St. Vincent: So Haute Right Now

When Annie Clark— St. Vincent singer-songwriter, style leader, queer icon and inarguably one of the coolest people on the planet — arrives at a DTLA studio for her Los Angeles shoot, conveniently located around the corner from a faux-European-themed alley called St. Vincent Court, she’s the picture of self-styled “effortless chic.”

Yet, a few days later, while kicking back in her newish recording studio in Hollywood, Clark — according to Rolling Stone the 26th-greatest guitarist of all time, ahead of Buddy Guy, Jack White and Eric Clapton — demurs when asked about the enviable ensemble she’s wearing, copping only to the “effortless” part.

“Yes, I was wearing a cute Prada trench and a pair of loafers,” she says, neglecting to mention the cuffed white socks. “And JW Anderson had just sent me a pair of sunglasses, so I threw those on. But underneath I was wearing sweatpants and a long, button-down shirtdress that, in a different context, would look like a soccer mom.” Then she doubles down: “It takes me five minutes to get ready. I put SPF on, throw on clothes and go out the door. I do not put a lot of thought into any of it. It’s the truth.”

Maybe Clark — currently raven-haired, always of poreless, porcelain skin — really did (almost) wake up like that. If so, can you blame her for putting minimal effort into her everyday attire when she’s spent the past 17 years meticulously planning eye-popping outfits for her Grammy-winning alias? From avant-garde to apocalyptic, from Bond(age) girl to Warhol-esque woman, the Dallas native, 42 this month, manages to emerge anew, as if from a chrysalis, with each album.

Clark talks about her metamorphosis for the current, self-produced, All Born Screaming , her seventh solo album (check out the music video for the incendiary single “Broken Man,” in which the artist and her designer duds appear to go up in flames); her theory on why L.A. is a dress-down city; her most uncomfortable costume and much more.

Los Angeles : For a long time, St. Vincent seemed associated with New York, and more so in 2017 when you released a song by that name. Do you mainly live in L.A. now?

St. Vincent: I still have a place on the Lower East Side. I’m reticent to give up my identity as a New Yorker, but I do spend most of my time in L.A. and Dallas, where my family is. I’ve been able to build a studio here and I couldn’t have afforded that in New York. Any place I can work is really the center of my world. I bought a house in Laurel Canyon in 2015. The whole thing was practically a recording studio — every room but the bedrooms and bathrooms was miked.

When did you start to feel like an Angeleno?

Living up in Laurel Canyon I’m not sure I felt like an Angeleno. There are no sidewalks; any place you need to go, you need to drive down the hill. I didn’t know my neighbors. Although, there was a time when Jenny Lewis was living with me — this would have been 2016, ’17. We threw some good parties.

Jenny Lewis is so L.A.! She was a child actress before she became a musician.

Lewis is a good time, right? She’s funny! She knows everybody . When she lived with me, that felt a little bit more like the storied idea of Laurel Canyon, because musicians would come over; we’d have salons where people would play their new material. I remember testing out some songs from my Masseduction album. We had some times! But living in Laurel Canyon was isolating. I only recently feel like an Angeleno now that I’m living in Hancock Park, because it’s so much easier to go and do things or grab a drink with a friend.

Sartorially speaking, do you think New York and L.A. still have their own, distinct styles?

I think it’s more homogenous because of social media. In Los Angeles, there’s something aspirational about being as casual as possible, because what it says to the world is, “I don’t have a day job. I’m successful enough.” Or: “I’m famous.” The more slovenly, probably the more successful. When I’m in New York, I make sure I put more effort in. Walking down the street, you encounter more people.

Let’s talk about the looks you created for All Born Screaming . When the Los Angeles creative team was planning your shoot, your longtime stylist, Avigail Collins, sent over the “St. Vincent Bible.” What’s that about?

There are rules for every project. [All Born Screaming] is very heavy at times; it’s about life and death and transformation, walking through the fire. So, the color bible for this was black and white and all the colors in fire. That can be red, that can be blue; the hottest part of the flame is blue. And because there are performances on the record that are sort of unhinged: The look is almost prim — ’90s office wear, like, “Oh, she’s so put together … but she forgot her pants.” There’s something female American Psycho about it. [Another inspiration] is Sophy Rickett and [her] great shots of women in Chanel suits, pissing in public.

What about the makeup, specifically the smeared brick-red lipstick? It’s giving off a Robert Smith of the Cure vibe.

Well, that is not lipstick smeared. It’s simply because I perform so intensely. There’s no lipstick I have ever found that will stay on when I’m doing the show. Between sweat and spit and the microphone and singing and going for it, that’s just what happens.

You wear a lot of Prada onstage for this tour.

Prada had the right aesthetic. I’ve worn things that are off-the-rack, and Avigail sourced those. Also, Alex Da Corte, who creative-directed the album packaging and shot the “Broken Man” music video, has a great relationship with them. And, obviously, I love, love Miss P and everything she does.

You are a very physical performer. What do you wear on your feet?

Prada Chelsea boots. I’m crowd-surfing. I need something with enough support so if I’m jumping off a stage, I don’t break my ankle.

That’s practical.

I’m incredibly practical.

Tell me about your journey to the realization that as a musician, you value both sound and vision (to borrow from David Bowie).

I came up in ’90s indie rock, where it was frowned upon to be too performative — to dress up — because you’re supposed to just be who you are, with no artifice. A turning point for me was doing a tour with David Byrne and working with Annie-B Parson as a choreographer and watching the way David thought about shows being with a capital “S.”

I realized you’re telling a story with your person, your body and your show as much as you are with the music. [It’s] this beautiful, additional outgrowth of the music. It’s emotional to me, this other layer I get to explore. I want people to walk away from a show being deeply moved, not necessarily knowing why. Getting to that subconscious … it matters to me.

When you released your first album, Marry Me , in 2007, you arrived during a rather uninspiring, Gap-ified, Y2K period in music, where pop stars wanted to look and dress like their fans. A couple of years later, Lady Gaga wears her meat dress, then comes Billie Eilish and her XL looks, then Doja Cat shaves her head and Chappell Roan dresses as the Statue of Liberty. It’s almost the rule now that women artists need to come in costume.

In pop music, there was always dressing up, for better or worse. I think the early 2000s are a nadir in fashion — it shocks me that some of those things are coming back. Another part of my lineage is having jazz musicians in the family, my Aunt Patti and Uncle Tuck, who impressed on me that if you’re gonna stand up in front of people and perform, then you need to come correct. It’s a sign of respect to the audience to dress up. If you look at Miles [Davis], he looked sharp as hell.

One of your most memorable fashion moments was when you stood in for the late Kurt Cobain, fronting Nirvana at its Rock & Roll Hall of Fame induction in 2014. What inspired that look?

I was in the middle of a tour for my self-titled record. I had grown so tired of my dark hair I dyed it in a sink in Austin and it turned orange. Eventually it got to white and fried. That was my Memphis/alien/cult-leader look. Then I pulled a dress from Celine. I liked it because it looked like splatter paint.

Do you have an all-time favorite St. Vincent outfit?

I can tell you what was the most painful. Masseduction was very much about desire and pain. I was like, ‘I’m going to wear latex for this tour, because I want to wear things that make me feel constricted.’ One, there’s no shapewear you wear under latex; it’s like getting sucked into this alien pod. Two, you can’t slouch; you need to be upright. And you have to be completely in your body to make it through a show, because you’re in an unforgiving fabric. The other thing about latex is it does not breathe. All the sweat that would get evaporated through a natural fabric just stays on you. I would walk offstage and take the latex off, and it’d be whoosh! — an ocean of sweat coming off my body.

How the heck would you clean it?

It’s very easy: Spray it with cheap vodka.

We’re coming up on Grammy nominations. The awards are going to be here in L.A. again in 2025. As St. Vincent, you’ve won three Grammys — two for alternative music album. All Born Screaming marks the first time you’ve self-produced a release. What are your hopes for awards season?

All Born Screaming is, I think, a great record. With every record, I try to make something that stands the test of time and that you’ll want to listen to in 20 or 30 years, but I’m noticing something I’ve never seen before: People are more excited about this than any previous music. Truly; I’m not being self-aggrandizing. Usually, when you are touring a record you’ve just put out, people are like, “We’ll allow you a few of the new songs but please play us the things we know and love already.” In this case, people want to hear the new material, which is so exciting! Trust me, that never happens.

Where do you keep your Grammys?

I have one at my house here in L.A., one is at my sister’s house in Dallas, another’s at my mom’s house. That’s what the Grammy is for: for the people who supported you from the beginning.

STYLIST: AVIGAIL COLLINS
PHOTOGRAPHER: LENKA ULRICHOVA
LOCATION: VISION STUDIO L.A.
HAIR & MAKEUP: MICHIKO SUZUKI
STYLIST ASSISTANT: OLIVIA KHORY
DIGITECH: JOHN SHIN