Disrupting Norms with Veco

November 25, 2021

José Hernandez continues to show the multiplicity of one’s identity. The model and all-around creative, better known as Veco, has shaken up the modeling industry with a bold face disrupting exhausted norms. Associated with a black cowboy hat and “Tio looks,” the electrifying model brings authenticity and a smile to any project.

Veco has worked with Willy Chavarria, Gypsy Sport, and NYX Cosmetics, a side hustle that has blossomed in the last three years. With an extensive resume spanning fashion, beauty, and culture, Veco is far from slowing down with dreams of making his creativity a full-time career. Based in Los Angeles, the rightfully ambitious model takes his South LA roots with him occupying spaces with a narrative of family, identity, and perseverance.

Interview by Michael Hall
Photos by Christian Soria
Styling by César Álvarez
Photo assistance by Evie Series

While sitting down with Veco via video chat, I immediately understand why creatives want to work with him. Poised, cheery, and introspective come through the screen, adding depth to an image that hinges on masculinity and smolder. Connecting to his Instagram bio, “Tio looks with Tia vibes,” Veco speaks in tones that remind you of an aunt or sister. Transcending normative views of expression, the talented model continues to carve out his path in the creative industry.

In an exclusive interview with office, including photos captured by Christian Soria and styling by César Álverez, Veco discusses growth, aspirations, and navigating a new industry.

Thank you for taking the time with me. Where are you right now?

I'm at home. This is not my real background. I had construction going on. I was like, 'I can't let them know that I have a mess back here.' It's not even that bad.

Where's home for you?

In Southgate. I grew up in Huntington Park, which is like, it's all Southeast LA kind of area, my parents still live there like 15 minutes away from me. When I first moved out of my parents, I was living in Koreatown. And then I found a place here in Southgate. So I moved back to South East LA which is funny because I never thought I would be back when I left my parents'. I was like, 'I'm done, I'm outta the hood, I'm in Koreatown now.' I thought I was cool. After a few years, I went back to my parents to save up and then found a place in South Gate. And I actually fell in love with it, and it's everything I could want in a place. So I've been living here for four, I think four years now. I love being close to my family and more so how much work my dad and I have put into this place.

What does a typical day look like for you?

If I'm working, so right now, we're still working remotely, which I love because it allows me to do side projects and shoots and stuff. I take my laptop everywhere. I've always had a nine-to-five job, but my true passion has always been photography and just being creative and modeling. I guess I didn't start modeling or felt that I was capable of modeling in a way until thanks to social media. But like three years ago was maybe when things started like popping off. Honestly, every time people ask me, "how did you start?" a lot of people think that I model full time, and it's like, no, like I do it on the side because it's a side hustle in a way, but it's also a passion of mine. So I wish I could afford to do it full-time. I'm not even signed or anything, but I love creating with other creatives. And I love when people think I'm a full-time model. I'm like, 'no, trust me. I'm not.'

I always credit when people ask me how I started. I always credit Fabian Guerrero, who is a photographer from Texas, well he just moved back. But I basically met him in late 2017, and he reached out; we never met, but just through Instagram, like we followed each other. And he asked me one time, "oh, can I shoot you in your cowboy hat? and I was down for it. He came here to my side of town. I went to Maywood and just walked around, shot outside of a laundry mat, and had tacos after. It was my first time meeting him, but it was so chill and comfortable. And it was great that we were able to connect and vibe off each other, even though he's from Texas with a different upbringing than mine here in LA. I feel like it's a little different, but both being Mexican, I think we found common ground. And since then, we've been friends, and we've collaborated maybe like a total of three or four times. I credit him because since then, once we shot those first few images, they were so simple; it was just me and a cowboy hat and a denim skirt. They just blew up on Instagram, Twitter, and Tumblr at the time when I was still using Tumblr. That's kind of how it started.

After that, more photographers started reaching out, brands, like brands that I would've never imagined that, would even notice me, you know, thanks to Fabian, and things just happened. I always credit him, and I say, like, life is crazy because when I was little, I would say, 'oh my God, I wish I could model or do this and do that.' But I never felt like the look or felt cause I'm short like I'm five, eight. I never thought it would be possible. I think it's the beauty of social media, it makes things happen, and it's opening up doors for people.

Gypsy Sport mascada and underwear, Lick Diablo trousers, HIM NYC shirt

Projects that you've collaborated on with Fabian are so impressionable. Do you have any other favorite collaborations that you've done?

A lot of people resonated with the magic that we created, the photos that we created. So definitely, those are some of my top favorites. Another surreal moment that I think was a favorite of mine was being able to walk for Willy Chavarria in 2019. I felt like a baby, and my walk was not the best. I'll be honest with myself. I was so nervous, and it was my first time going to New York, and I went by myself. Like I didn't, I never even thought I would go to New York, to be honest, but that happened. So that was a highlight and a favorite memory of mine; just because I was, I'm here like walking New York fashion week. I was mind blown that I was even there and meeting these people. I always feel like it's a blessing, and I'm grateful. Even though I've been doing it for like three years now, it still feels new.

Another shoot that I loved was one that I did for Agency Skincare only because I love skincare and to be able to have been used as a model for them, like for their line of new skincare. It was validating to be like, 'oh my God, I can do different things.' I can do a regular shoot and kind of put the masc face on, but then also do a little bit more fem and do beauty products and stuff. I feel like sometimes, in the past, I was super hard on myself. Growing up, I was a chubby kid. So to be modeling or being looked at in essence of like beauty is wild even to this day. I'm like, 'what?' but I'm glad I'm doing it and because it's a passion of mine and fun.

I want to touch on your intentionality behind how you present yourself, balancing masculine and feminine energy. I love your bio, "Tio looks with Tia vibes." I love that. You're pushing against this norm within Latinx culture and households where gender is very binary. When did you become conscious of these intentions and the fluidity of identity?

I think honestly, okay.So to be completely honest, I'm 31 now. I say my age only because it wasn’t until I was in my late 20’s that I began to appreciate and become more confident in my masc/fem qualities. It was then that I became much more intentional in expressing myself. But in a way, I'm grateful that I started in the modeling industry later in my life. Like I said earlier about my age, I was way more self-conscious. I don't think I would be even down to fly to New York and walk a show. You know, I feel like I was way too; I could not put myself to do that. I became a little more intentional with that.
My bio, came up organically only because when I met new friends, they would always kind of tell me, Tia, I would just give off that vibe. I mean, at first, it started with looks because I was; I've always been inspired by my cousins and just photo albums. My mom has a ton of photo albums and, you know, the way that my cousins would dress in high school with their Dodger caps and big puffers. Even just my dad would have his wife beater and slacks to be working in the backyard. And his mustache, I've always kind of admired that. And I think, in a way, I admired that because I was in the closet for a long time, but I always wanted to make them proud and be that kind of figure. But I knew deep inside, like I, it was a shortcoming. I don't feel that way now, but at the time I did, because I was, I'm the only boy in my family. So I felt like, not a disappointment, but in a way. My parents probably wanted me to walk these steps that my cousins have, my parents, and my uncles have.

So the looks I do, a lot of my references come from that. And then the vibes come from when I open my mouth and the way I just talk to people, I think it's because of my upbringing. I was raised by women, you know? And they're older; my parents are 70 something. So like my humor and how I relate to people, I feel like it's them in a way. And that's why my bio is that because I feel like that's all that I am. I can be masc looking when I want, but I can also work off my fem-like qualities that I maybe would've shied away from before and now I'm embracing. So it's definitely intentional. And I think that’s important in this day and age. Visibility and to be able to inspire those that might feel the same.

Your modeling career has grown tremendously within the last few years. Although we're in an age where inclusivity and diversity are appreciated, the creative industry still doesn't hold itself to that standard. Have there ever been moments where spaces have felt minimizing or made you feel tokenized?

It's funny that you touch on that because I feel lately I've kind of felt that way. I feel like people liked my look because I had a mustache, and it was really thick. And then one time, I kind of not related, but kind of in a way, like the fetishization, I shaved it, and they didn't want to book me because I didn't have a mustache. And I was kind of like 'I mean, it, that's not all I am,' I love to model, you know, yes, the mustache, I love it. And it was my look, but I think I got tired of it, that's just what they want. It's kinda like a fetish.

I kind of wanted to move away from that. It sucks that then it would take away jobs. In terms of navigating, I would say the fashion industry, for the most part, I think, and maybe it's just because I'm so excited to be involved with it; it hasn't been as negative as people would think it. I do see that brands are highlighting more of these groups of people. But at the same time, I sometimes feel these brands, they'll choose models to work with that are from these kinds of communities, but then the clothes that they are selling to their target audience is such a high price, I don't know anyone personally like I'm not gonna spend $300 on sweatpants. Maybe that's my mom and dad talking through me, but it's like you're targeting this kind look, you know, cholo and hood luxury and stuff. It's almost unattainable to me. Are they also like getting compensated fairly?

I feel like it's more intentional as far as the projects that I say yes to, because I'm like, well, I think we live in a society now that where you have to be aware, it's like read the room. Are you just using these people for hype, or are you actually, what are you giving back to the community. I mean, one time, I did experience that in a way about compensation because I was told I was gonna get this rate, and I wasn't. They didn't pay me what they said they were gonna pay me. And I just went home, and I was still happy. Maybe that's not the smartest thing, but that's just cause I have fun. Like I love it. It doesn't feel like a job to me, but it does suck. And I'm probably not helping because I didn't stand up for myself. But it just sucks for other people, for me to think that they're going through the same thing and we're just getting low balled basically, yet you are making money off of us, but you're not giving back to the community.

banzo bermudas

I definitely understand what you're saying. Although the culture within these spaces and the industry seems like it's shifting, there are still these questions: Are the people on the crew reflecting the talent? Are they reflecting the consumer? I feel that a hundred percent. I want to talk about your connections in Los Angeles and the roots you've created. A collaborator you work with is Los Angeles-based creative Cesar Alvarez, founder of Tótem Magazine. Can you speak to that relationship and your contributions to their latest project, Tótem TV, in partnership with Vans Channel66?

We met a few years ago; he actually reached out because he wanted to feature me. We had not met. We just followed each other on Instagram. He's like, 'oh, I wanna feature you for Tótem's September issue.' And I was so excited cuz September's my birthday month. So I was like, 'oh my God. Even better.' So we met, and we discussed a little bit of his idea for the shoot. He told me about the photography and who he was looking to work with, which was Clifford Prince King. So we met with Clifford, and then we shot a few days later. Since then, we've been just doing little side gigs together. He's so sweet.

He's from Mexico City. And when I met him, I felt like he reminded me of my cousins from Mexico, honestly. Since then, we've been friends, and probably because I'm loud and crazy or whatever, he asked me to be a part of Tótem TV for Vans Channel66. I was like, 'obviously,' I said yes. I trust him for everything. I'm like, 'listen, I trust you. Like with whatever, I'll ride or die.' We've been doing that since I think it's, we did six shows. I only did. I think four, only because two of them were in New York and I wasn't going to go.

That's a great platform; I think more so for an artist because we invite different creatives and always have a DJ there. We have designers, creative influencers and just highlight different groups of creatives and give them a platform to reach a different audience. It's almost like a little talk show, and we ask our questions. Vans literally gave us a platform that you can do whatever you want—we just kind of love to talk to people and get to know other creatives. Tótem wants to create a community, so I think it's great to be able to bring all these kinds of different people into our space and share their stories and highlight them.

Are there any dream collaborations you have or any dreams about the future in particular?

Oh my gosh, well, since I was little, now that I'm modeling, I can kind of scratch that in a way. I would love to; I've always wanted to cover celebrity news, like a host kind of thing, which is funny because yesterday at Vans Channel66, I wanted to be a co-host, and I guess I'm doing it in a sense. I would love to do that or like a fashion kind of correspondence. I feel like that would be so fun. Either if it's in, in Mexico or any, like in Spanish, I'd be so down.

I also would love to hopefully even do work with movement, like art direction for movement, music videos. I feel like that'd be cool. Just to be on set and not even be the one in front of the camera. Like I just love to be there and just take everything in. So I think to direct somebody or direct a shoot would be something amazing that hopefully will happen in the future.

You're taking the industry by storm, so those dreams seem very realistic. Is there any advice you'd give to an aspiring model or creative who has a similar background or may think it's too late for them to pursue creative projects?

I feel like I was never the most confident person. I think later in my years; I grew that confidence. Dealing with life and putting yourself first. I think you should always want the best for yourself. Sometimes we forget because we give so much of ourselves to other people that we forget about ourselves. I think just always putting yourself first and trusting in your gut, and just being open to opportunities. I feel like sometimes we get in our head and we feel that we're not good enough right away, and so we just close off any kind of, even if there's like a slight interest and someone wants your input on something, and you're too scared to even just like open your mouth and share your ideas.

We all have a special something in us and own it and be confident in that. To me, it was like being confident with who I was as a person—the balance of being femme and masc, like carrying those and walking with my head up high. I feel like there's magic in that, and people will see that and resonate.

banzo bermudas, nike shoes, Gypsy Sport mascada, HIM NYC shirt

That was very inspiring. Before we end, I want to talk about the beautiful images taken by Christian Soria and styled by Cesar Alvarez. In a few of the pictures, there are religious aspects, including a cross. In Latinx culture, Catholicism is very prevalent and has a massive influence on how one's raised. Can you speak to your experience with the church and how you explored your identity, like how you talked about coming out later in life and balancing expectations?

I love the photos too because of the whole, like the cross and the religious aspect. I also think my style, in a way, sometimes is influenced by growing up in a Catholic household. My parents, like I said, my parents are in their 70s, so they had me; they were like 40. They've always been involved in the church. Like, honestly, I could get married if I want to, like, I already had my confirmation done.

When I turned 18, my mom let me kind of do my own thing and didn't push me to go to church. I mean, she would say little side comments, as you know, they always do, but you just kind of shrug it off, ignore it. My style, I kind of like Catholic schoolboy looks, I'm influenced by a lot, but growing up, that's why I think I came out so late because I didn't wanna be a disappointment to my family. It didn't help that when I, where I grew up, literally the street where I grew up, all my mom's side of the family lives on that street, like, my Tia is across the street. My cousin Ruby is two houses down. My Tio is three houses down like my other cousin's on the corner. I felt like I couldn't come out because there's no way; everyone's gonna know, the whole block is gonna be like, 'oh, you know, there's the gay boy.' Yeah. So I just couldn't come out. I had friends that knew of my identity. I had a journal that I would write things in. My sister found my journal, and she called me asking, 'Veco, who is this guy's name that you write here?', then I told her I'm gay.

There was a Sunday with my mom, she was like, 'Oh, I'm gonna take you to church with me because I don't believe, if you say you're gonna go by yourself, you're not gonna go' which was true. So we're driving, and I told my sister, Julie, before we left, I was like, 'I'm gonna come out.' Finally, we're turning into the parking lot. And I asked her, 'why are the views in religion of the gay community so awful?Like people claim that gay people are gonna go to hell.' She's like, 'well, what does it matter? Who's gay?' I told her me, and she was shocked to say the least. Honestly, my mom and me, like after I came out, we had a horrible time, which is why I moved out to Koreatown. I was scared to come out to my dad, and my dad was like the opposite of my mom. It did take a strain on our relationship and my family. I feel like for a while; I felt like I lost a lot of time. It's been ten years later, and it took literally like she just came around, probably like last year.

It was very stressful, and I think that's why in a way, it was weird to me to kind of like when Fabian reached out, and things started happening, something that I only dreamed of as a kid, and for people to hype me up or resonate with me in a way. Sometimes I think deep down. It's almost like I don't feel worthy. I'm always so grateful for every opportunity because I know they can choose anybody else. And I love what I do. I think it's an amazing experience. And I always say life is crazy because I would've never imagined where I'd be right now and be able to meet these people and be in this kind of room. Even when I did the Gypsy Sports show, I told like Rio, the designer, I was like, 'this is like, I'm reclaiming my time.' Because when I walked in New York fashion week for Willy, I hated my walk. But when I was in the Gypsy show, like even being backstage, this model looked at me, and I was like, 'oh my God, you're always just smiling when I look at you.' But it's like, I'm just grateful to even be in that space with everybody else. I feel like I'm worthy, you know? Even though I tell myself that and I'm confident even more than I was ten years ago. It's a beautiful feeling, like wow, I'm worthy of being here.

Culture

Mowalola x Miss Sixty Launch with H. Lorenzo

I swing my legs over the ropes that guard the VIP entrance. Always over (I’m 5’10), never under. I’m late to the H. Lorenzo x Mowalola event, and the line is wrapped around the block. I don’t want to be an asshole, but I hate waiting in lines; it just ruins everything.

“Hey, my friend is DJing right now. My name should be down,” I say.

The youngish security guard looks me up and down. I have made an adventurous choice for this type of crowd. Neon pink hoodie, bright orange vest, my Raimundo jeans, and Jeremy Scott animal print sneakers. I let him take me in and look over his shoulder. Hmmm… I will be swathed in darkness when he lets me in. Dark night, dark clothes, dark makeup, furs, hoods, leather accessories, and sunglasses. I don’t recognize anyone, but it’s hard to tell who anyone is because I can’t see after 8 pm without my glasses. Night blindness. I can still catch a vibe though.

“She’s in the bathroom,” Mr. Guard says, interrupting my squinting.

“Who?,” I ask.

“The woman in charge of the list.”

That’s a drag. I want to dance. Lately, I am going out in the name of music.

“So…can I go in?” I ask.

“Just wait for her to get back.”

That sounded fine. I wait. The outdoor smoking area is packed. I imagine the inside to be a mirror of this, hopefully with people dancing instead of blowing smoke in each other’s eyes.

“You got instagram?” The guard asks me after about ten minutes of flirting.

“Can I go in?” I said.

He laughs. He lets me in the event without a wristband.

Inside, I understand why the other guard was gone for so long. I made a mental note to not drink too much liquid, the bathroom line is almost as long as the line outside. The party is popping, far from a flop.

I push through the crowd solo, following the speakers to the DJ booth. The immersive visuals provided me with enough light to make out Mowalola in a gold bikini and her low rise denim. My pulse races like the horse printed on the front of her coochie. That’s the point of the collection, obviously.

My hips swing around before I head towards the open bar. I smile to myself, noting that it’s a mezcal forward menu. I see a drink that disgusts me so I order it without hesitation. It’s a mezcal coffee concoction. My heart ’s ran through already, why not go all in? I head back to dance when I hear Shigecki’s set start. I’m jumping around, sweating, and when I pause for a beat I let out a yelp. There are strippers working poles opposite and behind the DJ booth. Good. Events should be sexy.

I end the night smoking my friend’s Korean strawberry cigarettes taking in the air of cool- when a man comes up to me wild-eyed exclaiming that we look just like one another. I look at him- no, not at all. I turn slowly, remembering what I should be doing: listening to DJ G2G’s set. Back inside, she is playing reggaeton type beats with lasers beaming out of her headphones (I want these). A rave in it of herself.

Too bad all the events end at 2 am in LA.

Culture

Vans Pipe Masters 2024

On the first night, Steve Van Doren and the Vans team hosted the heat draw for the competitors at a casual backyard barbecue. The son of Vans’ co-founder Paul Van Doren, Steve has worked in the family business for decades, and is now known as the Ambassador of Fun. Wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a cowboy hat made out of old shoes, he was definitely dressed for the part. The surfers, along with family and friends gathered in a relaxed setting as 40 men’s and 20 women’s names were drawn from a shoebox. The competition would run in 3 rounds, the top 4 men and 4 women with the highest scores moving onto the finals. When asked about their strategies, most gave answers along the lines of “get waves.” Refreshingly simple.

After waiting a few days for favorable conditions, the first day of competition kicked off with Women’s Round 1. It was finally time to see Pipeline in action. Banzai Pipeline is known as one of the most dangerous places to surf due to the powerful waves breaking over shallow and sharp reefs. With the potential to crash into the rocky edges or have leashes caught in caves, it takes a ton of skill–-and even more courage–to surf here. No stranger to these risks, the first heat included favorites Caity Simmers and “Queen of Pipeline” Moana Jones Wong, who showed off exactly why they’d been successful here in the past. Midway through the heats, Mother Nature decided to throw in another element as a light drizzle turned into a proper downpour. Rain or shine, the athletes went out unfazed, focused on getting their first points on the board.

After another short day’s break, the competition continued with the women’s second round and the men’s first. The beach was filled with spectators, locals and tourists alike, as the competition was free for all to attend. While fans rooted equally for the women and men, the most popular were the local Hawaiian athletes, which made up about half the competition. The women started off the day again, hyping up the crowd with incredible rides. One ride by Bettylou Sakura Johnson earned the first Bag of Cash of the day– a cash prize (of undisclosed amount) awarded in a brown paper bag to any surfer that pulls off a wow moment, excites the crowd, and pulls off something spectacular regardless of what the conditions might look like.

Winds picked up as the men’s competition began and two strategies quickly emerged: an aggressive approach, targeting any decent waves to build small scores; and a patient approach, waiting for the perfect wave to chase a high single score. Even the waves that were unrideable were a spectacle in itself. The sheer size, illustrated by the length of surfboards riding up and over, and the following crash of white water spray was hypnotizing. Then imagining having to experience it out on the water, duck diving under or being lifted over, brought a renewed respect for the surfers.

After watching these early rounds, it was time for office to head back to the cold. With the competition officially spanning from December 8-20, it seemed the forecast was gearing up for some massive waves— and it didn’t disappoint. Following from afar through Vans’ Instagram and live updates, we saw the full extent of what it means to surf at Pipeline. After a series of electrifying and daring surfs, the 2024 winners were crowned: Erin Brooks and Nathan Florence.

The thrill of watching top athletes compete at the highest level of their sport, even remotely, never fails to inspire. Few sports surrender so completely to the forces of nature as surfing does. And at its core, surfing is all about having a deep respect for the ocean—its unpredictable whims, its immense power, and its ever-changing moods.

Culture

The Cost of Queendom

December 17, 2024

One summer afternoon in New York, a few days after their New York premiere of the acclaimed documentary Queendom, office met up with documentary filmmaker Agniia Galdanova and producer Igor Myakotin at a tattoo parlor on the west side of Manhattan. While Agniia received a tattoo of the portmanteau “DOCU CUNT” across her fists, she — unfazed by the needle on her knuckles — answered our questions alongside Igor about the making of the stirring story that has traveled around the world.

One of the opening scenes of Queendom depicts a ritual many of us are all too familiar with in the 21st century. Jenna Marvin, the documentary film’s central subject, takes her friend along with her to take photos for Instagram. When she finds a suitable backdrop, she poses, poses, poses, and then reviews the photos. Dissatisfied, she gives her notes, and then returns to pose, pose, pose again.

By Brook Aster
Photos by Liv Solomon

The ritual may be familiar, but nothing else about the scene — from its setting to its stakes — is ordinary. The backdrop behind Jenna is a sweeping expanse of ice and snow in a small Russian port town called Magadan. Jenna is dressed in drag, but not drag of the Rupaul’s Drag Race variety; her drag has been referred to as “creature drag.” Her signature white face paint, platform heels and surrealist costumes, with their exaggerated sculptural proportions and use of duct tape and repurposed items, catches the ire of her neighbors and the love of online admirers alike. Jenna eventually accrued a following on social media for her public and technically illegal drag performances, which often involved little more than her walking or being in public spaces but nevertheless were often met with abuse and threats of imprisonment.

But when Agniia first encountered Jenna, she hadn’t yet reached the level of virality that would eventually come in the years to follow. The filmmaker was researching different drag performers in Russia for her sophomore project, which she thought would be a docuseries, when she heard from a friend about a young drag queen from Magadan. “I was like, this is impossible. I have to meet this person,” Agniia remembers. “And I could not actually go meet her because I was in Moscow and she was in Saint Petersburg, so I sent a friend of mine with whom I’d been studying with in film school, and she went and filmed the sample.” The simple video, showing Jenna and her friend getting dressed up for a party, struck something in Agniia. The drag was an earlier, more prototypical version of the style Jenna is now known for; less duct tape and ornamentation, but still that signature striking makeup. “Something sparked. I knew I just had to stick to this feeling,” Agniia says. She decided to turn the docuseries into a documentary solely focused on Jenna.

Around that time, the entire world came to a grinding halt: the onset of COVID-19 pandemic had just led to lockdowns around the globe. With only a couple thousand followers on social media at that point in time, Jenna had tried to branch out and connect with other drag artists in Moscow and Saint Petersburg, but faced rejection; her drag was extremely unconventional, and not even other drag artists quite understood it. “I think we found each other at the right moment, because nobody knew what to do, how to cope with all this,” Agniia says. “Jenna was saying that she was lost, and she also didn't know how to develop her art next.”

Unlike some of the other artists Agniia had initially researched, Jenna didn’t need much convincing to allow the camera into her life. “[Especially] after COVID came, there wasn't really [any] drag in my life,” Jenna recounts when I speak to her later over Zoom. “I realized that what drag is for me is not just a costume, a dress, something that you leave, that you take off and then in the dead of the night you put back on. Later, I understood that this is who I am, that I am art and I am drag, and that this is way bigger and more important than just clothing or costume.”

[LEFT TO RIGHT: Agniia Galdanova, Jenna Marvin, Igor Myakotin]

When it came time to move into production stages, Agniia sent a clip to Igor, who had been referred to her by a past colleague. When Igor saw the footage, he was similarly struck by Jenna — and even more struck to find out she shared his small hometown of Magadan. “It was just so fateful to know that I also come from this town, and I've never seen it through this cinematic lens, through the vision that Agniia has,” he says. “I was mesmerized by the footage, mesmerized by Jenna. I thought to myself, I have to do everything I can [for us] to work together, whatever the collaboration is gonna be.”

The two followed Jenna for over three years; Agniia first relocated to St. Petersburg, where Jenna had taken up residence after leaving her grandparents’ home in Magadan, and later Jenna moved in with Agniia in her home in Moscow. All the while, Igor and his team worked remotely from the United States to meet Agniia’s production needs. Inevitably, with all their time spent together, Agniia and Jenna became close.

“There is an unspoken rule in documentary filmmaking that you have to keep this line, and you can’t overcome certain boundaries,” Agniia explains. “In my first film, it was not an easy subject [to do this with] as well. I was following a family for seven months, and [we became] close, but I always was trying to keep my distance, and was constantly thinking about it. How much should I say? How much should I give?” But as she got to know Jenna, it became clear that this time, that distance wouldn’t be possible. “With Jenna almost from the very beginning, I was like, fuck it. That’s not going to work with this one. I'm going to break this rule 100%. I never regretted it, because that's actually what built up the trust that is there.”

As Jenna's public performances continued and began to garner more public attention, her online audience multiplied. Among her virtual admirers was French fashion maven Michèle Lamy, who would eventually sign onto Queendom as an executive producer. Lamy's discovery of Jenna led to an invitation to walk in the Rick Owens show in Paris — her first time modeling, and her first time leaving Russia in her life. Of course, Agniia and her camera followed. But most of their excursions were not so glamorous; many of Jenna's performances shown in the documentary were undertaken at a real risk to her physical safety, and by extension, to the safety of Agniia. But neither of them were daunted.

I remember who I am. And this is what carries me through this life.

After all, Jenna was used to both taking risks and documenting them well before she was the subject of a film; she and her friends long filmed the often impassioned, sometimes violent reactions of strangers and policemen to their mere existence in public spaces in drag. And after a protest performance in which she wrapped herself in the Russian flag, Jenna was kicked out of beauty school, her last attempt at a practical route before pursuing her drag as a full time venture.

The only time Agniia tried to dissuade her was on Paratrooper’s Day, a Russian military holiday often characterized by the drunk soldiers roaming the streets. The risk for violence was especially high. “On Paratroopers Day, people say you can't come out in skinny jeans or with nail polish,” Jenna describes. “[I think] you should do the opposite. You should really make a statement and come out wearing what you want to wear. I think that clothes, what we wear, is really at some point beyond our psyche, our mind, our understanding. It is as if it's a certain kind of spice that is enticing you and you follow the scent of that spice and you don't see anything else except that scent and you follow it. That's how I see it.”

“I was like, ‘girl, maybe we should not do that,’” Agniia says. “Igor was stressing out and she told us, ‘well, you don't need to follow me. I'm gonna go and do it. I don't care if you're coming or not.’” In the end, Jenna ventured out for her performance anyway, protesting the then-recent invasion of Ukraine. Agniia followed. Not shown in the film is that the two were arrested, and managed to talk the police out of their arrest.

Not too long after, she would have to leave Russia again, this time moving for Paris for good; the film follows her struggles to get a visa in time to leave the country after the onset of the war. “It's already been three years that I've been in France, and it is important for me to understand and remember who I am, and to remember that pain, those moments when we were back in Russia doing drag, fighting with the police and law enforcement,” Jenna says. “It is important that this resistance continues and that those voices are not being silenced. Yes, here there’s much more freedom, there are pride parades and queer people can get married, but this is an illusion because there are also places where you cannot get married and you cannot enjoy the same freedoms. I cling to who I am, who I was from the very beginning. I remember who I am. And this is what carries me through this life.”

“Meeting Jenna gave me hope for the future of the country, because governments come and go, people in power come and go, but the generations change at the same time,” Igor says. “So it warms my heart to see that someone like her came from somewhere like that. If I saw her back then at a similar age, it would be even more personal. I think I would’ve accepted myself as gay quicker, and I wouldn't be nervous or closed and not open to the world or myself… Working with this project also meant that we were amplifying the voices of many, many people who couldn't speak like Jenna could.”

For Agniia, the honor of telling Jenna's story is only paralleled by the honor of having her in her life. “We found each other,” Agniia says. “And what I learned from Jenna is so precious; about life, about art, about surviving. And I appreciate it a lot. This film grew so much larger than just a documentary, because I have a family now, a working family.”

Queendom is now available to stream on Apple TV.