I have recently been watching ‘Love Story’, the Ryan Murphy series about the whirlwind romance between John F. Kennedy Jr and Carolyn Bessette. But to me the program was really about another love affair entirely — that of John John and his Hat Hats, as he almost certainly didn’t call them. For a man with a remarkable head of hair, JFK Jr sure did love a baseball cap. (It is one of several things he and I have in common, though my father still maintains he never slept with Marilyn Monroe). Which got me wondering. What are the other all-time-great accessories that John F Kennedy Jr wore? Is it time to invest in ‘TriBeCa’? And when will someone commission a nine-part premium drama about the Bullmore family curse (gout)?
The titanium-clad point-and-shoot Minilux was released in September 1995 — the exact same month that Kennedy’s political-lifestyle magazine George was launched. Was JFK Jr on a self-commissioned photo assignment when this shot was taken? (‘Revealed: Manhattan’s Longest Dog Leads!’) Or was he simply directing the gaze back on the paparazzi who followed him like gulls to the trawler? Either way, there’s something sweetly ‘90s Vacation Dad’ about Kenendy’s leather strap and special carry case, which he struggles goofily with here. A special mention must also go to the embroidered hat, which my mother’s Aga tea kettle would quite like back now.
In all the endless ‘get the look’ influencer editorial that surrounds the new intrigue in JFK Jr’s style, one piece has been frequently overlooked: the wallet chain. Could it be that this item — last successfully worn in 2002 by the boy at my school who had a really great yo-yo collection but a really terrible father and would shove you into a locker accordingly — is beyond even the grasp of the Jacob Elordi-a-likes currently gumming up my social feed? Or is it high time that Aime Leon Dore released a £500 collab with Rip Curl, advertised inexplicably by shots of an old Italian man eating pasta?
Very JP Morgan Grad Scheme 2012, this. (Though anyone sporting a pale linen suit on their first day in the City would surely be banished immediately to the Cayman office.) Kennedy, who famously failed his bar exam twice (‘The Hunk Flunks!’ ran the headline), pulls off a look here that would render many lesser men as overgrown schoolboys on their first day of fourth form — entirely unaware that they are about to be hung from the rugby posts by their JanSport.
JFK Jr. (la «F» es de «fractura») solía contraponer sus impecables y precisos trajes azul marino de amo del universo a una estética de adrenalina ruda y desenfadada, plasmada, de la forma más evidente, en las diversas muñequeras y escayolas que lució a lo largo de los años. La escayola del tobillo, fruto de un accidente de parapente en 1999, fue quizá la más icónica: los dedos al aire, incluso con un traje de negocios gris, constituían sin duda una inusual grieta metafórica en la armadura del primogénito de Camelot, una frase de la que, la verdad, estoy muy orgulloso. Por desgracia, la escayola pronto se convirtió en un símbolo de la perdurable maldición de aquella misma dinastía. A John se la retiraron apenas un par de días antes del accidente aéreo mortal que sufrió frente a la costa de Martha’s Vineyard el 16 de julio de 1999, y se cree que la debilidad de su tobillo contribuyó al siniestro.
JFK Jr. utilizó un gran número de bicicletas de carretera y de montaña en sus recorridos por Manhattan, principalmente porque a menudo se olvidaba de ponerles el candado y, al volver, solía descubrir que se las habían robado. (En su honor, ahora yo también soy igual de descuidado con las bicicletas de Lime.) Entre los modelos se cuentan una GT de color rojo metalizado con manillar plano, una Peugeot de carreras gris tormenta, una TREK negro azabache, una Cignal amarillo plátano y, quizá la más atractiva de todas, una Gary Fisher Aquila morada con neumáticos todoterreno gris claro y manillar de cuernos, más que robusta para enfrentarse a los temibles adoquines de TriBeCa o a algún que otro paparazzi convertido en badén.
«Solía ir al trabajo en bicicleta todos los días», dijo Michael Gross, uno de los amigos de John y colaborador de George. «¿No te encanta la imagen de John Kennedy Jr. en bicicleta, libre como un pájaro? Es una imagen preciosa de alguien que vive en una jaula y encuentra una forma de escapar».
Previous Issue
Issue 4
Desde el deje de Marlborough de Jacob Elordi hasta el gruñido churchilliano de Lithgow, los mejores acentos de colegios privados británicos del cine suelen proceder de actores que jamás pisaron una cantina escolar.
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I have recently been watching ‘Love Story’, the Ryan Murphy series about the whirlwind romance between John F. Kennedy Jr and Carolyn Bessette. But to me the program was really about another love affair entirely — that of John John and his Hat Hats, as he almost certainly didn’t call them. For a man with a remarkable head of hair, JFK Jr sure did love a baseball cap. (It is one of several things he and I have in common, though my father still maintains he never slept with Marilyn Monroe). Which got me wondering. What are the other all-time-great accessories that John F Kennedy Jr wore? Is it time to invest in ‘TriBeCa’? And when will someone commission a nine-part premium drama about the Bullmore family curse (gout)?
The titanium-clad point-and-shoot Minilux was released in September 1995 — the exact same month that Kennedy’s political-lifestyle magazine George was launched. Was JFK Jr on a self-commissioned photo assignment when this shot was taken? (‘Revealed: Manhattan’s Longest Dog Leads!’) Or was he simply directing the gaze back on the paparazzi who followed him like gulls to the trawler? Either way, there’s something sweetly ‘90s Vacation Dad’ about Kenendy’s leather strap and special carry case, which he struggles goofily with here. A special mention must also go to the embroidered hat, which my mother’s Aga tea kettle would quite like back now.
In all the endless ‘get the look’ influencer editorial that surrounds the new intrigue in JFK Jr’s style, one piece has been frequently overlooked: the wallet chain. Could it be that this item — last successfully worn in 2002 by the boy at my school who had a really great yo-yo collection but a really terrible father and would shove you into a locker accordingly — is beyond even the grasp of the Jacob Elordi-a-likes currently gumming up my social feed? Or is it high time that Aime Leon Dore released a £500 collab with Rip Curl, advertised inexplicably by shots of an old Italian man eating pasta?
Very JP Morgan Grad Scheme 2012, this. (Though anyone sporting a pale linen suit on their first day in the City would surely be banished immediately to the Cayman office.) Kennedy, who famously failed his bar exam twice (‘The Hunk Flunks!’ ran the headline), pulls off a look here that would render many lesser men as overgrown schoolboys on their first day of fourth form — entirely unaware that they are about to be hung from the rugby posts by their JanSport.
JFK Jr. (la «F» es de «fractura») solía contraponer sus impecables y precisos trajes azul marino de amo del universo a una estética de adrenalina ruda y desenfadada, plasmada, de la forma más evidente, en las diversas muñequeras y escayolas que lució a lo largo de los años. La escayola del tobillo, fruto de un accidente de parapente en 1999, fue quizá la más icónica: los dedos al aire, incluso con un traje de negocios gris, constituían sin duda una inusual grieta metafórica en la armadura del primogénito de Camelot, una frase de la que, la verdad, estoy muy orgulloso. Por desgracia, la escayola pronto se convirtió en un símbolo de la perdurable maldición de aquella misma dinastía. A John se la retiraron apenas un par de días antes del accidente aéreo mortal que sufrió frente a la costa de Martha’s Vineyard el 16 de julio de 1999, y se cree que la debilidad de su tobillo contribuyó al siniestro.
JFK Jr. utilizó un gran número de bicicletas de carretera y de montaña en sus recorridos por Manhattan, principalmente porque a menudo se olvidaba de ponerles el candado y, al volver, solía descubrir que se las habían robado. (En su honor, ahora yo también soy igual de descuidado con las bicicletas de Lime.) Entre los modelos se cuentan una GT de color rojo metalizado con manillar plano, una Peugeot de carreras gris tormenta, una TREK negro azabache, una Cignal amarillo plátano y, quizá la más atractiva de todas, una Gary Fisher Aquila morada con neumáticos todoterreno gris claro y manillar de cuernos, más que robusta para enfrentarse a los temibles adoquines de TriBeCa o a algún que otro paparazzi convertido en badén.
«Solía ir al trabajo en bicicleta todos los días», dijo Michael Gross, uno de los amigos de John y colaborador de George. «¿No te encanta la imagen de John Kennedy Jr. en bicicleta, libre como un pájaro? Es una imagen preciosa de alguien que vive en una jaula y encuentra una forma de escapar».
Previous Issue
Issue 4
Desde el deje de Marlborough de Jacob Elordi hasta el gruñido churchilliano de Lithgow, los mejores acentos de colegios privados británicos del cine suelen proceder de actores que jamás pisaron una cantina escolar.
Don't miss next week
Get The Friday Five and the week's best stories straight to your inbox.