In 2011, I meet Nicolas. We work together, first on graphic design and art direction, then on backstage photography. A studio, friends of friends, a joyful workshop among pals. He from Marseille, me from the North: two worlds meeting. I had barely five or six years in the trade; he had fifteen at the very least. I knew the great names of photography, a few models, but barely one or two hairstylists, apart from those whose name hangs above a salon. Not Nico. We work on his portfolio, and at first I think he is pulling my leg. Then every reference drops, true, one after the other. Hiro. Richard Avedon. Nick Knight. Jeanloup Sieff. Patrick Demarchelier. Naomi Campbell, Claudia Schiffer, Jennifer Lopez.
The hair was him
Those images you only ever see in books and magazines: the hair was him. 350 covers, nearly a hundred for Vogue. The McQueen, Galliano and Gaultier shows. Exhibited at the Carrousel du Louvre, the only hairstylist at the Festival International de la Mode. I was a kid in a toy shop; every meeting, a party. Fifteen years on, I still find it hard to believe, and yet it is true, a little like the ending of Tim Burton's Big Fish. Every page of his story is incredible.
One of my first memories with him: a shoot where a model with straight hair left with an afro. A comb, a brush, hairspray, nothing else, as far as I remember. That is the magazine spread. I had no idea it was even possible. Nicolas is an artist of the shadows. And he is not alone.
A little light in the shadows
Behind every image we remember, there are dozens of hands we never name: hairstylists, make-up artists, retouchers, stylists, assistants, all those who stand just beside the stars, just behind, sometimes crouched in the shadow of the set. Those who make others shine, and whom we forget to credit.
Listening to Nico is learning humility, and respect for craft and know-how. Today we are still close. We attempted a series from his sketches: the drawing laid over the photograph, the craftsman reappearing on the finished image. A way of putting a little light into the shadows. Not only his, but that of all the invisible hands behind other people's beauty.
Adrien
