Jean Paul Gaultier
Photographed by Irving Penn, Vogue, March 1991

“The Maestro of Mayhem,” an article by Georgina Howell, originally appeared in the March 1991 issue of Vogue. To explore more highlights from Vogue’s archives, subscribe to our Nostalgia newsletter here.

Jean Paul Gaultier, fashion’s rebellious icon and Madonna’s favorite designer, continues to shock, entertain, and inspire. Yet, beyond his outrageous concepts, Georgina Howell discovers a man with true tailoring talent.

Amidst the adult cinemas and tourist cafes of the Champs Elysées, the Jean Paul Gaultier show is about to start. While it may not be Saint Laurent, for some, this eccentric display is the main event. Diana Ross, for example, hidden behind her bright smile and dark sunglasses, eagerly awaits the excitement. She’s still energized from a late night at Jezebel restaurant with Azzedine Alaïa and a day of shopping with Iman and Grace Jones.

Near the curtains, security has caught a few fans without tickets attempting to sneak into the dressing rooms. Along the runway, photographers good-naturedly push a new English colleague out of his small spot on the red carpet. Photographer Roxanne Lowit explains, “Gaultier is like Vivienne Westwood but with more influence and acclaim.”

Backstage is where the true essence of Gaultier’s world comes alive. In these worn-down spaces where showgirls once applied glitter and flaunted feathers, a scene straight out of a Fellini film unfolds. A man and woman in matching pink suits and elaborate wigs dance slowly, locking eyes as Herb Ritts captures the moment. Against this bright backdrop, two male models share a passionate kiss.

“It’s better to watch from back here than out front,” says Madonna, leaning against a dirty wall with her sulky, Roman-nosed boyfriend, model Tony Ward. He’s in a mesh vest and sarong, while she wears a tight black dress and a string of black beads, her iconic face framed by a headband. She nibbles on fries from a paper cup.

“This is dinner in Paris!” Madonna jokes, offering Tony a fry. “But we eat this at home too.”

Fashion editors nearby grumble that she’s been going without underwear all week, but today she’s on her best behavior. She advises Tony, “You took off your waistcoat too quickly. Do it slowly…” and shares, “This is my absolute favorite show. Always Gaultier, even before he designed for my world tour.”

Beyond her protective bodyguards, three young men laugh and sit on each other’s laps. Ben from Brussels, a lightweight kickboxer, boasts, “I’m a damn good model, but if my nose gets broken, I’ll find another job,” before being overshadowed by the towering Max Rosa. Max, the Brazilian assistant manager of the Beverly Wilshire Hotel, gained fame as Gaultier’s “First Man in a Skirt.” Perched on his large knees is Thierry Perez, blowing kisses to co-model Rossy “the Nose” de Palma, known for her role in Pedro Almodóvar’s Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown.

The maestro himself arrives with a loud laugh and animated gestures, bowing to kiss the hand of a woman who outshines the other models. Mme Evelyne Tremois, a 70-year-old grandmother, is an elegant lady in turquoise cashmere, an Hermès scarf, and a stylish handbag. Gaultier, always searching for “charisma” in any form, discovered her at an open casting call last summer at Galeries Lafayette. Now that he only presents his collections on couples, he pairs her with her runway “husband.”For the day, I’m with twenty-eight-year-old Scott Benoit, who’s playing the role of “husband.”

“I heard that Jean Paul Gaultier was looking for a model between seventy and seventy-seven,” she tells me calmly, taking off her kid gloves. “Life has been a bit tough lately, so I thought, why not give it a try?” She subtly moves closer. “I think he wants me to wear one of those cotton wool wigs, but I told him I didn’t think so.”

Jean Paul, ever the gentleman, continues to greet his models in order of importance. He’s a lively, sturdy figure with a shaved head and a tuft of bleached hair, exuding charm and skillfully managing his diverse and sometimes unruly team. He kisses the very pregnant Leslie Navarras, then a model friend from his Cardin days, Anna Pawlowski, before embracing the energetic Sergio Viana, who’s dressed as Adam for the show’s opening. Sergio, wearing only pink tights and a codpiece made of a coiled metal serpent with a trembling butterfly, tiptoes while talking to Gaultier, who stomps around in heavy boots and a T-shirt like a marine.

“I’m pretty much the star of the show,” Sergio boasts, flipping his glossy, waist-length hair. “Jean Paul saw my portfolio and just loved me.” He licks his lips. “Being in the spotlight is a bit scary. I’m a surfer and actor back home, and I’ve been on Good Morning America. And I’m still so young—only twenty-one!” He bends to adjust his tights, and his face suddenly contorts in pain. “Aaaaah!” he screams, as it seems a sensitive part of him got caught between the serpent and the butterfly spring.

Leaving Sergio with tears in his eyes, I catch up with Gaultier, who’s stomping out cigarette butts with his boots for the barefoot models, pretending to bite his nails, and radiating confidence and energy.

“This isn’t just about putting on a show,” he exclaims, gesturing with his hands as if balancing a tray and shaking it vigorously. “It pushes the style of the clothes. Here in France, we’re stuck in a rut of chic! If fashion shows didn’t exist, I wouldn’t be in fashion!”

His gaze falls on a bubbly blonde in a tulle tutu smoking a pipe and on Ben, who’s struggling into a see-through romper with matador embroidery, a peaked cap, and mittens. The designer, known for putting men in gingham and open-toed high-heeled sneakers and dressing Madonna in crucifixes and corsets for her Blond Ambition tour, lets out a laugh.

“Where does it say this fabric is for women and that for men?” He thumps his chest comically with his fist, a logical man baffled by the absurdity. “It’s like saying this vegetable is for girls to eat, that for boys. Ridiculous! We tackled equality, we did toy boys, and now we’re taking it a step further… And it’s not bad for the fashion editors,” he shouts over his shoulder as he marches off to start the lineup. “It gives them some ideas!”

His tone hints they could use the inspiration. Slow critical acceptance and fading enthusiasm for shock fashion have left their mark on this perpetually young thirty-eight-year-old designer, despite his generally upbeat nature. Fashion editors had their doubts about men in chiffon and women with horn-like breasts. It took them time to appreciate one-shouldered tuxedos and thigh-high laced boots for men. They struggled with bracelets made from cat-food cans and outfits that combined a trouser leg with a skirt. After a huge effort and five collections, Gaultier found himself $12,000 in debt. He didn’t give up, but in his photo-filled memoir, A nous deux la mode, he doesn’t hold back in criticizing the French fashion editors who panned his early work.

The turning point came in 1979 when the Japanese company Kashiyama backed him for the sixties-inspired James Bond collection that finally made his name. But he still…He feels the sting of rejection. His video with Jean-Baptiste Mondino was a humorous parody of an interview with Selina Scott, Britain’s elegant but somewhat reserved fashion presenter, blending Rai music, Edith Piaf songs, and the sounds of farm animals.

“A naughty boy?” asks Mondino, the director behind Yves Saint Laurent’s Jazz fragrance ad, who recently regained attention with Madonna’s provocative “Justify My Love” video. “An enfant terrible? Not at all! He’s not just a performer. He’s fully prepared. He’s done his research. He could be a mainstream fashion designer. He knows ‘How to do that’—which is what we called his in-house video. He understands how to manage large projects and all the politics involved.”

By the late eighties, the French underground was most fascinated by blending contrasts. The leading provocateurs in Paris were Gaultier, Mondino, and Jean-Paul Goude, the creative mastermind behind Grace Jones and the stylist and photographer for Jungle Fever. Together and individually, this trio generated enough sexual, social, and cultural upheaval to reshape youth culture.

“Paris has always been a great place to step back and reflect,” Mondino remarks. “We’ve been experimenting with the contrasts between man and woman, rich and poor, black and white—it’s very democratic! Suddenly, figures like Martine Sitbon, Prince, and Mike Tyson seemed essential to us. Meanwhile, Jean Paul was transforming fashion into style, incorporating music, video, adult shop items, films, and the technical innovations from sportswear brands like Nike.”

At the core of it all, Mondino adds, striking a pose, was the effort to ready society for a future where the underprivileged might take charge.

“Maybe Goude and I have reached our limits. But Jean Paul has more to contribute because he works through fashion. And he moves faster than any of us.”

In the Galerie Vivienne, a charming arcade behind Gaultier’s provocative boutique with its restroom-style changing rooms and patched concrete floor, I was invited to inspect the clothes on hangers rather than on the runway. I found that, stripped of the visual spectacle and attractive models, the garments were indeed flawlessly crafted and even supported Gaultier’s constant assertion of being fixated on traditional tailoring. There were many pinstriped suits that looked as if they’d been through some ordeal—shortened, oddly gathered like pleated curtains, or trimmed with garden shears. I also learned that this advocate for the poor sells coats for about $1,600 and T-shirts for $160.

Just then, Gaultier rushed in, exchanged a few jokes with his team, exclaimed “Bon!” five times, and plopped down at a glass-and-metal table, ready for questioning. He wore his usual striped T-shirt, black blazer with a tag on the back, jeans, and boots, along with a large waterproof wristwatch.

“This watch is a big lie!” he declared, noticing my gaze. “It suggests I’m athletic. I say I’m not. But it was a gift from a good friend, and I love the pleated strap. Pretty, isn’t it?”

He rubbed the stubble on the back of his neck and shifted in his seat. “Did you like the collection? A show conveys the spirit and direction, but that’s not enough. Sometimes there’s a show. Sometimes there are clothes. I try to do both.” Each of his shows is more like a video than a fashion parade, with its own narrative and title, such as The Last Five Minutes, Pretty Mister, or Of the Solemn Communion in Paradise. In one collection, he explored the idea of White Russians fleeing to Paris with their jewels and formal wear, then working as taxi drivers and manicurists. Another collection was entirely inspired by the image of a concierge.

“I grew up watching those old films from the forties, with Arletty and Marcel Carné, always featuring the stock character of the concierge in a printed apron, an old cardigan, a scarf, and a cigarette stuck to her lips.””Her bottom lip!” He snorted with laughter. “I adored the look. In a strange way, I’m only following what Chanel did before me. She dressed duchesses like maids, in simple black dresses with white collars.” He leaned forward, hands flat on the glass. “Between us, the chic doesn’t come from the clothes—it comes from the person. Or not!”

Alongside his more affordable Junior Gaultier line, his label now brings in $120 million a year. He owns half a dozen of his own shops and also sells through boutiques in major department stores. His new collection, “1 + 1 = 1,” explores the union of male and female clothing, swapping gender stereotypes piece by piece. Business suits become backless or shoulderless, a girl’s hem transforms into a man’s tailcoat or even an umbrella. Some designs are just for fun, like the pleated nylon wedding dress with a 22-meter train, showcased in a pink glow with chirping bird sounds and dangling plaster cherubs. This likely reminds Jean Paul of the wedding dresses he once designed for Pronuptia. At the show’s rehearsal, he laughed so hard at the bridal scene that he fell off the catwalk into the front row.

“I wanted to feature both sexes together five years ago, but men’s fashion was still underdeveloped. Now it’s possible to offer as wide a range of clothing for men, including seductive and evening wear.”

For Gaultier, there are still taboos to break, but he insists that including a nun-like figure in a recent show wasn’t meant to be aggressive. “It was a symbol of purity,” he said. “Very simple!”

“You’re not being naive?”

He burst out laughing, acknowledged the slightest possibility with a sideways glance, and boomed in English, “I think it’s beautiful!”

Fashion editors call his clothes closet classics. The drama and flashy energy of his shows often hide their foundation in expert coat and jacket tailoring, but his creative mind can’t leave them at that. He applies the imaging and technical advances from sportswear, uses attention-grabbing techniques like those for rock musicians, and transfers finishes from one field to another—distressing fabrics as furniture makers do to add a worn look instead of shine. Then he shares his ideas directly with the youth, expanding fashion’s reach into areas other designers can’t touch. He picks up on street fashion and elevates it to a level the street aspires to but can’t afford.

The broader fashion industry is fascinated, but Gaultier may never become a billionaire like Ralph Lauren or Calvin Klein. Still, in a world of recycled ideas, Jean Paul’s originality is a valuable asset. A eager market has learned to seize the abundance of ideas he casually scatters throughout his shows. Many, he says, came to him on the streets of London and Paris.

But Jean Paul can no longer ride the metro without being swarmed by fans, all wanting something from him—conversation, work, inspiration, or to model in his shows. Now he travels by car or half-runs, waving, grinning, shouting “Hello!” but speeding up until he outpaces even his most persistent admirers in his long-striding DM boots.

“Fashion has split into many different directions, so it’s important to watch what’s happening. The goal used to be dressing a certain social class and making the poor look rich. Now fashion adapts to reality. Different sociocultural groups have their own lifestyles, their own food, their own decor. For each group, there’s a designer.”

Now that no TV fashion event, AIDS fundraiser, or international fashion gathering seems complete without the magnetic presence of Gaultier, I asked if his cult success had distanced him from the street.

“I do have to keep my—””Eyes and ears open,” he admitted. “I don’t need to be an artist; I need to be an observer, reflecting what I see around me.”

One of his recent collections drew inspiration from Barbès, a vibrant mix of North African, Caribbean, and Oriental cultures in the immigrant-heavy 18th arrondissement. “We all wear American jeans and buy Chinese takeout. Food tells the whole story,” Gaultier added, emphasizing his words with flat-handed Egyptian gestures. “Nouvelle cuisine—why? Japanese, Cajun, Mexican—everyone can explain why!”

His own diet remains steadfastly French, featuring his favorite dishes like brains and horse meat that his mother used to cook for family meals in the Paris suburb of Arcueil. But life is too chaotic for him to take anything too seriously—even cooking. Tonight, he’ll return to his house on a back street in Pigalle, where Madonna stays when she drops out of sight. Behind a gate and a garden, he’ll lie in a bedroom that successive cleaners have refused to enter, restlessly switching between four TVs with the remote, fast-forwarding through love scenes on his VCR—”They’re so slow; they should speed them up!”—and flipping through the piles of international magazines covering the floor.

“Nobody is allowed to throw anything away,” Gaultier said. “It’s gotten so bad I can’t walk from the door to the bed anymore. I have to run down the corridor and jump!”

There’s a gym, but no one can find a trainer with a strong enough personality to make Gaultier exercise. A pearlized blue 1950s Formica table and chairs sit upside down in the hall, bought in Miami and shipped over, though he now doubts they fit the decor—or lack thereof. Everything is in a constant state of flux. The death of his partner, Francis Menuge, has left a void in his life, but his lively, boisterous personality remains undiminished.

He published his life story, A nous deux la mode, largely to avoid recounting it in every interview. Modeled after the cheap photo-romances French teenagers buy at station kiosks, it’s a lighthearted journey through a suburban boy’s life, a tale of a love affair between a boy and fashion. It’s also the least pompous and most entertaining press biography ever produced. The glossy cover shows a blue-eyed, innocent Jean Paul, plucked, shaved, powdered, and lipsticked, with jug-handle ears at right angles to his spiky post-punk flattop, surrounded by a misty circle of flowers.

Dear Reader, your heart will ache for the fashion-obsessed boy whose father wanted him to be a teacher, thrill to see him employed on his eighteenth birthday by none other than Pierre Cardin, and sorrow for the twenty-four-year-old virtuoso whose first independent collection drew an audience of just sixteen. It tells you almost everything you want to know, though not about Jean Paul’s nervous breakdown nor Francis’s death. Carefully chosen actors portray his family members: his mother, serving brains and horse steaks while wearing her indoor uniform of a blouse and slip, and his accountant father, shouting “Grotesque!” through his bristling mustache at his son’s perceived failings. We pity the teddy bear he altered with breasts, hair dye, and lipstick, and warm to Mamie, the beloved grandmother who sheltered him when he skipped school and taught him fortune-telling and hairdressing.

“I loved my blazer and my anorak,” Jean Paul recalled, turning the page where, as a nine-year-old schoolboy, he told his classmates, “One could put up with the teacher if only she were better dressed.”

“But I adored my communion robe, all in white.” He let out such a loud, explosive laugh that all voices in the adjoining office suddenly fell silent. “It was my very first dress!”

Much has changed since then. The final pages document an eAs the collection ended, a flurry of hugs and congratulations swept through for Gaultier the showman. Yet Gaultier the designer and businessman now spends much of the year traveling between Milan, Paris, and Tokyo, where his primary partner remains his original supporter, Kashiyama.

Suddenly, a bell rang, and we both looked around. Gaultier began slapping his wrist frantically, as if swarmed by gnats. It was an alarm on his oversized watch, and he couldn’t figure out how to turn it off. As he fumbled with the buttons, the studio buzzed with activity: a film star called person-to-person from a phone booth, a TV company sent a messenger announcing they were ready to film in the shop, urgent faxes arrived from Japan and Italy, and an assistant alerted him that two fans, dressed to impress, were lingering outside, hoping to be discovered.

He jumped up, his chair scraping and papers tumbling to the floor. With a charming farewell, he dashed out, making the whole office shake as he thundered down the stairs three at a time.

Frequently Asked Questions
Of course Here is a list of helpful and concise FAQs about From the Archives Vogues 1991 Visit with Jean Paul Gaultier the Maestro of Mayhem

General Beginner Questions

Q What is this From the Archives piece about
A Its a look back at a 1991 Vogue magazine feature where a journalist visited the famous fashion designer Jean Paul Gaultier in his Paris studio to see his creative process up close

Q Why was Jean Paul Gaultier called the Maestro of Mayhem
A He earned this nickname because his designs were famously rebellious unconventional and playful often challenging traditional fashion rulescreating beautiful mayhem

Q Im not a fashion expert Will I still find this interesting
A Absolutely Its a fascinating glimpse into the mind of a creative genius and a specific moment in pop culture history not just a dry fashion article

Q What are some of Jean Paul Gaultiers most famous designs
A He is most famous for creating the iconic conical bra for Madonnas 1990 Blond Ambition Tour as well as popularizing the sailor stripe shirt as a highfashion item

Deeper Dive Contextual Questions

Q What was the fashion landscape like in 1991 when this visit happened
A The early 90s was a time of contrast High fashion was moving away from the big shoulders and glamour of the 80s and Gaultier was at the forefront mixing high and low culture celebrating individuality and playing with gender norms

Q What made this Vogue visit so significant or memorable
A It captured Gaultier at a pivotal peak in his career right after the global sensation of Madonnas tour It gave readers an intimate behindthescenes look at his chaotic and inspiring studio before such access was common

Q How did Gaultiers work challenge traditional gender roles in fashion
A He famously put men in skirts and used masculine fabrics for feminine designs blurring the lines and arguing that clothing has no gender

Q What is Gaultiers design philosophy as seen in this archive piece