Sound of Silence

Classique, an understated café frequented by Haider Ackermann, is located just off rue des Martyrs, a nexus of neighborhood activity in the 9th arrondissement of Paris. He is seated outdoors, facing outward, but as I approach, he stands and insists I benefit from the quintessentially Parisian vantage point. A woman dressed in what looks like head-to-toe Phoebe Philo walks by, tearing off a piece of baguette; a couple next to us kisses every few minutes; an adorable dog is hanging out of a bike basket. Ackermann’s presence overrides all the distractions.

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The masterful Colombia-born designer known for lush, romantic mens and womenswear says that his style has never been calculated. Which means he likely didn’'t overthink today’s artfully hodgepodge look: a grey T-shirt boasting a hole no larger than a pinprick and a matching sweatshirt tied around his shoulders. The lavender silk neck accessory twisted and tucked just so. The jeans covered with paint splatter, the sky-blue socks, the finest crocodile Oxfords from his time at Berluti. (He reveals that his Paris apartment doesn’t have a single full-length mirror.) He also exudes handsomeness beyond his dress—traces of Paris, Hollywood, and New York—along with a composite influence from Ethiopia, Chad, and Algeria, where his adoptive parents traveled with him before settling in the Netherlands.

Removing his beat-up New York cap and sunglasses, Ackermann insists that the small glass of champagne on the table is a rare indulgence for 5:30 p.m. on a weekday (normally, his order is chamomile tea). But then, he also says he isn’t often on a café terrace at this hour. Since joining Canada Goose as creative director, he now has an
office near the Concorde. From 2022 through last year, his time was divided between guest-designing the Spring 2023 Haute Couture collection for Jean Paul Gaultier and collaborating with Fila on stylized sportswear. The word “hiatus” is used to describe the state of his own label following the unfortunate fallout with his former business partner, Anne Chapelle. The good news is, he is, once again, in possession of his name (a cruel occurrence in the fashion industry that has befallen others, such as Halston). Without betraying what lies beyond this period, Ackermann spends our time together in a direct yet hopeful headspace.

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It feels fitting to refer to Haider by his first name. Perhaps because this is how fashion cognoscenti acknowledge him (albeit more informally than the official mononym adopted by Demna). Or because Haider has a captivating sound, originating from Arabic as lion, thus carrying distinguished connotations. Or simply because Haider, 53, possesses a star quality akin to his two famous friends, who are also called by their first names: Tilda and Timothée. They appear throughout each other’s social feeds. When asked whether he gets recognized as a result, he says yes, down-playing the reason. “I think it’s the mustache...but honestly, people are really, really kind to me.”

When Haider surfaces in a fashion context, he is impossible to miss. For Dries Van Noten’s final runway collection this summer, he looked particularly debonair in a smoking jacket and dark glasses, his signature scarf accent slung low. He will often attend Nicolas Ghesquière’s Louis Vuitton shows, but he says these appearances are the exceptions, describing himself as “a boring person,” one that prefers to be at home rather than out on the town.

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What does this home look like? “Everything is pure white,” Haider tells me. “There’s a couch and tons of books, but then there’s nothing. It’s just totally emptiness. And I need it. I need this quietness, and I need this peace.” This pared-back description seems incongruent with his saturated colors and sensual silhouettes—a dramatic drape countered by impeccable tailoring—that would leave critics swooning after his runway shows.

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Interestingly, he says, were he to relaunch his line today, it would be different, too. “A Haider collection today would be quieter than the Haider from the past. I would dream it to be so silent; it would be so extremely present. That’s what I would love it to be. That silence would be the noise. That would be a luxury,” he says. “I would dream of those clothes, which are so selfish, just so luxurious that it’s only you who can feel the lining. Only you can go into your pocket and understand that it’s cashmere inside.” He is not talking about the same quiet luxury catchall that lately results in an eye roll. Instead, he is in pursuit of what it means for clothes to be “noble” and how this imbues the design with dignity. “I’m not a person who, every season, can do something new. I’m in this league of designers who see continuity in their work.”

Haider gives the impression of someone who is never not thinking about design. “You watch a movie, you look at the gesture of this actor or this actress,” he tells me. “You see the vase, a painting, whatever. You’re always this kind of voyeur thinking, How am I going to translate this into my world?” He also remains a die-hard romantic, at least in the way he associates clothes with memories. About holding onto clothes: “That’s your diary. It’s your love life. It’s the people who passed in your life. I do not know how to unlove my partners. So of course I’m not going to throw the clothes away that have a story or a memory that I’ve shared with someone. No, I wear them over and over. I mean this T-shirt, it’s broken. It must be 50 years old,” he says with affection rather than embarrassment.

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The designer seems acutely sensitive to how the industry has changed since he was last showing four collections per year. “The world has become more aggressive, and same with this business. How much can you compete with them? Where do you position yourself? [I have] a lot of questions concerning this. I’m not 20 anymore.”

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“I just have a feeling the best years are yet to come. I can't express it. It's strange. Me, who has always been this kind of insecure person...I think I've overcome the worst.”
— Haider Ackermann

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Still, he misses the runway. Declining a second glass of champagne, he says, “There’s nothing more exciting than this nervousness and this anxiety and this excitement. To hear the movement of the fabrics and the reaction of the girls and the makeup artist, the hair stylist, the technician for the light—I certainly love this whole part.”

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The rush, in other words. Asked whether he is a risk-taker, his eyes narrow slightly with a cheeky glimmer. “It depends,” he pauses, almost for dramatic effect. “If I’m on a bike, yes.” On the spectrum of extremes, this may strike some as harmless, but Haider admits he can veer towards recklessness. “I’m a danger. I’m a total danger. I fight with my friends and my partner because I love to put on my headphones, music as loud as possible. I go through all the red lights. I love the danger of a bike. I go very fast.”

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Whatever motivates this urge, perhaps it’s a counterpoint to the elusive aura that the designer has maintained throughout his time in the public eye. It’s not easy to pinpoint this air of intrigue, but it was also embedded in his label—how silhouettes simultaneously reveal and conceal, for instance. People were drawn to the rigor of his designs, but the general look typically felt unconstrained, seductive, and, dare I say, even opulent at times. A little Belgian, a little Baudelaire. And even as he moves on to other projects or collaborations, he still leaves us feeling that he views fashion beyond a commercial endeavor, that he is tapped into a true pursuit for something he has yet to determine.

He turns serious as we briefly touch upon enduring setbacks. “There are things I will never allow anymore. You learn this the hard way. And that’s okay.” But from setback to comeback, he is unequivocal. “I just have a feeling the best years are yet to come,” he says. “I can’t express it. It’s strange. Me, who has always been this kind of insecure person...I think I’ve overcome the worst.”

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As the late-day sun glows between the Paris buildings, the designer continues: “I’m in a place where I’m ready to embrace the future.” At once convincing and cryptic, he suggests that he has figured out what his next goal must be. Will he feel unfulfilled if he doesn’t reach it? Haider smiles, “Oh, yeah. I still have a story to tell.”

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Groomer LOUISE LOCTIN.
Set Designer PIERRE-ALEXANDRE FILLAIRE.
Set Design Assistants TAISIIA KRUTIKOVA and BELLA STERN.
Executive Producer SIYAN CHEN.