The Man in Black.
by Dean Mayo Davies
Panos Yiapanis is the stylist who injected subculture and emotion into high fashion during the late 90’s and early 00’s, building him into a cult for both pensive teens and insightful, progressive designers such as Raf Simons and Helmut Lang in the process. Ponystep was privileged enough to engage in an email dialogue with the Camden-dwelling, globe-trotting creative. The end results are bathed in honesty, incisiveness and humility, showcasing how Yiapanis’ mind is every bit as sharp as his eye.
Having worked with every major label that matters - yes, including Chanel haute couture - Panos today occupies a further cult: that of the stylist’s stylist, respected (and demanded by) the editors that matter, including Jefferson Hack, Stephen Gan, Jo-Ann Furniss and Katie Grand. As well as designers like Rick Owens and Riccardo Tisci. And that effervescent icon, Courtney Love. It’s no surprise to learn then that his work, whilst retaining its vital intensity, has pushed forward consistently to develop into something more complex. Put simply, the iron fist is now free to play with a velvet glove. And sheathed or not, it packs a punch.
Dean Mayo Davies: Your work has a very precise vision. Instead of doing shoots which look dramatically different from each other every time (like some other stylists), you have an agenda which you mould your models to - they all look like part of the same gang. You make fashion uniform, make it work for you to tell your story. Was this a conscious choice from the beginning, or was it something that evolved?
Panos Yiapanis: Nothing was conscious, especially in the beginning. If anything, it was naïve, in that I came into this job not really knowing what it was I was doing. The images, especially in the beginning, were more a reflection of myself and my surroundings. So if that resulted in creating a sartorial uniform, it did not originally stem from some sense of visual integrity but more from the fact that, in all honesty, it’s all I could do. I never had that wealth of knowledge of fashion history to draw upon or reference. It’s almost taken me the better half of a decade to fully embrace and come to terms with the fact that my limitations and inexperience were my biggest assets. Obviously as my career progressed and evolved I found myself searching for external sources of inspiration, outside my personal experiences and to this day that probably has been the hardest challenge. Finding that ability to develop and expand your vocabulary without drastically changing your aesthetic.
DMD: Do you have your own uniform? What clothes do you normally wear?
PY: I don’t know if I would necessarily call it a uniform but there is definitely a correlation between what I wear and my work. I would consider it absurd if the one didn’t inform the other. I really believe in fundamental principle of having the conviction to merge my work and appearance, even if the consequences of adhering to that result in me parading around in lace boxers and cropped kilts. Otherwise it all seems quite pointless.
DMD: I first remember seeing your work in i-D, on a shoot with Corinne Day. It was one of several things that made me realise it was OK to like fashion: fashion could have an agenda, a realism and that there was another way, another viewpoint that was artistic. Have you always had a fascination with clothes? Since this mindset didn’t exist until your generation of protagonists - yourself, Corinne, Venetia Scott, Juergen, Terry Richardson...
PY: Well, it was the people you mentioned above who paved the way and forged the necessary change for me to have a career in fashion. With regards to styling, no one more so than Melanie Ward who, in my opinion, through her collaborations with photographers such as David Sims and Corinne Day truly redefined the perception of beauty and the charm of imperfections. My life, not just my career, has at certain times been marked by individuals who have in some way left an indelible mark on me. My friendship with Corinne provided me both with the impulse and impetus to become a stylist. But it was the dialogue we shared and the way we fed off one another’s thoughts and ideas that really impacted my method of self-expression. We had the luxury of spending 6 months doing an editorial, talking all week about one picture and spending a whole day shooting it. We always shot the same people over and over and with a few exceptions they were our friends. This approach is a luxury that is no longer viable, but the core desire of nurturing a bond of loyalty, consistency and friendship with the people you work with is so valuable in an industry that is so driven by change and the pursuit of novelty.
DMD: Who were your style icons growing up? In our age of mainstream vacuousness, are the anonymous teenagers on the street the only thing left to believe in?
PY: Well growing up in Athens, my early teenage years weren’t really informed by any notions of style or icons. I was more preoccupied with pathetic attempts at fitting in with a very conservative society. My first understanding of a style icon was seeing pictures of Amanda Harlech. She conjures up all these images of Dickensian heroines, this extinct breed of women who unwittingly inspire and bemuse. She’s that rare example of a woman whose style is impeccable and yet so inconsequential in comparison to her beauty, intellect, charm, and the life she’s led, I can go on and on.
DMD: Your work is very much rooted in subculture and an attitude, which gives it an authenticity often lacking from fashion, especially at a very high-profile level. It’s something you’ve managed to maintain consistently throughout the best part of a decade now. Is there a pressure to dilute your idiosyncrasy from people that don’t get it but want to buy into your ‘brand’?
PY: I think the only real pressure has come from myself. It’s true that at some stage the annotation that you’re “a little too dark – eccentric” becomes tiresome and you find yourself thinking that in order to advance you almost have to degenerate. I spent the last 2 years trying to find what I thought would be an acceptable balance between creativity and commerce, only to realize that commerce is most successful when it is a by-product of one’s creativity. I’m often dismayed when I look at the standard of work in today’s publications which are often as exciting as Argos catalogues. I find that I’m questioning the motive and more so, the desire that drives someone to create an image. Whereas before I felt it was in search of a beautiful exciting visual I now find myself fearing that financial gain has completely taken over. I do not underestimate the huge billion dollar machine that we all are immersed in but disagree with the climate that we have created. The most prosperous periods of any business or industry are when they are at their most creative and willing to take risks. I feel it’s become a machine churning out blandness and banality and we have all just become lazy giving the least we can get away with.
DMD: Looking at your images, apart from being incredibly sculptural, they’re noisy, in terms of being passionate and kinetic. A kind of distilled violence. Music has informed your identity, yes? What records have shaped you and made you into the person you are today?
PY: Obviously music has both informed and inspired my work, not solely as an aesthetic reference point but also through its cultural and social impact. I don’t think I’ve made my musical references so obscure for me to have to list what those records and who those musicians are. And the few gems and embarrassing ones are best enjoyed undisclosed.
DMD: You’ve worked with - and continue to - some of the most definitive designers of our time. Could you tell us what have been your highlights so far?
PY: I’ve had to re-write this answer so many times as it’s really hard to clarify the relationship I have with Rick [Owens]. Aside from his work, he’s one of those rare creatures you come across in life that you grab and never let go. He’s like a brother, teacher, weird ex lover, bully and best friend – and you don’t often get to say that about someone you work with. Topping that would be a mean feat.
DMD: Which other creatives in the fashion industry do you respect?
PY: Answers to questions like this tend to read like one’s client-list. Though I must voice my admiration and respect for my agent/sister, Anya for the many creative routes she has to take in order for me to be at the right job, in the right country and almost on time and fully clothed.