Executive Deputy Editor-in-Chief & Fashion Director, T Magazine China; Stylist. Beijing
As you can probably imagine, when trying to convince complete strangers via phone and e-mail (and occasionally DM—no shame, guys, no shame) that yes, they resoundingly should let you into their homes for a few hours to scrounge through their belongings, some level of composure or even sangfroid is required. You only really want to let them in on the real you (JK!) once you've rifled through their awkwardly discovered stash of vibrators and hallucinogens (not naming names), y'know? Okay, so we digress. But for every thoroughly-proofread email we hit 'send' on, there's a handful of Coveteur shoots that happen by way of flurry of emoji-laden iMessages ("we. need. to. shoot. her. CLOSET!") over a gilded Peking Duck dinner some 6,000 miles across the world. Like with T Magazine China's EIC and Fashion Director, Lucia Liu. We'll rewind a little bit. While in Beijing as part and parcel of W Hotels' CFDA Incubator program (we've been documenting the whole thing on their Tumblr, BTW) with Cov-alum Misha Nonoo, Liu swung by a dinner thrown to celebrate the designer's arrival. Cue one opportune seating arrangement later and we were WeChat-ting (it's a thing, guys) with Liu to arrange a shoot at her studio. Yeah, we move fast. Following an afternoon exploring the city's Summer Palace, we (Nonoo gamely came along for the voyeuristic ride) rolled up to Liu's place to be greeted by her army of assistants, two white Airedale Terriers and rolling racks on rolling racks of goods. The holy-sh*t-how-is-she-so-cool vibes were strong—we mean, have you seen a street style shot of the girl? You can almost always find her in some head-to-toe amalgamation of Peter Pilotto/Miu Miu/Christopher Kane that quite literally no one else could pull off with the same aplomb—the aforementioned basically sums up our finds that evening. The real fun, though, came a few nights later when we joined Liu for drinks at speakeasy Janes and Hooch, after which we all went for some early morning karaoke—fuelled by champagne and French fries, natch. Girl can sing—we'll leave it at that.