Dressed in a black and gold silk Versace loungewear set, with giant Louis Vuitton sunglasses sliding down the brim of his nose, James Smidt sipped his second Manhattan as we chatted at the rooftop bar of The Empire Hotel in Lincoln Center. I asked him to describe his own aesthetic. “Cunt. Tastemaker, epochal artistic mover and shaker. High fashion, good opera, nice cars,” he replied.
James Smidt Checks His Watch
Who’s behind the voice-teacher-cum-shock-jock Haus of Shmizzay?
