A Stroll Through Women's History Museum

Walking up the tangerine-hued staircase to the third floor at 244 Canal Street, you can’t help but glance in the mirror across the walls. To see yourself reflected upon ascension is a metaphorical and prophetic experience as you enter the newly realized world of Women’s History Museum’s Vintage Shop. Founded by Amanda and Mattie, the selection of garments presents a schismatic understanding of fashion’s history, originating a landscape in which camp is normcore and luxury is not reflected in price, but marvel. As the pair continues to design for their own label founded in 2015, Women’s History Museum, the Vintage Shop extends from this point of genesis – but ironically, as a reflection of itself. Many of the pieces sold in-shop have yielded inspiration for patterns for new silhouettes and collections past. Having always thought of their collections as archival, museum-worthy digs culled from the far corners of the early internet, as the rest of the world catches up via Depop, Amanda and Mattie have cemented themselves as authorities on the subject.

As we enter an era of post-core aesthetics and we collage aesthetics on our bodies the way 90s kids cut out magazines for their walls, the selection that Women’s History Museum presents to the retail landscape reminds us that getting dressed can still be a sentimental act.

Lindsey– Congrats on the store opening! I know you have spoken about the impact of New York, what it means to have and find your own relationship to this city and I’m wondering how that ties into your own understanding of the concept of home? The store will also probably feel home to your community as well.

Amanda– Well, New York feels like home for sure, I think for both of us. I'm from the Bronx so I've always lived in New York City so more specifically, I would say New York City feels like home. Mattie is from Virginia.

Mattie– Yeah, but I’ve lived here for most of my life at this point.

Amanda– It's a typical New Yorker thing where you gripe and complain about the many inconveniences of living in New York City – financially, physically, visually – but it's really all about the people here, the people here feel like home, which is cliche but there's a reason why people come here. Over the years through our projects, we've really made a little family and it's been a way to meet people and it’s continued to be that way.

Totally, so why did now feel like the right time to open a permanent space? Was it due to the residual and invigorating energy that spilled over from the vintage pop-ups you’d been doing?

Amanda– We've always dreamed about having a store but when we first met, we wanted to make a magazine, that was the first thing that we thought we’d collaborate on but it didn’t feel feasible. This was 2010, magazines were collapsing and online publications weren’t really a thing yet so we realized it wasn’t realistic, nor did we have the overhead for it. In lieu of that, we debated having a fashion line and a store and one of the ways we related when we first met was through shopping.

I feel like we both had a different but obsessive relationship to shopping. After COVID, there seems to be a renewed interest in fashion and vintage especially with the younger generation, which is really cool, but that was not the case years ago. When we were in college, it did not feel like people were interested in vintage clothing or even had brand knowledge.

Why do you think that is?

Amanda– I think the younger generation had a lot of time during COVID to research. We always say that it felt like everyone got a makeover as there was more time to assess how you looked. The vintage store that we had started online was born during COVID, partly because we had lost our jobs and we were at home and trying to find new sources of income, but also because there seemed to be this interest in vintage clothing, which we both knew a lot about. We started having the pop-ups and began to think of it as an actual reality.

Mattie– Vintage now is so much more desirable than what's being manufactured now. I feel like the fashion world is just not very aspirational, at least, to me. A huge part of what we do with our design and in our art practice is collaging elements from the past that we want to see resurface or to revisit. It’s a natural extension of how we work and is a way to support ourselves and our designs in a way that can’t be done solely by us making new things; it’s also not a reality in this economy and world at this point.

When you guys are talking about the younger generation doing research or these notions of what feels aspirational, people have in tandem developed these post-core aesthetics where they’ll subscribe to things without having an understanding of them. When you guys were talking about collage and the inferred collisions, it’s knowing how to put things together based on connection. People haven’t heard of Beauty: Beast and they’ll drop $300 because it’s a “cute shirt” but I feel like you all would want it to go to a good home too.

Mattie– We’re grateful that people are going to spend that on whatever we're selling. It’s cool because people have to go through their own stages in their personal style of not really knowing what they like. I've certainly gone through many different reincarnations but also the way technology, Instagram and the internet have progressively morphed society, it is a way of collaging aesthetics to the point where it’s almost too easy to have.

Amanda– Yeah, those clashes are being created for you by someone else which can make people's personal style feel a little empty or a little less their own because you’re not drawing the connections through intuition or your own sensibilities. You can feel that with certain people where obviously, they saw someone they follow wear the same combination of an outfit and then you're like, ‘I want to get the same things.’

It’s very complicated because it’s cool that things that we’ve valued for a long time now feel valued and we can economize on our expertise but, at the same time, it’s a side-eye situation.

Yeah totally, it’s clout culture and when you guys were talking about aspirations or what feels aspirational, for a lot of people now it’s just about being thought of as “cool” or relevant, thoughts?

Mattie– It was such a shock reemerging from COVID in the city and being like, whoa, it didn't really feel like it was the “cool Olympics” the way it does now. Of course, yes, being cool is important and is a part of being in New York but the pure volume and density of people who seemingly got a new look during COVID was astounding. There was no story behind their looks either, no trajectory of self-creation or discovery. People were peacocking around New York but didn’t actually have style.

Amanda– Also, I feel like men and boys being interested in fashion feels very new to me. There's so many vintage sellers who are straight, cis men and it’s like dude, when the hell did this happen? Men really got a makeover and are now interested in labels which was just not a thing before.

What do you think that signifies or reflects culturally?

Mattie– I really do think the time spent alone during COVID created this kind of nouveau dandy.

Amanda– Very nouveau dandy! I wonder if it had to do with the times being so bleak in a lot of ways and maybe it’s a response to that? Like looking back at the 1920s or something, where the depression begets…

Mattie– … a need to escape reality. We were just saying last night walking through New York how everything is either a deluxe weed store or a vintage store and those are the only two businesses that are viable – those are really escapist things.

Amanda– In a lot of ways, I think human beings have a lot more to create but at the same time, we have already created a lot. Have we now gone too far in our capacity to make things that people want to instead go back to what's already been made?

Mattie– A state of devolution. We’re at max capacity for creating novelty, which could be positive if it involves self-reflection into the past.

Things in New York have a way of living many lives.

Yeah and I think that reflects this movement towards the hyperniche where curation becomes ultimately about resonance, 360-aesthetics and thus, an experience that can be both intimate and sustainable.

Amanda– Totally and with more depth. Everything feels a bit hollow now and it's kind of like people are simply buying into depth knowing that there’s already a story to what they’re getting.

How much of that reflects this wider inability to enjoy or interact with art or each other because we feel constantly surveilled or watched? How does this role of spectacle play into it all?

Amanda– I wish we could go back in time a bit. I know the internet is such a tool, it's helped me make so many relationships and I don't know where I'd be without it so it's hard to say but at the same time, giving up privacy for those positive things? I wish I could go to a place where I didn't feel like people knew what I was doing all the time and vice versa. It's a less romantic and real way to live, we're all living real life and then living a life that's projected simultaneously.

Mattie– The internet has such a duality to it where it is indeed this tool for human beings to connect, to differentiate themselves and has allowed for this explosion of self-knowledge which couldn't have happened without it; not to mention the many communities that are able to find each other because of it and I think that's incredible. But there's this immune, sick part of our reality and hyper-capitalist society that seizes upon individuality and we're being watched all the time, so they can profit off of human differentiation. It's very perverse and brings us to the other hot topic of AI which is going to change creation and creativity as a whole too, making it quicker and easier. I was listening to this astrology podcast that talked about the Centaur Theory which addresses how humans interact with technology and the same way a centaur needs the human torso, technology still needs a human to make it work.

Right and WHM has always been so singular in its branding but we’re now seeing that every brand and company alike is concerned with the same pillars that represent wokeness, community, shared values etc. to the point where everything gets flattened out.

Amanda– My god, so much has happened and I’m happy we started when we did because there really weren't that many outsider brands then, at least to our knowledge, that were in this sphere. Now there are thousands and everyone has a fashion line. To be able to have made stuff in a time where we were exposed to less things was a luxury because seeing so much stuff is like having static interference of your creativity and it's hard to develop your own voice as you're getting bombarded. It’s shocking to see how the Internet has created a whole fashion world that didn't exist before. That's another reason we’re starting an in-person store because it is nice to have a space where people can actually engage with people on a personal level when everything is so cyber.

Mattie– I don't know if I could function as a young person like that.

Amanda– New York is already such a hard place to navigate socially, it always has been because it is so cutthroat and there’s a lot of big personalities in a small space but I encounter a lot more social awkwardness.

Even when Mattie mentioned “reincarnations,” I think about the implications of being able to cultivate the self while also having to combat the self-censorship that comes with simply existing in the world today. If you had to give verbal form to the stages of reincarnation you’ve been through, can you?

Mattie– I feel like when we became friends at NYU, that was a big thing for us. I grew up Mormon and was always interested in fashion but was definitely surveilled by my community and family about how I was dressing and it was all about modesty for women. I was always very sexualized in one way but then was part of this religion so I received a lot of mixed messages on top of the mixed messages you already receive simply being a woman. Meeting Amanda was definitely a breakthrough moment and it represented having and finding this shared language of expressing ourselves through clothing. We were also in school at a time when people weren’t into clothing in the same way so we were very much in our own world.

Amanda– I’m just thinking of reincarnation in terms of our careers, social media and online presence and I feel like people feel less flexibility in their careers or image because you get pigeon-holed into being one version of yourself. From when we've met until now, we've always been interested in evolving, in doing different things and we’ve never been limited to just one thing. The vintage store is a reincarnation in some ways, we didn’t shy away from doing it for fear of distilling the message or vision etc.

Mattie– We wouldn’t be able to do our own line and art practice without doing the vintage store, there’s no way. Up to this point, we have always been self-funded. Every single fashion show we did while we were simultaneously working a day job, making little to nothing. We're really excited to do a new collection which we're working towards for September, but looking back at all the work that we've made up to this point, it’s just so insane. We were doing it off-calendar and in our own way, but still, it was just totally unsustainable. Now we're able to have this dream be a reality because of the store.

Amanda– And it helps us with our other creative ambitions by creating a more feasible plan for the future and a way to do everything. The way social media is and how people are conditioned now, people seemingly don't think in that way and feel as if you have to just do one thing, one craft, one medium, but sometimes you have to go naturally with what seems to work with where you’re at.

Right and it always depends on whose lens you're looking through. In curating the vintage selections and having an eye for that, how does that play into the design of the collections?

Mattie– We made a mini-collection when we did a film last year but we haven't shown a runway collection since before COVID which was before we started the vintage store. Shopping and having this kind of unofficial archive and collection of things has always been a part of how we design. Our favorite pieces will inform how we want to make a pattern so it’s definitely related.

Amanda– Even the name came from us talking about our ‘museum” which was our clothes, like back in 2014. Everyone has an archive now so it’s more of a contrived concept but we’ve always been informed by vintage and things that have happened, which I mean every designer is, but there’s more of an acknowledgement of that in our process and the way we work.

Mattie– Also back to your question about reincarnation, I feel like both of us or all of us can only keep that many clothes when you live in New York due to the space so we've gone through so many iterations of purging our closets. Even when we were still in school with little to no closet space, we were obsessed with it being our archive or museum.

I’m a person who gets very attached to things so even if I’m not wearing something, I can’t get rid of it. Outside of buying and selling, what are your own relationships to having to say goodbye?

Mattie– I definitely keep more stuff but I still don't have that much stuff. Amanda is somebody who's much more like, okay, that identity is in the trash, I'm going with this other thing now. It's interesting because when you shed a skin and get a new palette that you're into and a new collection of things, there’s still a thread through your style. It won't necessarily be apparent at first, but looking back, there's still trajectory and continuity to it.

Amanda– Yeah I’m much more temporal and less sentimental, I need space to be in a new headspace and maybe it’s a reaction to how my parents are as they keep a lot of stuff. There's something weird with me where I'm like, it has to go. I'm someone who dresses like a cartoon character where I’ll wear the same rotation of outfits for a year, so when I've worn that to death it’s done. It’s like a horcrux that embodies a job, a relationship, a time where you’re like I don't want to be in that space anymore.

There are so many shops now but what do you think sets you guys apart?

Amanda– Well I mean, our curation is the best [laughs]. I feel like we have doctorates in shopping or something. I've been internet shopping since I was 12 years old, I’ve been training for years for this, I feel educated in the science of buying vintage. That amount of time invested has prepared me and Mattie’s been working in vintage stores for many years.

Mattie– Even though I was raised Mormon, my family is very image conscious but Amanda’s family wasn’t so she had to carve that out in isolation on her laptop. My mom and grandma were obsessed with department stores and so I knew about designers through them. In middle school I was obsessed with French Vogue and glossy magazines, I cut them up and made weird collages all the time. I never internet shopped until I got into antique clothing which I was obsessed with and movies were my entry point into vintage.

Yeah and it’s interesting how you guys said that you wanted to initially make a magazine because even looking around at the walls now, they do resemble a collage of sorts and it’s akin to the process you’ve been working through with your art project etc. It’s all been ripped and put back together to create something new, a collection, an issue, whatever it is.

Mattie– I'm glad that you noticed the walls because I feel like the connection you’re making makes a lot of sense but to me, it's this idea of archeology that we’re obsessed with, this sense of digging, unearthing.

Amanda– The whole concept of the store interior is something we're still figuring out but initially it was to make everything look aged, we’ve been interested in that idea for a long time. It’s going to materialize as time goes on and people have come to this location before when it was another business and the that's the thing. Things in New York have a way of living many lives.

Fashion

Racer and Eamonn Freel Explores Nostalgia and Identity Through Their Newest Campaign

December 24, 2024

Racer and photographer Eamonn Freel present a new project blending humor with cultural identity. The Tallinn-based brand continues to develop its distinctive post-Soviet aesthetic, building on the success of its debut runway show at Men’s Paris Fashion Week last June.

This collaboration explores post-irony and youth culture, inspired by late 2000s and early 2010s trends. Racer’s designs reflect the clothes its founders wished they had as kids, combining past and present. Subtle references to feeling “so close yet so far” add emotional depth, making the collection both personal and relatable.

Directed by Anna Himma and captured by Eamonn Freel, this campaign highlight the brand’s take on identity and history.

By Enzo Holdt
Creative direction by Anna Himma
Photography by Eamonn Freel
Styling by Natacha Voranger

Fashion

Inside PALY: A Conversation with James Franco and Kyle Lindgren

December 23, 2024

Kyle Lindgren and James Franco didn’t set out to create just another fashion brand when they launched PALY. Instead, they wanted to fuse their distinct worlds—cinema, storytelling, and design—into something that felt both personal and universally relatable.

Franco, an artist and filmmaker, brings his passion for storytelling to PALY, turning garments into canvases for narrative. His deep love for pop culture and film history infuses the brand’s aesthetic, with reimagined icons and cinematic references that add layers of depth to each collection.

Lindgren, whose roots in skatewear influence the brand’s design philosophy, found a unique synergy in Franco’s expansive archive of sketches. Together, their collaboration transformed what began as personal sketches for friends into a fully realized brand that blends creativity with practicality.

Simon Rasmussen and Enzo Holdt from Office Magazine sat down with James Franco and Kyle Lindgren to explore their creative process, sources of inspiration, and what’s next for PALY. While James Franco was late to join the call, the conversation offered plenty of insights.

Here’s what they had to say.

Interview by Simon Rasmussen and Enzo Holdt
Introduction by Enzo Holdt
Photography by Owen Kolasinski, Ryan Murray and Mark Anthony Blanco

Simon Rasmussen: Kyle, nice to meet you. How’s it going?

Kyle Lindgren: Hey, man. Good, good.

James always got Google Meet issues. But I’ll text him—he’s usually a couple minutes late.

Simon Rasmussen: How did you and James first meet?

Kyle Lindgren: Through mutual friends—classic L.A. story. My friend was close with his girlfriend, and we just kept crossing paths at art galleries and film events. During COVID, we ended up connecting more. I think he was writing a script loosely inspired by The Bachelor.

Simon Rasmussen: That’s a solid show.

Kyle Lindgren: Right? I mean, it started as research, but we all got hooked. Every week, friends would come over to watch The Bachelor at James' place. Actually, now that I think about it, this is kind of the origin story of PALY. I’d just come back from my day job at the Fucking Awesome, and James would be sitting there doodling in his notebook while we watched.

One night, I asked to see some of his sketches, and from there, I started experimenting. I’d wake up at 5 a.m. every day before work, watch YouTube tutorials on Photoshop, and just crank out designs. I wasn’t good at graphic design then—most of the stuff I made was terrible, looking back. But a couple of those pieces actually saw the light of day. I’d mock up t-shirts using James’s sketches and try different techniques I learned online. Eventually, we made about 30 designs, printed them all, and brought them to our Bachelor group. Everyone voted on which ones we should produce, and that became our first unofficial collection.

Simon Rasmussen: So this all started in 2020?

Kyle Lindgren: More like 2021. By that time, James had built up a pretty solid archive of sketches. During the pandemic, he started this ritual of sketching in a notebook every day. His assistant would scan everything, so when we began seriously creating designs—initially just for our friends—there were already 1,000 or 2,000 drawings to work with.

Now we’ve got over 8,000. He goes through a notebook every couple of weeks. It’s crazy.

(At this point, James Franco joins the conversation...)

James Franco: Hey, sorry I’m late. What’s up? I’m out of it. I’m only in LA for five days, so I just… yeah, I just got back. Sorry about that.

What were you guys talking about?

Kyle Lindgren: We were just talking about how you’d sketch during Bachelor nights and how that turned into our first designs.

James Franco: Oh, yeah. That’s funny to think about. It really started so casually during COVID. Well keep going.

Simon Rasmussen: So it really began during those watch parties?

Kyle Lindgren: Yeah, in the most random way. It wasn’t some planned thing; it just came together naturally.

Kyle Lindgren: I had forgotten that it all circled back to The Bachelor—when we used to sit and watch it every week. I think I was talking about how when we started mocking things up, we had maybe a couple thousand drawings. The last time I counted we had about 7,000. That was a year ago, and now we’re probably at 14,000. It’s been super helpful for designs.

James Franco: Yeah, I don’t know what Kyle’s told you, but we’ve known each other for years now. I’d gone to art school a long time ago, but I hadn’t been drawing or painting for years. During the pandemic, I read How to Be an Artist by Jerry Saltz. It’s a simple book, but really smart, with practical ideas about creativity. One suggestion was to draw every day. With acting on hold, I thought, Okay, I’ll create a schedule for myself, even if there are no art shows or concrete goals in sight.

I started sketching while we’d watch The Bachelor—initially as research for a script I was writing about LA TV.

Simon Rasmussen: So it started as research?

James Franco: Yeah, and then it became an addiction. My girlfriend’s the real reality TV addict now—she’s deep into The Real Housewives. I couldn’t hang with that; it’s like Dostoevsky-length reality TV. But The Bachelor didn’t require much focus, so I’d sketch while we all watched. Then Kyle asked me to draw on some denim. I did a couple of jackets, and our friends thought they were cool and started bringing their own jackets for me to customize.

Kyle saw potential in the drawings and started mocking up t-shirts. He scanned the sketches and printed them onto shirts. We ended up with a bunch of samples, laid them out in the kitchen, and had our friends vote on which ones were best. That became our first collection: eight t-shirts and a few hoodies and crewnecks.

Simon Rasmussen: When did this happen?

Kyle Lindgren: We showed the collection for Spring/Summer ’24, so by June 2023, we were in Paris.

James Franco: Before that, we didn’t have any store connections. Kyle lived near H. Lorenzo in LA, so we walked in with our stuff. It was like a scene from a movie. Lorenzo and his son, Mack, were there. Lorenzo was like, Okay, show me what you’ve got. Put it on the racks. They went through every piece, deciding which ones to take. It was all consignment, but they sold everything.

After that, we went to Paris for Men’s Week. We rented a hotel room and emailed stores, introducing ourselves as Kyle and James Franco. Honestly, I think some people thought it was a scam.

Kyle Lindgren: We didn’t want to market it as a “celebrity brand,” but that was probably the one time we used James’ name—just to get people to come look.

James Franco: Hey, Kyle, go back to the origin spot. What was in your brain when we started, I can't even remember?

Kyle Lindgren: Honestly, I think I just had this tunnel vision about apparel. Back then, everything I saw—sketches, objects, even random stuff like a leaf on the street—felt like it could be applied to fashion. It’s a bit corny, but I was constantly thinking, How can this become a shirt, or inspire a collection? Like so dumb.

It was really just like a daily practice. James was doing his daily drawings. I was doing my little daily mockups every morning before work. We never really forced anything. It also didn't come easy, like having a celebrity attached. Because that wasn’t the front-facing thing, we didn’t really take many shortcuts. It almost made it harder because we had this thing we were trying to conceal. We didn’t want it to damage the brand and wanted the design to stand on its own.

James Franco: At MRKT during Basel, people came in loving PALY without knowing I was involved. I was even drawing on denim at the party, and some kids didn’t realize it was me until later. It’s kind of fun being in the background like that.

Simon Rasmussen: So, why do you choose to tell the story now?

James Franco: There’s part of me that really liked the idea of it being kind of a hidden thing. Because, as opposed to acting, where I can’t escape it—it’s just like, boom, there I am; it’s my face that’s in the work—this was different. There was something appealing about a kind of Elena Ferrante or Banksy thing.

But I think we just figured: a) it wasn’t going to remain hidden forever. I was already meeting with all the stores, doing events. I wasn’t going to keep showing up to things in secret. And b) we realized the selling point wasn’t me. People liked the product. So, it wasn’t about leveraging celebrity; the design stood on its own.

Simon Rasmussen: Was Hollywood always part of the vision?

Kyle Lindgren: Yeah, it’s central to James’s art. His work reflects Hollywood history and its darker underbelly, so it became the natural throughline for the brand. When I placed his drawings into the context of the designs, Hollywood’s mystique tied everything together.

Simon Rasmussen: Is there a message to Hollywood in the brand?

James Franco: I wouldn’t call it a direct message or critique. It’s not like one of those tourist t-shirts that says, “This place sucks.” It’s more about transformation. There’s an underground filmmaker, Kenneth Anger, who really influenced me. He wrote Hollywood Babylon, a book full of overblown gossip and tragedy that turned Hollywood’s mystique into something almost mythical, like a quasi-religion. He collaborated with people like Mick Jagger but also explored Hollywood’s darker, mystical side.

Anger’s work was about taking the glamour and icons of Hollywood and making them reference something bigger—both its light and dark sides. That’s what I see PALY doing, too: not critiquing Hollywood but diving into it and amplifying its mystery and power. It’s about letting Hollywood represent something universal, something that fascinates us about humanity.

A lot of artists I admire, like Paul McCarthy, Harmony Korine, and Douglas Gordon, used Hollywood as material to create something new. For me, it’s similar—I grew up in Hollywood, but through art and now fashion, I can step outside of it. I’m in a unique position where I can use Hollywood as a lens, not just to critique it but to reimagine it and turn it into something fresh.

Simon Rasmussen: It's a very interesting place, you guys position yourselves. Luxury brands are increasingly positioning themselves as entertainment channels, aiming to compete with top Hollywood productions. Brands like Louis Vuitton and Saint Laurent are focused on creating films, taking on the role of filmmakers to rival major directors.

James Franco: Yeah, I noticed that trend at Cannes this year. Saint Laurent Productions had like four films there.

Simon Rasmussen: It’s fascinating how brands are trying to imitate Hollywood. It's very interesting. You're onto something.

James Franco: Exactly. I was just watching Queer by Luca Guadagnino last night, and Loewe's designer did all the costume design.

Enzo Holdt: The collection you just launched at Art Basel features reimagined posters of films like Paris, Texas, Blue Velvet, and Drugstore Cowboy. These movies explore themes of alienation, so I wanted to ask, James, why did you choose these specific films/posters to work on?

James Franco: There are a few reasons. On a practical level, Kyle sources these vintage posters, so part of it depends on what he finds. But when I saw these oversized, beautiful pieces, I initially hesitated—like, should I even draw on them? Then I thought, well, that's kind of what I do. When I was in Italy recently promoting a film, I spent a lot of time signing posters, so in a way, this felt like an extension of that—adding to the poster, not destroying it.

As for the films themselves, Kyle and I often develop themes for each collection, whether it's an old legend, a tragedy, or a myth. For example, in Miami, there’s a nod to Dorothy Stratton’s tragic story, which inspired Star 80. With Paris, Texas and Drugstore Cowboy, I have a personal connection, having worked with Wim Wenders and Gus Van Sant. And Blue Velvet, for me, is iconic—David Lynch at his best. It’s the movie where he fully became Lynch, balancing a polished surface and then underneath is the subconscious and the darkness. And in a way, I think that's our company, those multiple levels. So that movie, just like Kenneth Anger, is super special to me and Kyle.

And beyond that, these films share a certain kind of Americana, capturing a raw, rugged underbelly of America that resonates deeply with what we’re building.

Enzo Holdt: Kyle, when I look at PALY’s designs, I see a strong punk influence, which might come from your time at Fucking Awesome. But the combination of that with Hollywood—something far more glamorous and alluring—feels contrasting yet creates something really beautiful. Could you talk about that?

Kyle Lindgren: Definitely. My time at Fucking Awesome taught me a lot, particularly about working with an artist’s vision and translating it into three-dimensional forms.

Enzo Holdt: You’re referring to Jason Dill?

Kyle Lindgren: Yes, Jason. We’d dig through his archive of artwork and find creative ways to bring it to life. That experience taught me how to add depth to a collection, not just through storytelling—like what James brings—but also through the techniques we use.

With PALY, there’s a real emphasis on storytelling. James drives that narrative side, but we also make sure the garments physically tell a story. Techniques like crystals, embroidery, washes, and distressing aren’t just decorative—they give each piece a sense of history, as if the wear and details reflect where the garment has been.

Ultimately, we merge these elements into a cohesive whole, where the designs carry both visual and emotional depth.

Enzo Holdt: It sounds like PALY’s storytelling and approach are very tactile. Would you describe it as an analog brand in a digital world?

Kyle Lindgren: That’s a deep question. For me, I’m so involved in the day-to-day that it’s hard to step back and see the brand from a broader perspective. James is much better at looking at the whole picture, whereas I’m more focused on the physical product—the fabrication, techniques, washes, all of that.

In that sense, the brand feels analog to me. Maybe it’s because I’m getting older, but I naturally think product-first, rather than prioritizing social media or digital campaigns. That’s what creates a nice balance between James and me. His background is rooted in media and storytelling, whereas I’m more hands-on and product-oriented. Together, it creates a dynamic mix.

James Franco: I love that, and I’ll just add something quickly. About ten years ago, I did a project with MOCA in L.A. based on Rebel Without a Cause. The project, Rebel, involved different artists reinterpreting parts of the film or its behind-the-scenes stories to create new work.

That’s what I appreciate about PALY. It’s not about critiquing Hollywood; it’s about re-engaging with it and giving it new life. I love how old movies still resonate—fan clubs, special screenings, places like the New Beverly—and how they continue to bring people together.

Through PALY, we’re doing something similar. We’re not remaking Drugstore Cowboy, but we’re reanimating its essence. These stories and legends get a new form through the clothes—new iconography, new imagery. It’s like the narrative is reborn, letting people connect with those stories in a fresh way. You’re not just watching the movie; you’re experiencing it again, but differently, through what you wear.

Enzo Holdt: You have mentioned Kenneth Anger a few times, what is your favorite project of his? I just watched Lucifer Rising for the first time, and it felt a bit occult, but I thought it was pretty good.

James Franco: Lucifer Rising definitely has a dark backstory.

Enzo Holdt: Yeah, I read about the music and the composer was connected to the Manson family, right?

James Franco: Exactly. Beausoleil was the first member of the Manson family to be arrested. He wasn’t involved in the Sharon Tate murders but was tied to an earlier one. There’s a whole history there—he and Kenneth Anger had a falling out, and supposedly, Beausoleil stole some of the film reels for Lucifer Rising and buried them in the desert.

Enzo Holdt: That’s wild.

James Franco: For me, Scorpio Rising is still my favorite Kenneth Anger project. I first saw it in film school, and it completely blew me away. What stood out was the way he used pop hits of the time as a soundtrack, set against contrasting and provocative visuals.

What really struck me, though, was how Anger, as a queer artist, captured a real biker gang and transformed their image. Instead of coming across as purely tough and hyper-masculine, they take on this sensual, almost queer quality through his lens. That idea of transforming your subject through how you shoot it really resonated with me. It influenced my early short films at NYU and is still something I think about in my work today.

Enzo Holdt: What has been the most rewarding part of building PALY together?

James Franco: For me, the most rewarding part has been the collaboration. I’ve always loved working with others—it’s something I learned from being an actor and making films, where every project involves so many people coming together. Working with Kyle has felt really natural, and it’s been this beautiful, symbiotic process.

I tend to want to do too much—I overload scripts, shoot too many scenes, and put in more than necessary. When I direct movies, editors and producers help me refine things, and Kyle plays a similar role for PALY. He’s like an editor, filtering my tendency to go overboard and helping shape all these ideas into something cohesive and better.

As an artist, having a collaborator or editor you trust is invaluable. It’s what I’ve always envied about teams like the Coen Brothers—someone to bounce ideas off of and build something together. That’s what we’ve created here, and it’s incredibly rewarding.

Kyle Lindgren: I’d have to echo that—it’s the collaboration. Being able to bounce ideas back and forth until they evolve into something unexpected is such a special process. Often, it’s a struggle to get there, but when you trust your partner, even if it’s just starting on a two-dimensional screen, you create something far better than you could have on your own. For me, that’s the most rewarding part of this whole journey.