Here is international designer (we’ll be the judge of that going on the state of the tattoos alone!) Marc Jacobs, who we have never seen with his shirt on. Ever.
He is the new creative director of Diet Coke, which is nice work if you can get it. Imagine his day:
Gets into office. Takes shirt off. Has a Diet Coke. Goes on Grindr. Opens an email. Deletes it. Sips Diet Coke. Asks someone – actually asks everyone – if they can believe he’s nearly 50. Yes! 50! Yes! 50! Has a top level meeting where no one is quite sure what the top level meeting is about as there is actually nothing to creatively direct in a Diet Coke. Comes out of meeting fuming because no one – NO ONE – understands what it’s like to be creative in this commercial world of soft drinks. Picks up cheque. Leaves half-empty Diet Coke can for some poor little intern to find somewhere to pour the remains away and dispose of the tin. Puts on shirt. Takes shirt back off. Leaves.
Another busy day at the orifice for Mr. Jacobs. His car better be waiting or there will be someone else with a brand new arsehole ripped for them.
'I think it's hysterical people want me to take my shirt off,' says serial-shirt-taker-offer Marc Jacobs,