You worked as a journalist for many years before publishing your first novel, Noto. Why did you only turn to literature at that point?

Literature was always there. I just didn’t see it. Maybe it scared me.

Did your work as a journalist make literary writing easier, or did you first have to unlearn certain journalistic reflexes?

A good rule in journalism is: show, don’t tell. But in fact, I had to unlearn the whole explaining, analysing, contextualising, commenting thing. At least the kind of literature I try to write doesn’t proclaim pamphlets, but tells stories.

Your first novel is about love, grief and loss. In die Sonne fliegen now takes us right into the world of fashion. What appealed to you about this change?

In die Sonne fliegen is about grief, love and loss. But it is also about private jets, photo shoots and parties on oligarchs’ yachts. What appealed to me was the glamour on the surface – and everything that was simmering and starting to crack underneath.

The novel begins with an unusual image: Felix Kellergeist works as an Easter Bunny for a fashion designer and shortly afterwards becomes a sought-after model. What was the first idea or scene that this story grew out of?

I found this image so endearing and surreal: a dream boy dressed up as an Easter Bunny and a crazy fashion designer who hires him – who wouldn’t want to read on?

Felix is discovered before he has decided for himself who he actually wants to be. Is the novel also a story about how other people construct an identity for us?

Felix is quick-witted  and doesn’t leave control to others. His literary role model, Felix Krull, also made the transition from hotel page to con man in the blink of an eye.

What interests you about people to whom success seems to come effortlessly, and who suddenly become part of a world they previously had no access to?

For one, I’m profoundly jealous of people who make it all look effortless. At the same time, I’m fascinated by what new worlds, circumstances and people do to them. Even in my own novel. I knew from the beginning where the story would end, but I didn’t know how the protagonists would get there.

In fashion, people are constantly being looked at and judged, their appearance turned into an image. What happens to Felix once his looks become his most valuable asset?

Felix had been used to being, as the novel puts it, the most attractive person in the room from childhood onwards. But while in his youth he simply accepted and enjoyed it (girls, boys, parties, etc.), he increasingly begins to use his charms strategically.

The title In die Sonne fliegen suggests ascent, but also carries the danger of burning up. Was this ambivalence central to the novel from the beginning?

Yes, of course. Without a fall, the ascent isn’t worth telling. Otherwise the novel would be a never-ending escalator.

Felix, Merc, Genie, Kelly and Fox form the “Glam-Gang”. What connects them beyond parties, success and their shared status?

What connects them is something they first have to figure out. Beauty, intelligence, hunger and an over-alert sense of reality? At first, it’s simply the feeling that together they can conquer the fashion world. They quickly realize what separates them, too. In the end, it’s about friendship.

Are genuine friendships even possible in a world shaped by competition, attention and hierarchies?

They are possible, but they require a sharp eye, a good heart and a lot of work.

You have known the fashion industry from a close perspective for decades. Why did you want to write a novel about this world now?

I wanted to write a novel about a young man who enchants the world and drives it to despair. And the fashion world, with its beautiful and dark sides, seemed to me a suitable habitat for this kind of person. Besides, we live in a world where so many people present themselves on social media, optimize themselves and yearn for recognition. Basically we are all Felix.

How much reality is in the book, without individual characters being identifiable as specific people?

They’ll have to figure that out for yourself. Reality is lurking everywhere, although sometimes disguised or distorted. The visit to the Capitoline Museums, to see the Dying Gaul, really happened. So did the homeless man with his bare backside and a robe pulled over his head.

Were there experiences from your own career that you could only tell through fiction?

Everything is very personal. This novel, too.

From the outside, the fashion world is often described either as a glamorous fantasy or as a superficial, exploitative system. What gets lost in both portrayals?

Wonderful, highly talented, sensitive people work in fashion. Or, as a fashion designer in my novel says: “Fashion requires a particular openness. It attracts the vulnerable.”

The fashion industry presents itself as more diverse, conscious and political today. How much has actually changed in its power structures?

Much less has changed than we were promised. And much of it has been rolled back again. Or how many plus-size models have you seen on the important runways lately? Instead, robots are dancing at Vogue World in Milan, and everyone is utterly ashamed of themselves, because the current discourse around the power of machines is happening somewhere completely different.

You tell the story of this world with humor and affection, but also with a great deal of skepticism. Is the book more of a declaration of love, a reckoning, or perhaps both?

I can’t write a book without anger and love.

Looking back on your own early years in the magazine and fashion world: do you recognize yourself more in Felix, or in the people who observe and steer his rise?

I’m not a director, I’m a chronicler. But of course I always wished I had Felix’s almost perfect ears and foal-like legs. In the end, I’m probably Fox, the trans woman with good intentions.

What has the fashion world taught you about people that you might never have understood outside the industry?

That flamboyance requires a particular kind of toughness. But honestly, I already learned that when I was working in nightlife.

Has writing the novel changed the way you look at your own past or at success?

Writing my novels has fundamentally changed my life. But I don’t know exactly how yet.

What do you want to tell next after In die Sonne fliegen? Is there already a new story occupying your mind?

I’m working on a pirate novel. And at some point, the great fantasy epic will come. And in between, the autofictional book Verlorene Männer about drugs, sex and torn PVC trousers by Jean Collona.

And what does success mean to you today, after experiencing and observing it from so many different perspectives?

Success is the hare the greyhounds are chasing. Of course, it’s fake.