Waris Ahluwalia: ‘You don’t get a fee for being on a moodboard’
Fashion is often used to be part of a tribe. To fit in, to belong. But I am happy with my place in the world. I’m not bothered if I turn up in a T-shirt and jeans and everyone else is in suits. I can only imagine how confusing I am to people who love to have a framework for the world around them. Besides a dandy, I’ve been referred to as hipster royalty, man about town, It boy. Whatever works for you. It’s simple for me: I like telling a story, and I can do that through film, cashmere, diamonds or ink on a piece of paper. I look at my clothes as a uniform. To be honest, the only label I am comfortable with is Waris.
As an actor, I have been very fortunate to work with some incredible directors, including Spike Lee, Wes Anderson and recently with Deepa Mehta. That was on the gangster movie Beeba Boys and for that we wore crazy, bright-coloured suits as our uniforms. The vision was Deepa’s – I was just there as a kind of sounding board. With Wes Anderson, I tend to leave it in the maestro’s hands because he knows exactly what he wants. Sometimes a detail is picked up here and there. For The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou, I had a bandana around my wrist when I arrived in Italy for the shoot and my character also has a bandana, in baby blue.
As an adult, my first experience with a tailor was during the filming of The Life Aquatic. Milena [Canonero, the costume designer] asked me if I would like to get a suit made by the guy who worked on The Godfather. He was more than 80 years old and barely spoke English. It was an incredible experience and I never went back to off-the-rack. A suit, more than anything else, when fitted properly, can feel like a suit of armour. The idea of a suit is that if you look like a gentleman, you’ll behave like a gentleman. That doesn’t always work – look at our politicians – but one can hope.
Ahluwalia with Owen Wilson, Adrien Brody and Jason Schwartzman in Wes Anderson’s The Darjeeling Limited. Photograph: Sportsphoto Ltd/Allstar/Fox Searchlight
I wore a white suit for my sixth-grade graduation – but, like any lost youth, my look would change depending on the genre of music I was into at the time. It went from heavy metal to hip-hop to house, and they all required different uniforms, including steel-toe boots with skulls for my metal phase.
I walked into the studio and it was full of pictures of me. I went straight back out – a guy needs a little warning
Cinema has also played a big part in my life, so the clothes that have influenced me are more about characters than just a look. There’s David Niven in Around The World In 80 Days. It’s a spectacular film, and wherever he ends up he has with him his wit, charm and a sharp suit. There’s Kris Kristofferson in Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore. Much more casual, but still a gentleman in 1970s denim. The third one is Gregory Peck as Atticus Finch in To Kill A Mockingbird. He wears a suit well, but without the character the clothes are a facade. They have to match the moment and, more importantly, they have to match the man.
Modelling his S/S 17 collaboration with The Kooples. Photograph: Kevin Ohana
The Kooples reached out through a friend to say that I was the muse for their new collection and they wanted to collaborate. This was interesting because they wanted to do something together, rather than just objectify. Over the years I’ve been told that I’ve made my way on to a moodboard or two – to which I always think, “I could be involved, I have a mind and ideas to share.” Plus, you don’t get a fee for being on a moodboard.
When I walked into their Paris studio and three of the four walls were covered with pictures of me, I walked straight back out again – a guy needs a little warning. As a first step they had made a colour palette for me that was based on my sartorial behaviour and I knew we were on the same page.
The turban I wear is a reflection of my religion, Sikhism. Yet what it has taught me is the values that exist beyond the structure of any organised religion – it’s about respecting people and living without fear. When I was asked to remove my turban for airport security last year, to board a flight from Mexico City to New York, I was very confused. How would you feel if that happened to you? If someone said you couldn’t go home? It was upsetting to say the least.
But life is a funny collection of experiences and we shouldn’t take too much joy or pain from any of them. I didn’t yell – life is too busy to take things personally – but I needed the airline to make a public apology, to admit the mistake, in order to create change. Everybody makes mistakes, including me – just ask my ex-girlfriends. It’s our factory default setting as human beings. It’s how we recover from those mistakes that matters.
This article appears in the spring/summer 2017 edition of The Fashion, the Guardian and the Observer’s biannual fashion supplement