the collec- actly what the fashion crowd craves: a are daughters of Robert Miller, the duty- tion, which included a patchwork coat frisson of danger without much threat of free billionaire.) These young women made from more than eighty types of it. He represented the ultimate expres- are among the dwindling number of antique fabric; a short jacket with blue sion of nineteen-nineties style: exces- people on earth with the means and the crocodile skin; and a silver ballgown of sive, ironic, and a tiny bit thuggish. He desire to pay twenty thousand dollars for antique brocade with a silver lamé skirt. wore fur and leather and draped himself a dress they might wear once. Versace beamed. She wore her perox- in enough diamonds to rival Princess Combs and Porter, who was dressed ided hair straight and long, her lipstick Caroline of Monaco. Combs made his elegantly in black and wore a diamond was brown, and her skin was a peculiar first visits to the Louvre and to Versailles, necklace that, next to Puffy’s jewels, shade of gray. Puffy embraced her, and which he described to me as “some awe- seemed almost demure, were seated be- then looked at his assistant Norma and inspiring shit.” He was escorted to many side the actress Elizabeth Hurley,whose nodded. It was after ten o’clock and, as of the shows by Anna Wintour, the ed- floor-length green evening gown was he put it a few minutes later, he was itor of Vogue. “Puffy is so wonderfully covered with paisley swirls and glitter- ready to “escalate.” Norma passed the over the top and flamboyant, and, God, ing stars and cut in a remarkably low V. word to the security detail, and within do we need that in our business,’’ Win- Hurley wore a silver pendant and pink minutes the entourage was gone. tour told me. “Fashion goes through se- mules. The front row was a spectacle of verely dull periods and we must have re- preening, with Hurley,George Michael, ombs moves like a candidate for lief. Puff provides it.’’ Rupert Everett, David Furnish (Elton Cthe Presidency. He is always late, Donatella Versace, who knows glitz if John’s lover), the singer Ashanti, and the he is never alone. (Solitude seems to she knows anything, was counting on downtown celebrity actress Chloë Sevi- make him nervous.) Even when he Combs’s presence to add some adrenaline gny posing constantly for the cameras. needs to travel a single city block—say, to her show.The show was scheduled to The most photographed guest, by far, from his Bad Boy offices, in midtown, to begin at eight. At six, Combs was work- was Combs. (People,Us Weekly, and about the MTV studios, in Times Square— ing his way through customs at Charles eight European magazines—many of he is loaded into an S.U.V. and driven. de Gaulle Airport.The drive into the city them named Hello! in a variety of lan- This is not purely vanity; Combs has would take at least an hour; then he would guages—ran pictures of him with Porter, been particularly conscious of security need to change from his travel clothes Hurley, or Donatella Versace. “Wow, ever since his best friend, the rap star into a more fashionable, light-gray,chalk- Puff Daddeee,’’ the photographers Christopher Wallace, who was better striped suit, designed by Donatella. He screeched. “Mr. Diddeee, can we see the known as the Notorious B.I.G., was would have to look, in the phrase coined diamonds?”) gunned down in 1997 in Los Angeles. by Andre Harrell, his former boss at Up- The fashion show itself lasted about Combs was with Wallace the night he town Records, “ghetto fabulous.’’ That fifteen minutes. Puffy spent much of died, and among his many tattoos there meant choosing appropriate accessories: that time taking pictures of other celeb- is one on his right wrist, noting B.I.G.’s a silver tie, smoke-colored sunglasses, rities with a tiny camera. As soon as the date of birth and date of death. (The diamond-and-platinum earrings, a brace- last girl left the runway, he and his crime, generally attributed to an East let or two, a couple of diamond rings the friends, led by three security men, went Coast–West Coast hip-hop rivalry that size of cherry tomatoes, and a watch backstage. Versace was having a party at also took the life of Tupac Shakur, has covered with jewels and worth nearly a the Ritz Club later that evening, and never been solved.) million dollars. Puffy would make an appearance, but he The group was whisked into an un- There is nothing in fashion more de- still needed to pay his respects to his derground passage and out a back door. liciously low than a Versace show. The host. She was surrounded by her staff, There were scores of kids waiting in ambience is one of excess, with security some of whom find Combs an unwel- the street, and when they saw Combs guards stationed along the runway and come addition to their world. (“He is they started screaming, “Pouf Daddeee, models regularly spilling out of their like a mezzo Donatella,’’ one of them Pouf Daddeee!” and quickly surrounded tops. The show, which was held at the him, seeking autographs. Combs signed Palais de Chaillot this year, was delayed. them. (Every time he left a restaurant, Puffy didn’t leave his hotel until eight- hotel, or club in Paris, he was delayed thirty. He was with Kim Porter, the by honeymooners, tourists, and other mother of one of his two children. (She people wanting him to sign an auto- has another child, whom Combs sup- graph or pose with them for pictures. I ports and treats as his own.) By the time never saw him refuse.) Combs wanted they arrived, the bleachers were filled: to go to the hotel for a drink before the Hilton sisters, Nicky and Paris, were heading to Nobu for dinner. After din- there, along with their parents, Rick and ner, he went to Versace’s party, and then

THE NEW YORKER, SEPTEMBER 9, 2002 119

TNY—09/09/02—PAGE 119—133SC.—LIVE SPOT ART—18408—PLS INSPECT AND REPORT ON QUALITY to another club, where he remained until other’s minds. God gave us the chance to tle girl with Diddy’s style.’’ Few cou- dawn. Versace had booked Combs and be together in this wonderful place and ples since Richard Burton and Elizabeth his entourage into the Hyatt Regency we are going to profit from it. I want Taylor have appeared more often in Paris-Madeleine, and he had a suite on to drink mimosas at the Eiffel Tower the gossip columns. While Combs and the seventh floor, with a separate eleva- at dawn. I want us to have fun. But we Lopez were together, it was as if two tor key. It was a nice hotel, well situated have to be together to do it. You will not corporations, AOL and Time Warner, in the center of town. But it was an un- leave me and I will not leave you, and we say, had merged; as much as anything usual choice. In Paris, the beautiful peo- will have the total experience.” (Combs else, they were a marketing phenome- ple stay at the Ritz or the Plaza Athé- never seems still. Even when he’s sit- non. When I asked whether “I Need a née. Many in the fashion crowd prefer ting alone in a corner, he pays attention Girl” was, in fact, about Lopez, Combs the intimacy of the Hotel Côstes. No- to everything going on around him.) laughed ruefully, then shook his head. body stays at the Hyatt. (The second Within minutes, we were off to Nobu, “It’s a fucking song, man. Would you night he was in Paris, Puffy visited Vin where the Hilton girls and many mod- ask a writer if his book is real or fiction? Diesel in his suite at the Plaza Athé- els, designers, fashion editors, and a few It’s just a song.’’ née—a duplex decorated in white, with hangers-on were having dinner. After Gwen Stefani appeared on the edge a large terrace off the bedroom—and several seating configurations proved un- of the dance floor. In the echo chamber he quickly saw what he was missing. tenable, Combs got the waiters to join of the fashion world, Stefani is currently “Norma, we need to stay here,’’ Puffy three tables, and then he ordered ap- among the most adored of celebrities. announced. “Time for a change. Get proximately two of everything on the Puff was thrilled to see her. He grabbed me a room like this.” Norma had antic- menu. When the waiter finished read- her by the leg and gracefully swung her ipated this whim, but the Plaza is always ing back the order, Puffy told him to around so that her head nearly dipped to full during fashion week, and there was bring champagne, wine, and two bottles the floor, then he reached for her foot nothing she could do.) of tequila.“But it has to be 1800 tequila,’’ and slowly caressed it. At that point, he Not that the Hyatt was a hardship: he said.“And bring it to the table. I want turned to me and started to sort of rap:“I the suite had a baby-grand piano and to see the labels.” am fashion because I live fashion,’’ he a large terrace. There were several gar- said. It was so hot in the club that it was ment racks in the living room, with more inner ended around twelve-thirty. difficult to breathe, but Puffy was still than a dozen suits, scores of shirts, DThe Versace party was already wearing his suit, and not one button was leather jackets, what appeared to be under way. By the time we arrived at undone. His tie was so tightly knotted it twenty or so belts, and twice as many the Ritz Club, a long line had formed, seemed to put a strain on his Adam’s ties. There were enough shoes to last a and the bouncers were on edge. Inside, apple. A diamond stud was planted in lifetime, and enough sneakers to outfit Chloë Sevigny sat on a bench, posing each earlobe. A thick rope of a diamond the Knicks. Some of the clothes had for photographers, and Liz Hurley was bracelet—from Jacob, the New York been provided by Versace, but most had playing blackjack with Versace. Despite jeweller to the hip-hop élite—adorned been flown over from New York. “Can their presence, it was an oddly B-list his wrist. He said, “From my manicure you possibly wear all this in four days?’’ I crowd, made up mostly of unknown to my pedicure, from my head to my toe, asked Combs.“All I can do is try,’’ he re- models, publicists, and Versace’s own it’s the swagger that I show the world, it’s plied, with a wink. Sunglasses had been employees. The Hiltons were there, but my face, baby. It’s my walk, my at- arranged in three rows on a high table they are at every party. At one-thirty, titude.’’ He rubbed the wisps of hair on next to a couch in the living room.There Puffy and his friends packed themselves his chin. “Fashion is about leaving on were about ten pairs in each row; each back into their cars and took off in your jacket and tie when other people pair was in its original case, with the search of better music and cooler peo- are too hot to bother.” He was also wear- top flipped up. It looked like the optical ple. They found both. The place, near ing a yellow diamond ring, which looked counter at Bergdorf ’s. We walked onto the Marais, was sweltering and crowded. like a piece of rock candy.“Details, baby. the terrace. Montmartre and at least a Waves of hip-hop music rolled across It’s all about the details. Look at the dozen church steeples stood out against the dance floor. The Nelly song “Hot arm. The ring. The watch. Look at my the pale sky. Despite the hour, it was in Herre” was playing. It was the song canary-yellow diamond. Impeccable. still light. A thin wafer of a moon hung of the summer, and, despite the heat, Admit it, I am impeccable.” He let out above the city. Emmett and Bone were nobody wanted to remain seated. Soon a wolf howl, and dozens of dancers sitting with Tweedy,sipping wine, taking after Combs arrived, the d.j. shouted started to cheer. At this point, Norma, in the view. out the obligatory greeting—“P.Diddy’s who is keenly protective, and who, de- Combs, who often seems uneasy in in the house!”—and then played Puffy’s pending on the hour, is a corporate exec- a crowd unless he is performing, stood No. 1 song “I Need a Girl (Part 1).” utive, an accountant, a fixer, a party plan- self-consciously on the edge of the ter- Most people assume that the song ner, or a high-end concierge, shouted race. “Before we get on our way, I just is about Combs’s relationship with Jen- across the floor to me, “This is all off want to say one thing,” he said. “We are nifer Lopez: “Every time I think about the record, it’s off the record!” Combs in Paris and we are here to learn from your pretty smile, and how we used to waved her away.“I don’t want this off the one another. We are going to philoso- drive the whole city wild, damn I wish record. I’ve got a lot of shit to say about phize and improvise and improve each you would’ve had my child, a pretty lit- fashion. It don’t really matter what you

120 THE NEW YORKER, SEPTEMBER 9, 2002

TNY—09/09/02—PAGE 120—133SC.—#2 PAGE Clothes from the Sean John autumn collection. Combs, center, says,“It’s the swagger that I show the world, it’s my face, baby.”

TNY—09/09/02—PAGE 121—133SC.—LIVE OPI ART—R 11294FNL—CRITICAL CUT TO BE WATCHED THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE PRESS RUN write about me. Because I’ll still be a working three jobs—as a school-bus he liked life like that,’’ she told me. “Of fashion god, no matter what.’’ driver, a teacher at a local day-care center, course, he loves clothes. I do, too. I al- Puff walked to a table where his and an attendant for children with cere- ways made things nice in my house. I’m friends were sipping Cristal and eating bral palsy—while her mother watched a fashionable-type person. My husband strawberries. (“I don’t even drink the the children. (Combs and his mother was a fantastic dresser. It seems to have shit,’’ he told me. “They bring it wher- still speak to or see each other several worn off.” ever I am. It’s a cliché.’’) He plunged his times a week; his sister works for him at Combs attended Howard Univer- arm into a bucket of ice water. Then he Bad Boy; and one of his tattoos is ded- sity—“the black Harvard,” his mother waved it in my face. “Look at that ring,’’ icated to his grandmother, who died in called it. But he was obsessed with music, he shouted. “Look at the way it glistens. 1994.) When Combs was ten, he spent a and was committed to a career as a I am a damn fashionable motherfucker, summer with the Amish in Pennsylvania producer. He begged Andre Harrell, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.” Dutch country, through the Fresh Air who was then the president of Uptown Fund. Not long after that, the family Records and now runs Motown, for a uff Daddy believes that he inher- moved to Mount Vernon, where Sean job as an intern. Harrell didn’t have Pited some of his fashion sense from attended Catholic schools. He gradu- much to lose—interns come free—and his father. “People say we have a similar ated from Mount St. Michael Academy, he was soon amazed by Puffy’s capacity approach to fashion,” he told me one in the Bronx. for work. Combs took the train from day. “They say he was the fliest man Even as a boy,Combs was exception- Washington to New York every week around. But he died when I was three. I ally driven. Although he has been called to work for Harrell; before long, he saw a couple pictures of him, and that the “black Sinatra,’’ his early role models dropped out of Howard, moved into was all.’’ Combs’s father, Melvin, spent were closer to the president of the 4-H Harrell’s house, and became the first many years as a limousine driver, and his club than to the coolest kid in school. (and last) teen-age division head at mother, Janice, told him that his father “He came home one day and told me Uptown.“I wanted to get my hustle on,” had died “in his car.’’ That was true, but he wanted to start a paper route,’’ his Combs says. His decision to leave school Melvin Combs didn’t die in an accident; mother recalled when I went to see her still bothers his mother. “I really was so he was a drug dealer, and one night in at her apartment overlooking the Hud- disappointed about that,’’ Janice told me. 1972 he was shot dead in his car in Cen- son. “That is how he started. He always “A person works day and night just to tral Park. Combs’s mother raised Sean wanted to work and make his money. educate a kid, and to be able to have a and his younger sister, Keisha, alone, We had a Cadillac car and a house, and roof over your head and a school uni- form. He was a fine student, and when he left college it was hard for me.’’ Although newspapers like to run pic- tures of Combs on a jet ski in Saint- Tropez, most of the time if you want to find him you would have better luck call- ing his office at Bad Boy than checking out the club scene. But no hip-hop mu- sician has successfully positioned himself as a workaholic with a Catholic educa- tion who grew up in the suburbs. So Combs found a way to be hipper than anyone as commercial as he is, and to be more commercial than anyone as hip. It has proved to be a remarkably success- ful formula in music and in clothing. Combs made a name for himself as an energetic club kid who danced in a cou- ple of music videos; by the early nineties, when he was in his twenties, he was a cheerleader for the life of excess that characterized the time. It was an insane era that would see Yahoo! become worth more than General Motors. From the start, Combs was criticized as a mediocre and derivative rapper. That assessment has not changed, al- though his 1997 record “No Way Out” sold more than seven million copies and “I had a hat.” won two Grammys. It is as a talent

TNY—09/09/02—PAGE 122—133SC.—LIVE OPI ART A7241_RD—#2 PAGE scout, packager, and creator of deals that he has met with true success. His first act, Jodeci, sold seven million records. Since then, Combs has produced the work of Mary J. Blige, Faith Evans, and many others. More important, though, he discovered Christopher Wallace, a former crack dealer who rapped as the Notorious B.I.G. By 1997, the year B.I.G. was murdered, his albums,“Ready to Die” and “Life After Death,” which drew a chilling, nihilistic portrait of life for an urban black man, had turned him into one of the seminal voices of the decade. Combs’s career has been punctuated by violence. In 1991, he and the rapper Heavy D, among others, promoted an AIDS benefit at City College; too many tickets were sold, there was a stampede, and nine people were crushed to death. “Are you kidding? I’d kill to have your warts.” In 1999, he and two others were arrested for beating a rival record-company exec- •• utive in his offices at Interscope Records (with a chair, a telephone, and a cham- pagne bottle). Although Combs was mained at the top of the charts for ing the image of the star, not about fash- asked only to pay the executive a fine twenty-eight weeks. It became his sig- ion, per se; you can see Russell Sim- and take a one-day anger-management nature song. It also helped inaugurate a mons’s affection for argyle vests, for ex- course, his image suffered badly; street commercial boom in hip-hop that lasted ample, in Phat Farm, or the Wu-Tang toughs didn’t respect him, and his middle- until the end of the nineties. Clan’s love of oversized T-shirts in Wu class fans were appalled. Then, just That boom is over. Last year, only Wear. And, early on, Puffy sent sequins after midnight on December 27, 1999, two of the top twenty-five pop CDs and lots of fur onto the runway. (Puffy Combs was involved in an incident at a were recorded by rappers: Ja Rule and loves fur; people still talk about his Manhattan night club, in which three Nelly. Neither ranked among the top burgundy ostrich trenchcoat with the people were shot. He fled with Jennifer fifteen albums. Hip-hop fashion has, of sheared-mink lining.) Lopez in a Lincoln Navigator, but he course, always been tied to the music If hip-hop music falters in the mar- was arrested and charged with gun pos- market. In the early eighties, kids in ketplace, will its fashion also be in dan- session and attempting to bribe his baggy jeans started listening to Grand- ger? Several people told me that Combs driver into taking the rap for him. After master Flash and spray-painting their was passé.“We don’t listen to his music,’’ seven weeks of testimony, covered by signatures on subway cars. A few years a white Manhattan teen-ager who is a New York’s press as if it were Watergate, later, in reaction to the emerging mar- particular follower of rap told me. “And Combs was acquitted of all charges. riage of music and fashion, Run-DMC nobody I know would buy his clothes.” The verdict was broadcast live on the positioned themselves as anti-glamour One of New York’s best-known fashion networks. authentics (“Calvin Klein’s no friend of editors put it more baldly:“Oh, my God, The lowest point of Combs’s career, mine /don’t want nobody’s name on my Puffy is sooo two years ago.’’ though, came after the death of his friend behind”). Around that time, the cloth- But such criticism misses the point. Biggie. Combs was depressed for months, ing line FUBU—“For Us By Us”—was Combs has never really wanted to be the and his mother told me that she had created, so that minority people could hippest guy in the room; he wants to been worried for his life. When I asked wear clothes designed by minorities. By be the hippest successful guy in the room. Combs whether he felt that he had seen the nineties, though, rappers like the He told me that his fashion and busi- more than his share of violence, he said, Notorious B.I.G. had embraced the cul- ness idols are Ralph Lauren and Martha “Nearly every black man faces an unac- ture of brand names; even their socks Stewart—two self-invented characters ceptable level of violence in this society. bore labels. “I put my hoes in N.Y. onto whose deft re-creations of America, real I’m not different. Money can shield you; DKNY, Miami, D.C., prefer Versace,’’ and imagined, have made their fortunes. it can protect you. But it doesn’t make Biggie rapped on “Hypnotize” in 1997. “Those are the templates,’’ he said. you white.” Eventually, Combs recov- “Every cutie wit a booty want a Coogi.” “When you look at what they have ac- ered. His tribute to Biggie,“I’ll Be Miss- Early hip-hop clothing lines were complished, it’s magnificent.” It is not ing You,” a remake of an eighties hit not much different from vanity license surprising that he wants to leap out of by the Police, won a Grammy, and re- plates; they were mostly about promot- the world of hip-hop, with its fetishiza-

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TNY—09/09/02—PAGE 123—133SC.—LIVE OPI ART A7341—#2 PAGE tion of Gucci and Fendi, and into the world of Ralph Lauren and Martha Stewart. “Here I think Puffy is very in- ORCHID teresting,” Kelefa Sanneh, who has writ- ten extensively about hip-hop and pop Now that you are gone, you are everywhere. culture, told me. “You can see him shift Take this orchid, for instance, away from the aspirational approach of its swollen lip, the scrawny stalk’s one the nineties. He is not a great rapper, or descended testicle even a great producer. But he goes out as wrinkled as rhetoric on the bar-scene stump, and scoops up new beats and talent. In the golden years since clothes, he seems to be doing the same jingling in its purse. How else signal the bee? thing. He is a mogul, and he is moving with the market.” In my swan-clip now languish urgent appeals Ralph Lauren and Martha Stewart from the usual charities are more than brands; they offer vi- lined up to be ignored. But your flags are up: sions of the world. Where Lauren pre- I see the flapping petals, sents an ersatz interpretation of the sub- the whorl of sepals, their grinning come-on. urban dream life, Stewart has turned Always game, again the middle-class hearth and home into I’d head straight for the column’s sweet trap. an industry. Puffy hopes to dignify the urban life and package it for people who Ducking under the puckered anther cap may never have entered a city. He has to glide toward the stiff, managed to market his clothes to kids waxy sense of things, where male and female who are tutored for the E.R.B.s and the hardly matter to one’s heady S.A.T.s. He is becoming to the street urge to pull back the glistening lobes what Ralph Lauren is to Waspiness and and penetrate the heart, Martha Stewart is to the ideal of the I fell for it every time, the sticky bead American homemaker. And Combs’s empire continues to grow as rapidly as laid down on my back as I huddled there ever.“The thing I love about Puff is that with whatever—mimicking he comes back,’’ his assistant Norma told enemy or friend, the molecular musk me. “After B.I.G. died, people thought of each a triggering lure— he would go right down the toilet—then wanted the most of me. Can I leave now, too? he put out a No. 1 album. During the I have death’s dust-seed trial, Jennifer dumped him, they said his on me. I have it from touching you. music career was over, he would be going to prison—and even if he got off he —J. D. McClatchy would be through. Well, guess what? He has a best-selling record, he’s a happy father, his clothing company absolutely hip-hop culture as a forum for sell- clothes at Britches of Georgetown. He rocks. Puffy will always come back. He’s ing clothes. One day not long ago, I sees or talks to Combs three or four like nature.” walked around the Sean John boutique times a day. “I was a little leery at first,’’ at Bloomingdale’s. I saw clothes simple he told me. “I thought, Whoa, what did uring his trial, Combs worked on and sophisticated enough to please Jil I need with a celebrity cat who wanted Dhis collection; most nights after Sander. When you first look at them, to start yet another label? But the more court, he sat with Tweedy and the de- the clothes seem as if they belonged I talked to him the more I realized he sign team and sketched out ideas. He at Brooks Brothers or Paul Stuart. Then was completely able to do this. He is would talk through a notion, and the you notice the lavender and mustard car- totally involved, yet willing to let peo- designers would attempt to translate it digans, the shiny mother-of-pearl but- ple do their jobs.” Sean John is now sold into patterns, which he would evaluate. tons and the bold stitching on the coats. in more than twelve hundred stores.The He told me that he founded Sean John Sean John pants are sharply tailored, company,while not yet competitive with because the clothes he saw bored him. the textures are rich, and the buyers are Tommy Hilfiger or Ralph Lauren, has “I felt there was a total lack of some- often men in their thirties hoping to easily surpassed its competitors in the thing,” he said. “Fashion was dull, dead. look cool. urban fashion market, FUBU, Phat I thought maybe we could bring in Combs hired Jeffrey Tweedy, a for- Farm, and Ecko. ¯ some life.” mer Ralph Lauren executive, as vice- “We design for a hip young guy,” He never saw the clothes he designed president of his company. Tweedy, a Tweedy told me. “Loves clothing, very as solely an extension of his hip-hop dapper black man who grew up in Wash- stylish, and has a bit of disposable in- persona; rather, he regards his place in ington, D.C., got his first job stocking come—not for a teen-ager but for a man

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TNY—09/09/02—PAGE 124—133SC. who aspires to wear Gucci one day and artificially enhanced strippers disrobing midnight, and Puff ’s party was about to Prada one day and to be able to afford on the bar, and the music. (In Paris, some begin. Bijou Phillips, who was making the custom Zegna suits. Now, down the of the women smoked Gauloises instead a film in Luxembourg with Madeleine road we will try to develop a life-style of Marlboro Lights.) Men wear gray, Stowe and had arrived in Paris that day, brand. That’s the goal.’’ and women wear black. They all carry tried to help. “How do you say ‘eight’ in As a fashion figure, Combs has tran- tiny digital cameras and minuscule dual- French?” she asked.“If we could just tell scended hip-hop completely. He has band cell phones. him the number in French, maybe he done more: black fashion has been ripped The party began around midnight, would have it.’’ Combs had also just been off and reinterpreted for many years, but there were many stops to make first. made aware that he had forgotten to and Combs has helped take it back from Puffy’s days in Paris started late—he attend the Anna Wintour party. “How the Tommy Hilfigers of the world. tended to go to bed about 9 A.M. and the fuck could something like that hap- “There is this clear dialectic—it’s sort of sleep till early in the afternoon. If there pen?” he asked Norma, who offered no like jazz,’’ Kim Hastreiter, of Paper, told was time, he would work out—he was excuses. She put her head in her hands, me. “White designers forever would go travelling with a trainer, a stylist, and then ordered roses to be sent to Win- to 125th Street to see what was happen- at least two personal assistants—before tour’s hotel. Wintour has been among ing. That is where they got their inspi- beginning to think about the evening’s Combs’s most vigorous supporters, and ration, their cool.Then the blacks turned plans. (In New York, he sleeps about he was beside himself at the notion that that upside down. They took the icons four hours a night, and makes only occa- he might have offended her. In the mid- of the rich and suburban and blasted sional visits to clubs.) This night, Anna dle of dinner, he decided to go to the bar them. This is when sweatshirts with the Wintour was giving a party to celebrate of the Plaza Athénée, down the street, word ‘Harvard’ printed on them a hun- the publication of a book by Grace Cod- and abruptly got up and left. dred times emerged; the ghetto was mak- dington, Vogue’s longtime creative direc- The bar was crowded with débu- ing fun of the suburbs, and if the sub- tor. Afterward, there was to be a dinner tantes, models, actors, and rock stars, urbs were about Mercedeses then the at Karl Lagerfeld’s eighteenth-century most of them transplanted from Man- kids in the ghetto would wear a necklace mansion. Oddly,though Puffy had been hattan. “I’m with Puffy,’’ Paris Hilton with the word ‘Mercedes’ in block capi- invited, he was a no-show. I met him said to her friend Cornelia Guest. You tals.’’ After the most recent Sean John and his friends around 11 P.M. at a res- could feel the thrill pass between them. runway show, Hastreiter wrote, in Paper, taurant down the street from the Plaza (I had asked Norma if Puffy was, in “He threw bling bling out the window Athénée. Usually chatty and solicitous, fact, friendly with the Hilton sisters or and sent out a low-key, gorgeous ready- he was sulking. Norma had somehow the Miller girls. “Not friendly, exactly,’’ to-wear collection. This stuff could marooned him at a restaurant where she replied. “But there are really only stand up to anything, anywhere in the there was no 1800 tequila. By the time two types of rich people—the ones who world today.’’ I showed up, she was working two cell go out, and the ones who don’t. The The company has moved deliberately phones, trying to repair the damage. She Hiltons go out.”) Suddenly, there was a but with apparent ease in the market- called the Hyatt, but it had none; she brief confrontation at the bar. Naomi place. Some fashion veterans are thrilled struck out at the Ritz, too. It was nearly Campbell had just arrived, and she and by its success and the attention it has brought the industry; others find it hard to believe that a man who doesn’t know how to sew is considered a successful de- signer. But the significance of Sean John is no longer questioned. One day while I was in Paris, I ran into Richard Buck- ley, who is the editor of Vogue Hommes International. “I just got an e-mail from this writer who asked me who I thought mattered in men’s clothes these days,” Buckley told me. “I said the only man who is doing anything important is Puff Daddy. Right now, he is all we got.”

he second night of his stay in Paris, TPuff Daddy threw a bash at Les Bains Douches, the former municipal bath that has been among Paris’s most popular clubs for more than a decade. The party could have been in Saint- Tropez, New York, L.A., or East Hamp- ton: the crowd, the food, the highly paid, “What about accessories?”

TNY—09/09/02—PAGE 125—133SC.—LIVE OPI ART #A7378—#2 PAGE Bijou Phillips were calling each other it down. He was dressed casually, in d.j. dedicated the Sheila E. song “The names. Phillips bumped into Camp- white linen without a jacket or tie. A di- Glamorous Life” to Puff. “This is for bell, and Campbell wheeled around and amond crucifix dangled from his neck. P.Diddy,’’ he said, using the most current screamed,“I could knock you out, Bijou.” Tom Ford was having a drink at the version of his name. (During a particu- The word “bitch” bounced back and bar when we entered. Puff started to larly searching interview after Combs’s forth like a Ping-Pong ball. There was walk over to him, then came back and trial last year, he announced that from some suggestion that Campbell, who is grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me now on he would be referred to not as even more unpleasant than she is allur- along. “You got to come with me for Puff Daddy but as P. Diddy, which is ing, had hit on Phillips’s fiancé, Sean this, dawg,’’ he said. As Combs ap- what Biggie called him. He meant it Lennon, earlier in the summer. Combs, proached, Ford held out his hand, but partly as a joke. The next day, to his as- who has a gift for conciliation that has Puff Daddy got down on his knees and tonishment, the news was on the front served him well as a producer, walked started an “I’m not worthy” wave at page of the Post.) By 4:30 A.M., the party over, put his arm around Phillips, and him. Ford laughed uncomfortably. “You was winding down. Only the core group gently pulled her away. are my god,’’ Combs told him. “I wor- remained, dancing to Chaka Khan and ship you.” some old Prince tunes. At about five, lack cars were lined up for blocks Hundreds of people had packed when it looked as though the evening Baround Les Bains Douches by the into the narrow old club. Puffy and his might be over, Combs turned to me and time Puffy arrived. The party was so crowd had sequestered themselves in a said, “We are going to a strip club, and crowded that even people clutching in- cordoned-off area near the entrance. we are all going together.” As soon as he vitations were having trouble getting in; Everyone could see them, but only the finished speaking and climbed into his the Hiltons (accompanied by their par- chosen could approach. The group con- car, Norma turned to me and mouthed ents), the Miller sisters, Ivana Trump, sisted of Puffy, Kim Porter, the rest of the words,“Totally off the record.”Then Tom Ford, Mick Jagger, Eva Her- Puffy’s visiting friends, Vin Diesel, the we left. zigova, Vin Diesel, and Bijou Phillips Hiltons, and Ivana Trump. Not long After breezing by two bouncers, we were all there. Jagger, sipping on a Hei- after 2 A.M., Puff handed a whistle to descended through a tunnel with video neken, looked rumpled. Combs’s prin- Ivana, and she spent much of the next screens in the floor and walls. Hip-hop cipal action was to issue whistles to most hour blowing it. By that time, the Hilton music played in the background. Puffy of the people in the house and to stand girls were on a tabletop, dancing. So was took a seat next to the catwalk where the in a corner, stomp his feet, and clap along their mother, Kathy. “I feel so bad for girls “work.” He insisted that I sit next to with the writhing dancers. He ordered Paris,’’ Bijou Phillips said as she watched him. “Let’s do an interview,’’ he said. It five bottles of Cristal, four of Veuve Kathy Hilton wriggling.“Can you imag- was 5:15 A.M. and he finally felt relaxed Clicquot, two of Absolut, and two of ine how mortified she is watching her enough to answer questions. Next to us, 1800 tequila, with enough Coke to wash own mother acting like that?” The there was a spectacularly gifted woman at work. She had started off in a latex cat- woman suit but was now wearing only an elaborate mask, a G-string, and a pair of stilettos. “Look at this woman,’’ Puffy said. “Jesus. Do you think she’s French?” (He wanted to tip her, but he rarely car- ries money. He waved for Norma, but she was across the noisy room.) I re- minded him that Norma had decreed that the trip was off the record.“Nothing in my life is off the record,’’ he said. “I wish it was, but it isn’t. Never has been.’’ I asked if he enjoys his celebrity. “Of course,’’ he said. “I hate rich people who complain about how tough it is being rich. They are insane. I pay, like, fifty- per-cent taxes and I am very proud of that. I would happily pay more.’’ I asked him if Sean John was as important to him as music, and if he got pleasure out of the clothes.“It’s different from music. I don’t mix the two. What I do mix is life style. I am making a life style, and it’s part of entertainment. This just seems to be an obvious expression of who I am.’’ “My summer vacation: How I made money in a bear market.” “Does the clothing line need to make

TNY—09/09/02—PAGE 126—133SC.—LIVE OPI ART #A7820 money for you to be satisfied with it?” diplomats. His house looked as if it bitches be heiresses. Blond Something I asked. could have served as a pied-à-terre for von Furstenberg and Hiltons and shit. “Fuck, yes,’’ he said, taken aback by the Sun King. Occupying twenty acres What are we now, a fucking limo ser- the question. “I want people to know or so, the hôtel particulier—as the French vice? They got to be getting their own how serious we are and what we are ca- call such immense city houses—had damn cars.’’ pable of doing. And I want to be known been lavishly restored over the previ- as a businessman who made something ous decade to its pre-Revolutionary ombs had many supporters at the better, made my people happy, and had opulence. A petite woman, dressed in CCouncil of Fashion Designers of some fun.” Chanel, opened the door onto a grand America award ceremonies—the fash- It was past dawn, nearly 6 A.M.“How hallway where about a dozen people ion world’s equivalent of the Oscars— did you feel about Jennifer Lopez leav- stood talking and smoking cigarettes. this year. Anna Wintour told me that ing you the way she did?’’ I asked. Lopez Butlers served champagne. The scene she was rooting for him, and so did the had left him in the midst of the trial looked like a Ralph Lauren ad, down fashion editors of other magazines. The after the night-club shooting, when it to the women in flowing dresses and ceremony was held in the Celeste Bartos seemed as if his musical empire, along chignons, and the sockless men in tuxe- Forum of the New York Public Library. with his self-made persona, were about to dos. Pink buds—mainly freesias and By 7 P.M., limousines had started to come crashing down. “Well, you know, I roses—lined the hall and the main salon. pull up to the covered runway on Fifth wish her the best in her life. I always The only thing missing was a golden Avenue. Penélope Cruz accompanied have,’’ he said. “But . . .” His voice trailed retriever. Ralph Lauren; Lauren Hutton came off. “Look, if she is happy, then I am Lagerfeld was completing a late- next. Puffy was with his mother, Jeff happy for her.’’ One of his friends had night fashion shoot. Models whose Tweedy, and several members of the been listening.“Disloyal bitch,’’ the friend clothes were too cumbersome to permit Sean John design team. He was the last said. “She’s nothing but a disloyal bitch.” them to move unaided were led down a nominee to arrive. He was dressed con- grand marble staircase by walkers, like servatively: a simple diamond earring in he following night, Puffy was in- Thoroughbreds being taken to the gate each ear, the canary-yellow pinky ring, Tvited to a small gathering at Karl at the Kentucky Derby. The ball gowns and a subtly patterned black suit. His Lagerfeld’s mansion. Norma made sure were cut from sheets of silk, lace, and mother was more elaborately attired: she he didn’t forget this party.“Go,’’ she told tulle. Several women wore masks. A wore black stiletto slippers, diamond him. “Just get up and go.” We were hav- chandelier draped in pink silk domi- hoop earrings, and a variety of amulets. ing a late dinner (with Puffy, there is no nated the salon. One of the models, in a Her blond hair dangled over bare shoul- other kind) in the Buddha Bar, around black hat that was five feet wide, required ders. They posed together on the red the corner from the Hotel Crillon, and, two men to guide her, one on each side carpet. “Janice, are you proud of your as Combs and Porter were leaving, he of the hat. A samba band played briskly boy?’’ a television reporter asked. “Yes, I decided to buy her some Buddha Bar while Lagerfeld snapped pictures; every am always proud of Sean,’’ she replied. souvenirs. (In recent months, Combs ten minutes or so, an assistant would By the time they swept into the front and Porter have spent considerable time transfer what he had recorded to a pow- hall, it was almost empty. Puff strolled together. When I asked him about it, erful computer in the next room. Puff through, working his two-way pager and he said, “I don’t really know where it and Kim looked on in amazement. occasionally taking a phone call. Ralph will go.”) He dropped the souvenirs on Lagerfeld seemed pleased to have Puffy Lauren came out to say hello and Calvin the counter and spelled out the name in his house—but wasn’t quite sure what Klein wandered over to tell Janice how “N-O-R-M-A” to the woman behind to do with him. “Let’s take a tour,’’ he lovely she looked. I asked Puffy if he the register. Then he placed an interna- said. And they proceeded to stroll up- was nervous. We were standing beneath tional cell-phone call to Norma—who stairs, where the models were getting blowups of Jackie Kennedy, Oleg Cas- was finishing her dinner about a hun- dressed.“Good evening, girls,’’ Puffy said sini, and Audrey Hepburn. “No,’’ he re- dred feet away—and told her to pick up politely—before snapping some Po- plied. “Why be nervous about what you Porter’s gifts when she was done. Puffy laroids of himself and Porter in the can’t control?’’ was in an expansive mood as his limou- scene. “I hope we are not interrupting.” It wasn’t until after 11 P.M. that Alan sine sped through the nearly empty It isn’t easy to get Puff Daddy to leave Rickman presented the award for men’s streets of Paris. “This city is so fly,’’ he a party, but his friends were bored, and fashion. Puffy stopped sending e-mail said. “Look at the clocks and the win- they weren’t mixing with many of the and making phone calls. After a brief dows and the lights. And those little other guests. Kim grabbed Puffy and video display of each man’s work, Rick- Smart cars. Even the buses are cool. Can dragged him toward the car. The Hil- man announced that the award would go you find a speck of dirt or any garbage tons and the Millers and several of their to Marc Jacobs. Puffy applauded loudly, on the ground? It’s amazing.These peo- friends needed a ride to the next stop— smiled at everyone, and then picked up ple have the food, the clothes, the love. a birthday party at a club called Cantina. his phone.Tweedy sighed.When we got This city is just mad beautiful.” None of the women had a car, so they up to leave, I asked Combs how he felt Lagerfeld’s home is in the Sixth Ar- started to pile in with us, and there just about losing. He shrugged.“Hey,I didn’t rondissement, a neighborhood inhab- wasn’t room.“Wait,” Puffy’s stylist, a no- lose,’’ he said.“I was nominated. I am just ited mostly by rich businessmen and nonsense black woman, yelled. “Them getting started.”

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