As Miss Imogen Poots settles down following her photo shoot to chat about her role in the latest adaptation of Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre—which she describes as her ideal project—it’s quite apparent Poots is a young woman on the brink. A youthful freeness—met with an increasingly evolving worldview—is keeping the actress, at least philosophically, beautifully whimsical (she playfully refers to herself as “him” throughout the interview). As Poots continues to share on her recent foray into learning the fiddle, her pink hair and wide eyes belie an innocence and a capriciousness that infects your own person and sends...
Art and Fashion are magnets, repulsing each other, but invariably linked at the butt end. The fashion magnet pulls artists towards it with “collaborations” and the promise of piles of money and glamour. Rare is the artist—our divine lady Julie Verhoeven being of the exception-proving-the-rule variety—that begins embedded within fashion and then traverses to the other side. In fact, most artists hate fashion, and only trifle with the industry under the “collaborative” auspices (i.e. for heaps of legal tender). Verhoeven—possibly the sweetest person in the world with her disarmingly bubbly British lilt—began working in...
The Young Actress Deals in Defiant and Nuanced Identities
A Silverlake, L.A. crowd is gnawing on their leafy greens and lovingly slaughtered steaks on a breezy St. Patrick’s Day afternoon. Our lady in question sneaks up, tiny but recognizable, and before words are exchanged, she reaches up on tippy-toes for a hug. And so it goes with Juno Violet Temple, the dehiscent and happy young actress, happy even to be doing an interview on a Friday afternoon—an incalculable rarity amongst actors. She’s wearing a Cranberries T-shirt in solidarity to the holiday, and a nod to her love of music. “I get teased by my friends,” she says, blushing through...
Let’s get a few things out of the way: your loyal narrator, being a man of his word, will not dramatize the ensuing interview with Keira Knightley in any which way. Frankly, he’d love to. He’d love to have you thinking that he was sitting next to her throughout, enjoying the springtime rebirth of London’s streets from the back seat of her private car, which muscles its way through the awakened capital from historic AbneyPark Cemetery (where she’s just been photographed for our cover in the finest Spring selections) to her six o’clock appointment at the West End’s Comedy Theatre for a performance in Lillian Hellman’s play,...
The universe, some trillions of years old and vaster than the mind’s imagination, revolves around Tyler, The Creator. It’s something he’s well aware of. “Hi, I’m Jason,” he says in his impossibly husky voice, extending his big mitt towards mine as he hops off a custom painted Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All skateboard. “Sup, girl.” I sheepishly note the absurdity of a young man, a day over the age of 20, who was born with the name Jason (or was he?), but uses the mundane stage name of Tyler, calling me a girl. Nevermind that, it’s all part of the show. Odd Future is a nebulous, sinewy group of...
