a
Nicky Haslam
Nicky Haslam is the 60+, botox injected, plastic surgery enhanced, supertanned, trainer sporting, bling bling flaunting London celebrity columnist and interior decorator to the stars.
There are no shortage of Haslam knockers. Their objections being that he dresses up too much for someone of his advancing years, and that he's rich/stuck up. Dispensing with the latter: He's worked like a fucker for years, so is he supposed to pretend to be poor?
More curious is the former style-related criticism. In a culture which encourages terminal adolescence, it's puzzling to hear some Star Wars loving 30-year-old admonishing Mr Haslam for seeking eternal youth. In case you're a stranger to the cult of Haslam, here are some of his antics thus far: He helped kick off the early 60s English youthquake invasion of NYC, with his friends David Bailey and Jean Shrimpton; he starred in Andy Warhol's film, Kiss; he assisted legendary fashion editor Diane Vreeland: he art directed the US style magazine, Show; he is mates with the Rolling Stones, the Beatles etc, and hob-nobbed with Cole Porter, Lena Horner and Duke Ellington; he thereafter professionally interior decorated the abodes of Rod Stewart, Bryan Ferry, the Princess of Wales, Natalie Wood, Rupert Everett - and continues to makeover the homes of a host of other celebs. Today he's probably most widely known for his celeb party columns in various newspapers.
But in recent times, Nicky Haslam - all 60-odd, botox-injected, plastic surgery enhanced, hair dyed, fun-packed years of him - has become a special sort of London legend. It can be said that any high profile launch do cannot justify its existence unless Haslam is there.
In his favourite restaurant, L'incontro, near Sloane Square, Haslam puffs endless Marlboro Lights and sups mineral water. He's very friendly and is dressed like a teenager (hoody, customised T-shirt, baggy jeans and trainers) but Nicky, who admits his worst habit is "wanking" - doesn't give a toss if you don't like his togs. "People have said ‘you look simply ghastly’” he confirms, "but I think they do, so I don't care a bit."
And, it seems, Mr Wonderwall did play a major part in his transformation after all; "Liam's amazing looking!" he says. "I love his mad hair! He's almost my hero... [Sleaze goes to the toilet, returning several minutes later] I like Liam's bad manners. I love everything about him. I saw him in Paris the other day and he said "You don't look like me at all anymore. Start dressing like me again! He was so sweet.”
To dispel a few myths, his closest friends are "not celebrities"; he doesn't spend loads on designer clothes - preferring "whizzing around Hennes and Top Man and car boot sales."
But how can he be arsed to go out so much of an evening? "I don't go out as much as it looks" he confesses, controversially. "I often just get sent stuff from the PRs and write it up as though I was there.” As our meeting with the almost Warholian character comes to a close, we ask for a few Haslam fact-ettes! He has some Anchor butter, plus a jar of jam (made by Mick Jagger) in his fridge; he uses public transport by day and a blue Jaguar (with driver) by night; he has crushes on Roland Mouret and Kate Moss. He recommends never exercising its such a bore. Smoke a lot. Don't drink at lunch, but make up for it in the evening, Dont drink wine, drink spirits - gIn, vodka, or champagne." And when he gets older, rather than the proverbial pipe and slippers, he envisages "cigarettes and dancing shoes.”
The story goes that, back in the mid 90s, Nicky Haslam saw a picture of Liam Gallagher and - despite being some thirty years his elder - decided he wanted to look like that too. A trip to the plastic surgeon duly followed. "It's partly true, he twinkles. "I was having dinner with Charles Saatchi and he said 'Really, you look so awful! Get it together and go to Comme des Garçons" Was he offended? "Oh no, I thought ‘he's right.’ So I got some younger clothes; the kids in my office had stubble, so I copied; then the hair got darker..."
There are no shortage of Haslam knockers. Their objections being that he dresses up too much for someone of his advancing years, and that he's rich/stuck up. Dispensing with the latter: He's worked like a fucker for years, so is he supposed to pretend to be poor?
More curious is the former style-related criticism. In a culture which encourages terminal adolescence, it's puzzling to hear some Star Wars loving 30-year-old admonishing Mr Haslam for seeking eternal youth. In case you're a stranger to the cult of Haslam, here are some of his antics thus far: He helped kick off the early 60s English youthquake invasion of NYC, with his friends David Bailey and Jean Shrimpton; he starred in Andy Warhol's film, Kiss; he assisted legendary fashion editor Diane Vreeland: he art directed the US style magazine, Show; he is mates with the Rolling Stones, the Beatles etc, and hob-nobbed with Cole Porter, Lena Horner and Duke Ellington; he thereafter professionally interior decorated the abodes of Rod Stewart, Bryan Ferry, the Princess of Wales, Natalie Wood, Rupert Everett - and continues to makeover the homes of a host of other celebs. Today he's probably most widely known for his celeb party columns in various newspapers.
But in recent times, Nicky Haslam - all 60-odd, botox-injected, plastic surgery enhanced, hair dyed, fun-packed years of him - has become a special sort of London legend. It can be said that any high profile launch do cannot justify its existence unless Haslam is there.
In his favourite restaurant, L'incontro, near Sloane Square, Haslam puffs endless Marlboro Lights and sups mineral water. He's very friendly and is dressed like a teenager (hoody, customised T-shirt, baggy jeans and trainers) but Nicky, who admits his worst habit is "wanking" - doesn't give a toss if you don't like his togs. "People have said ‘you look simply ghastly’” he confirms, "but I think they do, so I don't care a bit."
And, it seems, Mr Wonderwall did play a major part in his transformation after all; "Liam's amazing looking!" he says. "I love his mad hair! He's almost my hero... [Sleaze goes to the toilet, returning several minutes later] I like Liam's bad manners. I love everything about him. I saw him in Paris the other day and he said "You don't look like me at all anymore. Start dressing like me again! He was so sweet.”
To dispel a few myths, his closest friends are "not celebrities"; he doesn't spend loads on designer clothes - preferring "whizzing around Hennes and Top Man and car boot sales."
But how can he be arsed to go out so much of an evening? "I don't go out as much as it looks" he confesses, controversially. "I often just get sent stuff from the PRs and write it up as though I was there.” As our meeting with the almost Warholian character comes to a close, we ask for a few Haslam fact-ettes! He has some Anchor butter, plus a jar of jam (made by Mick Jagger) in his fridge; he uses public transport by day and a blue Jaguar (with driver) by night; he has crushes on Roland Mouret and Kate Moss. He recommends never exercising its such a bore. Smoke a lot. Don't drink at lunch, but make up for it in the evening, Dont drink wine, drink spirits - gIn, vodka, or champagne." And when he gets older, rather than the proverbial pipe and slippers, he envisages "cigarettes and dancing shoes.”