BORIS BECKER Not really. In the morning I need peace. No noise, no nasty phone call. But a hot shower, an espresso, and half an hour to myself

BB It depends on what stage in your career you are. At the beginning, it’s actually not that dramatic. You have to find your limits and cross them. That can hurt on the next day. When you are 25 years old, you can deal with it; after 40, my body changed and the real trouble started: knees, ankles, hips, etc. A simple massage won’t do if you are at that point. Unfortunately, that’s the price you pay.

BB You are so flushed with adrenaline and endorphins that you don’t even notice. And you need a good technique. You have to know how to fall – and to quickly get up to play the next ball.

BB You have to score, no matter what it looks like. You can’t think of your audience when you are fighting on the court.

BB No way. You have to reach the ball and win the game. If you have a hand break, you are doing the wrong job.

BB He has to understand the mind of the athlete. That requires experience, sensibility, maybe a certain age. Every player is different, feels differently,
plays differently. You have to give it time. Only under pressure do you see the strong and the weak points of a player.

BB It is not about you anymore, and that is a challenge. After my active career, I took some time to mature to be able to take care of other players.

BB No. That’s who I am. I can’t change that and I would not want to. And my player expects me to be fully committed. A lot of athletes give up too
early and don’t finish the game wholeheartedly when they are facing adversities. I’ve always tried to fight until the very end because you never know – when your opponent is serving for match, he might get nervous. I have experienced that. A match is not over until the referee says: “Game, set and
match – Becker.” Hopefully.

BB I usually don’t watch my old matches, unless a player wants to see how I used to play. I live in the now and think about the future, but don’t forget about my past.

BB None, really. But there are a few players with similar attitudes and mentality. For example, Jannik Sinner, not only because of the red hair, but
also his coolness under pressure. The wildness and unpredictability of Holger Rune. The marathon-man mentality of Sasha Zverev.

BB Oh, yes. It’s still the love of my professional life, but I’m happy I don’t have to run so much anymore.

seems to be more physical, focus is more on the groundstrokes, baseline game, and not so much on the serve-volley. Players seem to be spending
more time in the gym than on the tennis court to get in shape. I don’t know if match strategy and game plan is still as important. In general, I don’t
like to compare generations because we played with different/heavier rackets and quicker balls, and certainly our tennis shoes weren’t as good as
those today. Let me ask you a question: If they all would have played with the same materials, what would Laver, Borg, Connors, McEnroe, Wilander,
Edberg, Becker, Sampras and Agassi do against Sinner, Alcaraz and Zverev? Nobody will ever know.

BB I am surprised that so many players show their private and professional life online. It feels like they have to tell the world constantly what they are eating and how they practice. There are few examples of players who are more careful with their use of social media. For me, the best example is Sinner. You just don’t know what he is doing when he is not on the tennis court.

BB I didn’t really have a choice since Germany had completely embraced me to the point of suffocation. The first couple of years were very enjoyable;
I was actually flattered by the love of the country. Eventually, it became too much and I’m still paying the consequences today. The 17-year-old
Wunderkind Boris is very different to the 57-year-old Mr. Becker.

BB Absolutely. It’s about the inner light – sometimes it shines and other times it doesn’t. I believe a lot in creating your own energy when necessary.
By now, I have the ability to turn on my light if I want to, and turn it off when I have to.

BB I had wonderful and instrumental people in my life that taught me the right from wrong. I have to start with my parents for my personal
growth and Ion Tiriac for my professional one. But there were many people in the last 40 years who had an impact on my life, some were positive,
others were negative.
I certainly learned a lot from my kids and becoming a father.

BB Patience. If you think you know it all, become a parent. You learn about unconditional love, trying to become a good example, and it never
stops…being a parent.

BB It is difficult, but I believe in the way I was brought up. Go out there in the thing called life and make your own experiences. You very quickly find out what is good for you and what is not. You can always come home and ask questions, but the quicker you learn it on your own, the
better it is for you.

BB Never. My kids might see that differently, though.

BB I had my share. On and off the court. Professionally, losing in a Grand Slam final hurts tremendously, and on a personal level, a divorce is a
defeat, but for all parties involved.

BB I learned more about myself through defeat than victory. Losing always made me reflect about my flaws and mistakes. They teach you more
than victories.

BB It gave me time to think and reflect on why I have to spend the night in a cell.

BB That’s a problem all athletes share. Suddenly, you are old at age 35. You have to find something as fulfilling and challenging. But a match ball on the center court in Wimbledon – I won’t find anything like that. Though I was more emotional on the days my children were born. The first steps, the first words, first time they walk on their own, etc. That makes you nervous as a father. You might notice I enjoy talking about
them…

BB There is no definitive answer to that. But I am happy I fell, because it means that I am still alive. Victory is a one-way street. In my case, people know my mistakes. My setbacks have improved me. Only when you can endure pain do you gain strength. If people say life goes by so quickly, I full-heartedly disagree: My life has been quite full so far. What I went through would be enough for seven lives.

BB I find peace at Church and I actually pray a lot. I speak to God in my prayers and ask him for advice. I need my one hour of silence every
day – after all, I was an altar boy in church as a kid in Leimen.

BB Both are strong emotions. But love will always win. Which is why I don’t hold grudges. I am a loving person. Even if some people did me
wrong.

BB I believe my DNA is always the same, but my personality has changed. I would like to think that it has matured, because I’m still learning
about being Boris Becker. I am shedding many layers to get to my core.

BB We wouldn’t be having this conversation today. I like to think that I can function as a team player. But I need direction and purpose. I need
to know my role. I cannot be a bystander or a blind follower. If I know I play in the defense on the soccer team – trust me, nobody will be able
to pass by. My favorite midfielder was the Italian player Gennaro Gattuso. I would be like him: unsurmountable.

BB I hate losing and I cannot stand mediocrity.

BB It’s not so important for me anymore whether the public or the media understands me or my point of view. I do get surprised when people
who apparently know me for 25 years tell me that I have changed or that I am very different to what they thought I was. I just smile.

BB It seems to be getting colder and a lot more aggressive than before. Unfortunately, there is no easy future ahead of us. I do talk with my
children about that a lot.

BB In Milan with my wife. To get back to your first question: I don’t wake up with a song, but with an Italian state of mind. I might be living now
where I have always belonged.

Well, I think for the first time ever, I’m very interested to see the full expression of all the designers, just know-ing that it will be the first time we see a lot of Black and Brown designers featured on the red carpet. It’ll be a really interesting thing to see.

I’d say, above all, living in a smaller community with simpler values and not a lot of complexities to life. I think I was very inspired by the basic elements of human nature. I was always interested in the aesthetics that people would create and nurture to identify themselves with particular groups or subcultures. I’ve always found this to be fascinating. Also, I loved the way we would take care of our clothes and honor the value of what we owned. Even though people didn’t have much, they took very good care of what they had and expressed their self-identity in a strong and beautiful way. I always found that quite intriguing. As I got older and moved to San Francis-co from a very small town in California, I really embraced the nightlife and the thriving club scene.

Fashion has such a powerful and intimate way of touching people, and it can reach people in so many facets of their lives. I really see it as a way to communicate ideas and ideologies.
I feel there’s an opportunity to communicate the concept of love and being good to one another. I believe it can be done in a way that is not corny but still cool, chic and glamorous. Fashion reminds us of our own value and the value of those around us, emphasizing how important it is to embrace and support one another as humans. I think every brand and every designer has a message in how they pursue their storytelling. The idea that we want to make clothes and sell them because it makes us feel more valuable or more exclusive than others—
I believe that concept is outdated. That is one of the reasons fashion has become incredibly boring. There’s very little to be excited about. Among the fashion elite, there’s a shifting of designers in the top houses, but it’s the same names and the same types of people, and I feel that beyond those few fashion elites attending the shows, there is not much interest. Nobody really cares about that. So it’s almost as if the fashion industry is playing for its own demise.

I think we’re living in a time with no room to be timid about our beliefs. The younger generations understand that if you don’t have a strong point of view, you are simply going to disappear into the background. Unfortu-nately, I think we see many larger companies are afraid to take risks and stand up for human rights. They fear the actions we see from leadership around the world. I think those are the companies that tend to dissolve in-to the background, no matter how big they are. Right now, I believe that all of us working in fashion not only have the ability to create significant change, it’s necessary that we do so, because fashion is always evolving and needs to be exciting and revolutionary to have substance. I believe this is the moment to be revolutionary in speaking about our protection as humans.

I believe we are on our way; I see my team and my brand growing. I don’t see ourselves as having finished our work. I feel like we’re just getting started, and I’m grateful that the messaging we incorporate into our work is embraced. When I started the brand in 2015, my ambition was to stay true to the idea that everything we did would uplift people and speak against some of the injustices happening—especially in the United States at the time. Many discouraged me from taking that approach, fearing it would lead to losing customers and isolating people. But even in that year, I was excited to realize that people do want truth, understanding, and emotional communication. They don’t want to see brands pretend that nothing is going on.

I can still have a strong business while doing what I’m skilled at, which is design. I can manufacture beautiful clothes, create amazing looks, and make people look cool while embracing the art of it all. It just means that I believe we can do it with more heart. There are other great designers out there doing things with their art that aren’t addressing the social climate, and that’s fine. I’m not begrudging anyone for not doing that, but I do think there’s an opportunity, and I like to take advantage of it.

I love to include in my runways and presentations those who have not been included for so many years through-out fashion history. I know it’s refreshing for Black and Brown people to see themselves represented, but it’s also refreshing for everyone, as it reminds us that we are all in this together. Celebrating people who are often overlooked in film and fashion, in the glossy pages of magazines, excites all of us.

I love to embrace masculinity and femininity, religion and Catholicism, and so many things that are labeled tox-ic in our society. I really enjoy giving them new meaning and reinterpretation. I love having all the people I work with, as you saw in the photoshoot we did; they display a level of masculinity and femininity that is fluid across all characters. I celebrate masculinity as being sensitive, strong, loving, assuring, and openminded. This is some-thing to be celebrated because it doesn’t isolate people; it lets us know that everyone is welcome, even the masculine.

I do reflect on that because even with my brand’s beliefs, I need to share an evolution of ideas because it is fashion, and people want to be stimulated and excited by what they see. The topics I delve into change over time, but I see my work as eternal. I see the brand as eternal because it speaks of love, and love is eternal. It has a strong foundation based on our beliefs, coupled with our ideas of great craftsmanship and attention to detail. I’m also blessed to have such talented people on my team who are deeply dedicated not only to the phi-losophy of the brand, but also to the art of fashion, craftsmanship and fine tailoring.

I see tailoring as more relaxed, meant for all-day wear, and very gender fluid. I love a woman in a suit; that has always been one of my favorite things. I also love a man in a suit. There’s a beauty that happens when we wear suits. Personally, I love what tailoring does to a person’s identity; it’s like throwing on a jacket that ties it all to-gether. I appreciate how tailoring adds dignity to any look. While I love sportswear, activewear and jeans, and recognize the influence of street culture and athletics on contemporary dressing, I believe we need tailoring to remind us not to be too sloppy.

Yes, I love to make people feel strong and empowered when they wear my clothes. I love seeing people put on outfits and feel excited when they see themselves in the mirror. Tailoring embodies that; great leather does, too.

It was quite a battle for me to leave my small town and emerge into a world so far removed from me. I faced the challenge of being accepted by the community I left while moving into a new world that was very foreign to me. I felt like quite a foreigner in the fashion world as well.

I believed—and still believe—that I have to be great at what I do in order to be okay.

Oh, well, one is that my zodiac sign is Cancer, so I love being at home and enjoy a very simple, calm life. The other is that I am blessed with an incredible husband who is also my business partner. He is my strength and backbone—my other half—and together we live a very simple life with my dog. These are the things that keep me grounded.

Oh, I don’t think I’ll ever stop working, but I do want to do a major motion picture.

It would be a drama and a romance—a combination of Wong Kar-wai, Francis Ford Coppola and Fellini.

It would be called “Hungry.” [long pause, then laughs]

My last supper, oh my goodness! It would have Jesus Christ, Bad Bunny, Sade, my husband—oh gosh, I need 12 people for the last supper, right? Kendrick Lamar, Madonna. Well, I have a lot of friends, so they would all have to be there. Stanley Kubrick, young Sinead O’Connor, the designer Willi Smith, Dolores Huerta, Malcolm X, and Martin Luther King.

One of the very first videos we filmed as a group was in an elevator. It was spontaneous– someone pulled out their phone. The lighting was a cool mix of blue and white, there was a mirror, and it just worked. That video went viral – 15 million views overnight. A few weeks later, we were in the same situation: didn’t know what to film, the parking lot lighting was bad… so we went back to the elevator. Again, the video went viral. People in the comments started calling us “The Elevator Boys,” saying things like, “These are the boys from the elevator!” When we moved in together and got more serious, we decided to stick with the name people already gave us.
Ironically, less than 1% of our content is actually filmed in elevators now. But the elevator became a signature move – something we can always come back to. Because of that, we’ve collaborated with big names like the Jonas Brothers and many others. In a way, we gave people something they connected with, and it opened doors we never imagined.

With music! But it has to be good music.

The whole experience has been intense, but also incredibly beautiful. For years, we lived together – six of us, plus a cameraman who was around 24/7. That alone is a lot. When you live, travel, work together, and even start a company like we did three years ago, things are bound to get intense. But honestly, it feels more like a brotherhood. It’s like being siblings – little things like, “Who left the dishes out again?” come up, but five minutes later someone’s like, “Wanna play FIFA?” and everything’s back to normal. If one person is getting on your nerves, you just hang with someone else. It all evens out.
What’s really special is how we empower each other. In the beginning, everything was new – TikTok, the sudden attention, five guys thrown into the spotlight. Of course, there was some negativity, but we always had each other’s backs. It helped knowing we were all going through it together. We talked, supported and pushed one another when needed. I grew up an only child, so this was the first time I truly experienced something like this. That’s why we say it’s not just a team – it’s a family. We’ve all put in the hours, and now we’re starting to see the results. We just wrapped a movie project in Malta, something we’ve worked on for two years. From being just a group of friends in Frankfurt to performing in front of 80,000 people and filming a movie for Amazon Prime – it honestly feels like a dream we’re living together.

Tim usually takes on the role of the peacemaker, but he also naturally takes the lead. He’s good at negotiating and finding middle ground. I have strong opinions – if I didn’t believe in them, they wouldn’t be strong. But we really talk things through. It’s not a clash of cultures exactly, but maybe something close to it. We haven’t buried this “cast culture” – we work through it by discussing everything until we all feel aligned. That’s our strength. No one is left out. Everyone shares their view, and when we reach a consensus, we know it’s the right call. The variety of perspectives is what gives us confidence in our decisions.

Founding our company was a key step. Now, whenever one of us gets a job or partnership, it goes through our company, and that success becomes a shared win. One opportunity can open doors for everyone. Our way of discussing things is also really solid. Sometimes we’ll spend hours on a single topic, debating late into the night just to find a solution that feels right for everyone. But once we reach that point, it’s powerful. Like when we choose a song to release – everyone has different taste, but when we finally agree, we’re all confident in it. It’s no longer a personal preference, but a collective choice we all believe in. That’s what makes it feel right.

I think it’s still fun. We’re lucky to do what we do, but we’ve also worked hard for it – long days, late nights. If you start something out of joy, it helps you enjoy the entire journey. Because if you begin something that doesn’t bring you happiness, and it turns into work, what’s the point? You can only truly succeed in something you enjoy. Of course, it becomes more structured over time, but if the core of your work is still fun, that’s a gift. I still have my own joys outside of work, like playing soccer. I never did it professionally, so it still feels like something just for me.

Sometimes it’s good not to be too naive in this industry. At the start, everything felt light and carefree – we didn’t take it too seriously. But as you grow, you start thinking more strategically, planning, to avoid mistakes. You start to realize people are watching, especially when you’re out partying like any other twenty-something. Suddenly, you’re considering what a brand might think, or how an industry person might judge you. It can make you overthink. But as long as something feels right to you and is authentic, that’s what really counts. Being real is more important than trying to please everyone.

I grew up in a small town called Stammheim, Florstadt. There wasn’t even a supermarket or gas station. It was quiet and very traditional. But even back then, I felt I wasn’t made for that life. Somehow, I made it out of that bubble. Before I turned 18, I’d only flown twice. Now, I probably fly twice a month. I’ve changed a lot and I’m so grateful. I’ve met incredible people, experienced different cultures, and worked with amazing creatives around the world. It still feels surreal. As a kid, I used to dream while watching TV – and now I’m living those dreams.
In the beginning, three of us shared one room. Now we all have our own apartments, but still see each other every day. Life is good. And even though things have changed, I love going back to my village. It helps me stay grounded and remember how far I’ve come. When you’re in the middle of it all, day to day, you can forget how wild your life really is. High-adrenaline moments become the norm, and it takes something big to really feel the highs.
Going back home feels like a detox. It slows everything down and makes me appreciate the little things again. It’s humbling. Sometimes it’s shocking to see how people are still living exactly the same lives. But visiting reminds me how lucky I am. It’s a full circle—you live it, you step back, and when you return, you feel it all over again. That’s what brings me real joy.

I feel like they’re mostly aligned, but within the group, everyone naturally takes on a certain role. For me, that role evolved over time. My account grew quickly, which led to opportunities with bigger brands and more experience. Because of that, I often find myself pushing the others, which can be exhausting. I sometimes end up playing the “bad cop,” constantly driving things forward. But I actually enjoy that role because I care about our success as a group.
On a personal level, if I weren’t constantly involved in this dynamic, I think I’d be more relaxed. When it’s just about me, I might procrastinate a little more or go to the gym instead of working late. But when it comes to group projects or collaborations, I become very focused – more of a perfectionist. I believe a team is only as strong as its weakest link, so I try to help everyone move forward together. That group mindset brings out a more driven side of me. Still, I sometimes wish I could just chill out, play a good game of FIFA, and take it easy.

It’s a struggle sometimes. But I try to stay transparent. If we’re out here pretending everything is perfect all the time, that would be a huge lie. I think it’s really important to show our human side – to share the moments that aren’t easy. That’s what helps people truly connect with you.
Sure, perfection can offer a kind of escape for some, but if that’s all they see, it can hurt their own self-worth. So I try to share the uncomfortable stuff, too, even when it’s hard. Just saying it out loud helps. I’m lucky to have such a supportive and generous community. When you open up and show vulnerability, people usually respond with kindness, which makes it easier to keep going. Sharing those real moments has real value.

It can be tough, because you do start adapting. But over time, especially through that constant mirror of public reaction, I’ve grown a lot. I’ve become more openminded — about people, about diversity, and about how I see things like gender and sexuality. If I had stayed in my village, I probably wouldn’t have had that growth. It’s a place with very traditional mindsets, and that can be limiting.
For example, at 16 or 18, I never would’ve considered browsing the women’s section while shopping. But now, I’m like, “Why not?” Oversized suits? Amazing. And that’s what the public image thing can teach you – not just to reflect, but to rethink your habits and mindset. Of course, it becomes dangerous if you start pretending to be someone you’re not. But if you stay honest and open, it can actually help you grow into a better version of yourself.

It’s definitely not easy. I was single for about four years while we were constantly working. Even when I had feelings for someone, I couldn’t really make space for a relationship. I just didn’t have the energy to give them what they deserved, and that made me hesitant to let love in.
Even now, it’s challenging. When we were at a songwriting camp in Sweden, after long studio days, I’d be totally drained, and she’d still be full of energy, wanting to go out or do something. I felt guilty that I couldn’t always meet her where she was. She’s incredibly generous with me, and I try to be present, to give what I can.
As for trust – yes, that gets more complicated the more visible you become. More people show up, and not all of them have good intentions. But over time, you develop a radar. You learn who’s there for you and who’s there for what you have. That awareness has become really important to me.
That’s why I keep my inner circle tight – my five closest friends. We’ve lived together for years, vacation together, celebrate together. I never have to ask myself, “Can I trust them?” – because I already do. They keep me grounded, they call me out if I lose perspective, and they help me stay real.

Actually, it was the elevator one – all in a single take. Normally, we plan everything: outfits, lighting, rehearsing dances until they’re perfect. But that day, we were just standing there, pulled out our phones, and filmed one elevator ride — no plan. I never expected it to go viral. From day one, our mindset has been consistency. We post three times a day, every day. It’s like playing the lottery: the more tickets you have, the better your chances. We just kept showing up until one video finally hit – and that was it. After that, everything started feeling real. We’ve been waiting for that kind of moment, and even now, we’re not slowing down.

People sometimes forget I had a totally normal life before all this. I come from a small village where I lived alone with my mom. It wasn’t glamorous — she got by renting out two small flats she’d bought years ago. I worked all kinds of jobs growing up: roofing, construction, bartending, delivering burgers. I studied economics, worked at a gym – just regular things most people can relate to. My life didn’t change overnight; it evolved slowly. I share this not to impress anyone, but to show what’s possible. If people see where I started, maybe they’ll believe in their own dreams a little more. Extraordinary things can grow from very ordinary beginnings.

Yes, it really bothers me. Being underestimated is one of the worst feelings. People see a 15-second clip and assume they know everything about you. Some say, “It’s just luck,” or, “It looks easy.” But I wasn’t handed followers or brand deals – I built this from the ground up. Most people don’t even take the first step because they’re afraid of being judged, and that’s where they lose.
I remember when I started posting TikToks, guys at my local football club tackled me harder just to mock me. But that said more about their mindset than mine. If you know where you want to go, nothing should stop you. Like Schwarzenegger said, you can have the best ship and the best captain, but without a clear destination, you’ll end up nowhere. Once your goal is clear, you’ll find the way – even if you make a few wrong turns.
Social media makes it easy to create false narratives. That’s the danger of parasocial relationships: people think they know you, but they don’t. I understand – they only see a fragment. I just wish more people thought deeper. Everyone starts somewhere, and no one gets here overnight. If you feel jealous or unsure, study the journey, not just the highlight reel – and use it to fuel your own.

I met someone in Tampa who told me they lost 10 or 15 kilos because my content motivated them. That really touched me. Knowing something I created helped someone feel better or more confident – that means everything. We started out just wanting to make people smile. That was already enough. But realizing the impact it can have, especially during tough times like the pandemic, made it feel even more meaningful. Meeting people in real life who say you’ve made a difference – that’s the most rewarding part of all this.

Before social media, I started in modeling but took a break. Coming back to it now feels full-circle — and more personal. I walked for Versace last year, shot a cover, and it’s exciting to express myself through fashion again. To me, fashion is storytelling. It shows who you are, or want to be, at a glance.
Designers like Conner Ives really get that. His “Protect the Dolls” tee wasn’t just trendy — it had a message. He created it last-minute and donated the profits to charity. That honesty moved me more than any luxury brand. Fashion feels alive when it’s about more than clothes — like Willy Chavarria’s show: music, culture, emotion, all in sync. Or Jonathan Anderson at Loewe — totally original. Saint Laurent? I haven’t worked with them yet. But I will. Manifesting it.

It’s not honest to say we don’t compare ourselves. That’s part of this space. You’re constantly measuring your own success — views, likes, engagement. You set the bar, then battle to meet it. And when numbers dip — maybe it’s summer, maybe life gets in the way — you start feeling like you’re falling behind.
There’s pressure to stay online all the time, like a TV channel that can’t go dark. Go silent too long, and you worry people will move on. That mental weight can be intense. That’s why it’s so important to have people around who remind you it doesn’t have to be perfect. Sometimes a friend says, “Just post something simple,” and that’s all it takes.
At the end of the day, you need to recharge. No one runs on empty forever. Like an electric car, you’ve got to stop and recharge, or you’ll burn out before you reach where you’re going.

Yes — once, I did speak out. A German newspaper misrepresented our group after spending a few days with us. They even joined us skydiving — which wasn’t planned and made us nervous. We were swearing out of fear, and they wrote it up like we were rude and scared boys. They even said our apartment smelled like leftover döner. It felt disrespectful, especially after we’d welcomed them in.
So I addressed it. Not out of anger, but because I felt responsible — not just for myself, but for all of us. That moment pushed me to work with PayDay, an organization fighting online hate and discrimination. We’ve raised money together and built a more supportive community. Now, when hate shows up, others often shut it down before I even see it. That’s powerful.
Social media is still new. We’re the first generation raised with it. We’re still learning how to act with empathy online — the same way we (hopefully) do in real life. Just like you’d step in if someone was harassed on the street, we have to learn it’s our job to step in digitally, too. As creators, we help shape that culture.

Yes, definitely. People love seeing me with other creators, and those videos often go viral because of that. But I only make content with people I actually vibe with. Not to fit an idea. If viewers create stories in their heads, that’s fine — as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone.
But when people cross a line and start insulting others just because of who’s in a video, that’s not okay. Keep the fantasy if you want, but don’t let it turn into something harmful.

Be yourself in everything you post. If you pretend to be someone else and get criticized, it’ll hurt more — because you know it wasn’t really you. But if you stay true to who you are, you’ll be able to stand behind your work, no matter what people say.
Also, not everyone needs to be on social media. It’s not the only path to happiness. I know people who live quietly and are genuinely content. For me, happiness comes from creating — whether it’s modeling, videos, music, or film. If it makes people feel something — smile, laugh, reflect — that’s where my passion lies.
Authenticity is everything. When you’re honest and transparent, you build a kind of emotional armor. Look at someone like Alex Consani — she plays by her own rules, both online and off. And people love her for it.

Olivier Zahm: Absolutely. Doing a magazine was always my main focus. When I was younger, I wanted to be either a photographer, filmmaker, or writer. In the end, making a magazine allowed me to do all of these things at once, without being confined to just one. I was never going to be a successful filmmaker or writer, but with a magazine, I could create a space that brought all of these disciplines together. It became a kind of total artwork for me, a medium where I could experiment freely. And that experimentation still drives me –maybe even more now than when we began.

OZ: Yes, restlessness is essential. You
have to stay uncomfortable. Comfort
is the enemy of creation. That doesn’t mean chaos – it means tension. A desire to question, to push, to remain awake. A good magazine is a form of insomnia. You can’t sleep through it.

OZ: Yes, exactly. It’s a wake-up call.
Culture shouldn’t put you to sleep. That’s the problem with so much media today – it’s about sedation. Distraction. I want Purple to disturb, to inspire, to seduce, but never to numb. Beauty isn’t perfection. It’s something that touches you, that carries a kind of truth. Sometimes it’s elegance, sometimes it’s rawness. But it always makes you stop and feel.

OZ: That tension is important to me.
From the beginning, we were never interested in creating something polished or purely aspirational.
We wanted to reflect life, culture, and art as they happen – imperfect, spontaneous sometimes contradictory. It was always about mixing theory and
practice. High ideas with everyday life. It might sound abstract, but it has to do with honesty. And that kind of honesty can survive the commercial aspects if you treat your advertisers and collaborators with the same sense of dialogue. Commerce is not the enemy – it just needs boundaries.

OZ: Definitely.
Especially with the rise of influencer culture and algorithmic thinking. There’s pressure to conform, to optimize. But I believe in the long game. In building something with depth. That’s why I still print.  A printed page doesn’t disappear when you scroll past it. It stays. It insists on being seen. It’s a kind of resistance –against disappearance, against forgetting.

OZ: Yes, and memory is part of identity. You can’t build cultural memory through disappearing stories or trending topics. You need continuity. You need archives. That’s why a magazine is not just a product.
It’s a document. A trace. A witness.

OZ: It is. Japan’s post-war decision to
renounce war, to literally put peace into their constitution, is extraordinary. Especially when you look at the world today, where conflict and aggression are normalized, even celebrated. For me, that became a starting point to explore the deeper layers of Japanese culture. The art, the food, the fashion – all of it somehow
comes from that foundational principle of restraint, of reflection. It’s a culture of sensitivity. Of poetics. And it’s something we need to be reminded of in the West.

OZ: Exactly. I’m not interested in cultural tourism. We don’t need another travel guide to Tokyo. What
I wanted was a mirror. A way to
understand ourselves – in Berlin,
in Paris, wherever – through Japan.
What does their quiet say about our noise? What does their elegance say about our speed? That kind of reflection is essential in today’s world. Japan allows you to slow down your gaze. It’s a gift.

OZ: It is. There’s a return happening.
Young people are buying vinyl again. Film cameras. Printed books. There’s a suspicion toward digital life, and rightly so. So I want to make an issue that says: Here is why analog still matters. It’s not nostalgia. It’s a defense of presence. Of texture. Of slowness. All the things that make us human. There is an intimacy to analog.
You can’t fake it.

OZ: It came from La Carte du Tendre, this poetic map from the 17th century that charted love as a landscape. I thought, why not reimagine that today? Could we map our sexuality – not as something functional or digital, but as
an emotional, poetic territory? A terrain of desire, indifference, mystery. It’s an artistic idea, but also a political one. In an era where sex is commodified, surveilled, and reduced to data, a map like this could reclaim its depth, its freedom. We are more than our profiles. We are more than our swipes.

OZ: Yes, exactly. A map. A real object.
Something you unfold, touch, get lost in. Like we used to with road maps. Today, we follow a screen. We don’t look at the landscape anymore. Taxi drivers don’t know their cities. Lovers don’t know their bodies. We need to reclaim space. Real space. The map is also a metaphor for attention. For care.

OZ: Absolutely. Creativity, desire, even
politics – they all begin with the body. And we are losing that. We’re being reduced to avatars, screens, profiles. It’s a disembodiment. That’s why analog is radical. It’s sensual. It’s real. It insists on human presence.

OZ: Very. I don’t do the layouts myself,
but I work closely with my designer,
Gianni. He’s a true artist. The layout, the typography, the rhythm of the pages – that’s where the magic is. It’s not decoration. It’s storytelling. Some magazines look nice but feel empty. I want Purple to feel alive. Every page is part of the narrative. It’s like composing a score. The silence matters as much as the sound.

OZ: Yes, if you count everyone – writers, photographers, stylists, assistants, printers. It’s a village. But even with all these voices, the magazine needs a vision. It needs a conductor. That’s my role. To orchestrate it without controlling it.
To let it breathe, but keep it honest. To say no when needed. To protect the magazine’s soul.

OZ: Yes, I’m 60 now. I still love what I
do, and I want to keep doing it. But I also know I won’t be here forever. So I think about transmission. How do I pass on the spirit of Purple? Not just the brand, but the method, the attitude. That’s the challenge. I want Purple to outlive me. So I hope someone will pick it up and continue, not by imitation, but by transformation.

OZ: I know, and that’s the paradox. I had to become visible – especially with social media. If I didn’t put my face out there, people wouldn’t understand what Purple was. But now it’s a bit of a trap. I don’t want to be the brand. I want the magazine to be the message. I want to disappear into the pages.

OZ: More than ever. Because print forces you to be intentional. Every page costs something. Every image has weight. There’s no infinite scroll. No algorithm. Just presence. I think people are hungry for that again. For something they can trust. A magazine is a commitment – not just of money, but of time, of attention. That’s sacred.

OZ: Exactly. That’s the real mission. To
awaken. To provoke. To inspire. And maybe even to create a little beauty along the way. That’s enough for me.