
Don't Tell Wardrobe
Every pair of sample trousers is hemmed for a man who doesn't exist. So I travel with a needle, and for six years nobody noticed.
Menswear & Editorial Model

Lot 001 — cut & sewn in Milan
I learned to thread a needle before I learned to ride a bicycle. My grandfather kept a tailor shop off Ferdowsi Street in Tehran, and I grew up underneath his cutting table - literally, that's where the off-cuts fell, and whoever sat down there sorted them by weight. By ten I could sew a straight seam. By fourteen I could name a wool's weight by rolling it between two fingers, a party trick I have never once been asked to perform at a party. Modelling found me years later, at a friend's lookbook shoot in Milan. The shop found me first, and it still runs everything I do.
Tailoring taught me the things castings can't. I know where a jacket wants to break at the shoulder, why trousers move differently half a centimetre shorter, and how to stand so a garment shows its cut instead of my opinion of myself. Photographers tell me I don't fight the clothes. That's because I know what the person who made them wanted them to do - for most of my life, I was that person, kneeling on the floor with pins in my mouth. On set, patience is the whole job: hold the line of the seam, wait for the light, don't rush the cloth.

Every pair of sample trousers is hemmed for a man who doesn't exist. So I travel with a needle, and for six years nobody noticed.

It's brass, dented on one side, slightly too big for my finger, and it has been to more fashion capitals than most editors.

You can always tell, in a photograph, whether the man is wearing the suit or the suit is wearing the man. The difference is about four millimetres.

Menswear & Editorial Model, based in Milan, Italy and available wherever the work is cut. For castings and bookings, send word to the workroom.
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