A few weeks ago, Alain Ducasse, wizened keeper of all French culinary tradition, met me in a walnut-walled 19th-century Bordeaux apothecary. There he sat, slightly slumped, his hair snowy white, his eyes peering over his glasses beneath wild eyebrows. Beside him was Emmanuelle Perrier, his communications director and longtime translator. I wish we had been in France, but it was Thursday and I had to pick up my kids from school in Red Hook, Brooklyn. The incessant honking of horns was a distant but audible reminder that we were actually in midtown Manhattan. The room—dubbed L’Officine—is on the second floor of Ducasse’s New York bistro, Benoit, housed in the former home of La Côte Basque. At 67, Ducasse is stepping back, maybe one step, maybe a flurry of them. “This year, I made a resolution,” he writes, “marking a shift that is crucial for me and the rest of the group. I want to encourage a generation of talented people in their thirties and place them in the highest positions.”
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Save big on tents, hiking shoes, backpacks, and more during the retailer's biggest sale of the year. |
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For over three decades, the all-American line has been about quality and innovation. I took a trip to the factory to see it for myself. |
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It’s been nearly a year since behind-the-scenes images of Martin Scorsese’s Bleu de Chanel short film starring Timothée Chalamet leaked, and today, at long, long last, the ninety-second campaign finally dropped. And trust me—it was worth the wait. In the ad, Chalamet, clad in an all-leather ensemble, steps into different caricatures and settings that stereotypically define acting: He’s snapped by the paparazzi while leaving his apartment; he’s charming it up on a late-night talk show (an adoring audience member yells, “Timmy, I love you!” and he’s like, “Thanks”); he’s simultaneously watching his new project on a billboard and on a television. |
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It's time to invest in a solid pair of shades. Start here. |
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From sneakers to loafers, these picks exude ease and style. |
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Is all the pollen warping my perception or was April an unbelievably bananas month for movie releases? The biggest new pop entertainment—Luca Guadanigno’s Challengers—is a dizzying, brilliant, sweat-soaked tennis world love triangle. On the indie side, there were multiple phenomenal and subversive new movies from young trans auteurs. Internationally, Bertand Bonello made a three-timeline sci-fi provocation—part Henry James, part incel manifesto, and part DNA purification dystopia—that I’m still struggling to get my head around. And thanks to Lance Oppenheim’s new documentary, Spermworld, I now have intimate knowledge of the black-market sperm donor universe.
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