Hurry the Hell Up

Fabien Baron never planned on moving back to Paris full-time. He originally left in 1982, but it wasn’t until the outcome of the 2024 U.S. election that he gave himself some extra space for gratitude.

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“I do miss the city, but recently I said to myself for the first time, I’m really glad to be here,” he ventures, taking a beat to measure his words. Sporting the uniform of a fashion veteran who has nothing left to prove—logo-free black T-shirt and jeans, Celine glasses, Apple Watch, salt-and-pepper stubble—he settles at a sleekwhite conference table in an immaculate Haussmannian apartment-turned-office not far from the Palais-Royal gardens. Spare, save for a few abstract photographs, the décor is more serene than showy. Staffers—young, hip, upbeat—greet me in a way that skews more American than Parisian, yet the place is, blessedly, devoid of any Netflixian stereotypes. Laughter spills over from the next room.

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That the creative director is running a solid 45 minutes late is his architect’s fault—renovations have reached a fever pitch in his new apartment in the 7th arrondissement. But, having called New York home for more than half his life—from the South Street Seaport where he remembers catching Robert Longo taking photos from his rooftop to the Upper West Side with Michael Douglas as his neighbor—he finds the quaint streets of Saint-Germain too narrow and constricted. And therein lies Baron’s biggest adjustment thus far: the getting-around of it all.

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“It’s a little bit of a culture shock,” he says. “Paris is old and not practical for the type of life we have.” Not for him, the flâneur’s eminently Instagrammable indulgences and food porn from the market on the Boulevard Raspail. A spin through the stalls twice a year is enough. Granted, the cuisine here is far better, as is the quality of life and the noise level, too, he allows. As an aspiring expat who jettisoned the return of my round-trip ticket right around the time Baron was filming “Erotica” with Madonna at the Kitchen in New York, I can hardly disagree.

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As we detour into cultural differences, Baron surprises me by playing against the stereotype Americans typically observe of Parisians: Rather than open with non, his first response is always yes. But even so, “I’m still French,” he admits. “I’m always thinking we can do better, that the glass is half-empty more than half-full.” Despite the fact that his fellow countrymen tend to be chronically pissed off, he adds, “It’s a little more fun and jollier here. But what we’re doing is international, and the pace is quite quick. Quickness is not easy in Paris, which I find very stressful. Everything is more complicated,” he continues. “You have to do much more to get that easier, more practical lifestyle.” What Europeans lack in practicality comes down to built space, too, he reckons. “You start with this very cumbersome architecture and a lifestyle that is quite cluttered, almost medieval, with these tiny streets. In New York, everything is built to facilitate the flow of life.”

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Gone are pragmatic luxuries like having a private driver waiting downstairs in the morning. These days, the 65-year-old walks to his creative agency, crossing over the Seine, through the courtyard of the Louvre, past the Comédie-Française, and up the soon-to-be-planted-and-pedestrianized Rue de Richelieu to his office. New digs aside, though, he’s still on a New York pace. Every few weeks, Baron flies back to orchestrate with his staff of 80 or so who remain at the Baron & Baron H.Q. in the West Village.

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After more than four decades of industry-defining achievement, most famously restoring heritage glossies to the top of the pyramid and upending the luxury perfume industry with CK One, Baron still lives for the work. Even before a brief is over, he’s pictured the result. “My initial intuition is usually right,” he explains. “I have a problem-solver’s mind. I like what’s new, and I work very quickly. I also get really attached to it; I put my soul into the magazines, the advertising, the packaging. It’s always an expression of what’s inside me. But my enthusiasm is a problem, too, because I have a limited amount of time, and I need to focus on where I want to put my energy.”

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For Baron, the notion of “quality time left” has become an everyday preoccupation. He’s also increasingly attuned to the flip side of American-style success: “Greed for money has hurt the U.S. a lot, because [Americans] cut corners. They don’t understand quality,” he says. “That’s where it’s interesting to be in the middle, because I know about history; I know about practicality, speed, efficiency, and cost. I have a good understanding of the two, so my palette is quite wide.”

High or low, he relishes it all. Though most of his projects for houses like Louis Vuitton, Dior, Coach, and others are trussed up in N.D.A.s, Baron evokes two recent ones, both for long-standing clients. One is an “incredible” spring campaign for an Italian high-fashion house, shot with longtime collaborator Steven Meisel. The other is a sprawling 50th-anniversary production for Zara, though he stops short of offering further details, pivoting instead to the reason why he is still an up-with-the-sun, happy-Monday kind of guy: It’s about the people.

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“When I see talent, I still get really excited,” he says, citing new-gen filmmakers like the Safdie brothers. “They’re rough, raw, very chaotic. It’s very true and very real.” Then there are perennial favorites such as Wong Kar-wai, Jean-Luc Godard, and Pier Paolo Pasolini, and photographers like Craig McDean, David Sims, Mario Sorrenti, and Meisel, many of whom he’s worked with frequently over his career. Indeed, Baron is nothing if not loyal, calling on friends like Pat McGrath, Guido Palau, and Karl Templer for projects.

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“Even after all this time, they always bring something that’s new to me, that I haven’t seen, that I learn from, so it makes me a new person,” he says. The recent Italian shoot was one example: “I showed up at the studio knowing the type of picture [Meisel] was going to take. Here’s someone who’s really methodical, but he was ahead of the game. He changed the light and brought this more throwaway quality, and it works perfectly. It’s theatrical, and it made sense. To me, that’s the beauty of [the work]. I love seeing that shift of the mind.”

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In the same vein, Baron credits his own success to the alchemy of just a few instants. “Every time I meet that person, it’s immediate, like we’ve known each other for a very long time. And just like that, they fulfill your life. With Franca [Sozzani] it was total harmony and osmosis. A perfect fit. Same with Liz [Tilberis]. Calvin [Klein], too.”

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That said, he doesn’t feel like reminiscing. “I don’t ‘belly-button’ on things,” Baron says. “When I’m done, I’m done, so let’s move on.” The only exception is a twinge of wistfulness for the way New York was when he first arrived there from Paris. “It’s more about discovering and being in a city that was totally different than it is now. I’m attached to that feeling.”

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Though that world lives on only in pictures, his next project is rooted in that time. While Baron was busy forging a reputation by working fast and generating commercial buzz, he was also seeding his next act as an artist in his own right. He describes his “other job” as a slow-blooming assemblage of obsessive, almost meditative, and, although he’s not religious, somewhat spiritual personal projects. “All these years, I’ve been taking pictures, using photography to move into other mediums, doing multiples and multiples and multiples, overthinking the artwork and never doing anything with it,” he says. “It’s always, ‘This one is good,’ and, ‘That one isn’t.’ I need to just keep going.”

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“When I’m done, I’m done, so let’s move on.” — Fabien Baron

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The as-yet-unseen opus is such that it will span five books, now simultaneously in production, which could serve as a basis for exhibitions and, one presumes, gallery representation. Once published, the tomes will reveal, variously, a serigraphic project that uses pictures to cross over into other mediums, or sculptures incorporating typography, a nod to his father, a newspaper designer. One will feature a series of photographs of trees. Another will focus on the seascapes Baron began shooting in 1982 by carting a large-format camera to the beach in the Hamptons. The most recent addition dates to last summer, but he’s still not done. Satellite projects include video installations and, perhaps, a film of his own.

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If Baron sees that last piece as what he calls “the final battle,” it’s because he intends for it to be meaningful. “When you’re 30, you do one movie, and then maybe there’s a second one, and then a third—like I did with the magazines,” he says. “Oh, Italian Vogue, great, fabulous! Then [Harper’s] Bazaar, oh my God! But now I would have to do that at 65, and I don’t think I have the time. So, if I want to do a feature, it has to be right away. That’s very difficult, but I’m still looking. I haven’t lost my enthusiasm.”

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Meanwhile, the work continues. “It’s the center of my life. Maybe I’m addicted, but I don’t see that as a negative,” he says. Retirement, if it ever comes, will happen only because he just can’t do it anymore. Until then, there’s only one speed: full throttle. “I believe in doing what you are here to do. Every day has to count,” Baron continues. “I find happiness and peace in that. It’s what keeps me alive. Doing it with success and recognition, that’s a nice feeling.”