Hello Paris - Inside Paris Men's Fashion Week

Men’s fashion week is always fun before you meet your exes on the runways.

In between the shows, parties, and your own film screenings sleep becomes an unnecessary pleasure. Take a look inside, we don’t care about cool, we only care about real.

“Let’s leave the party for some pizza?”

- some model screaming in my ear during the party that any hype freaks will die for. 2k hoodies don’t make sense if you ain’t happy. They play Frank Ocean’s Nikes in the club to make you feel something, to make you feel real. My first film screens in David Lynch theater, what else can I ask for?

Some Ware somewhere at Château D’Eau, surprise from LA better never existed, I bounce before designers even appear. Club75 event is just a bunch of your favorite designers and artists drinking beer on the street. Off to see next Heron Preston collection, but the best party is always after the literal party. Stylists get lost in straps, photographers only care about Bella Hadid, nodels are hot in layers of hoodies - but you can’t hug Heron, he makes you fall in love with every city worker looking swaggy. 

Waking up in places you never been, time traveling, getting trippy with Harlem rappers. I let him touch my Raf only because he sings “Please don’t...”. Straight from walking Vlone show to bringing me flowers, straight from doing Pigalle show to taking me to the park, straight from showing your collection to teaching me how to mix on Serato. Real over hype, living over pretending.

Who thought dancing to Nirvana in hip-hop party is that fun?