Excess, obliviousness, total focus on the present moment: do you miss that?
No, I don’t ever want to leave this state of sobriety. I need it for the creative projects that lie ahead of me. If I get the feeling one day that my life as an artist has run its course, I might be tempted to smoke opium all day to endure what lies ahead.
« But what the eyes of others see is not me. »
Do you struggle with melancholy and gloom?
Yes, in black moments I feel like a household appliance in the pre-mortem phase. Although someone has pulled the plug out of the old washing machine, it continues to spin, stuttering, and still produces foam. And then, clack, a screw falls down, then another and the drum slowly comes to a halt. Dying sucks, but maybe death is a big, friendly embrace.
Anyone who gets to know you better will be amazed at how shy and timid you are.
I have learnt to weaponise my shyness and have developed alternative personalities. The public figure of Wolfgang Joop is a lookalike who makes appearances for me while I protect my shy self at home.
Are there any advantages to being old apart from discounts for seniors?
I don’t know any. Age sucks. The body causes one insult after another.
Have you become more relaxed in old age?
No, just slower.
Have you become eccentric in your old age?
Of course. I watch programmes on ARTE about bacteria, the wonder of the stars or the formation of our planet. I would never have done that before. Maybe I’ll survive as a bacterium on an alien star.
Do you find yourself mistaking your peers for members of an older generation?
I don’t know any of my peers. I’m not interested in talking about bladder weakness at night.
Do you delete people’s contact details on your smartphone as soon as they die?
No, that would seem unkind to me.
When was the last time you did something for the first time?
I was in Hörnum on the island of Sylt in August.
Do you believe you know yourself at the age of 80, or do you become more of an enigma to yourself as you get older?
I still can’t quite figure out the person behind my eyelids. We all live with two, three or four versions of ourselves and will never know one of them until the end of our lives. The drama is that we can’t see ourselves through the eyes of the people we feel closest to. I neither know who I am as a counterpart nor how I myself feel. We enter into relationships in order to find this out and discover our true self. But what the eyes of others see is not me. I would love to know how I come across when I sit opposite myself in a restaurant. But this mystery will never be solved, which intensifies my already melancholic mood.
« I would love to know how I come across when I sit opposite myself in a restaurant. »
How many years have passed between your reflection and the image you have of yourself?
Until a few years ago, I would have said, ‘I’m forever forty.’ Today I look in the mirror and am confronted with: how much time do you have left? Genetically, I have good prospects. My mother died at 95 of an aneurysm in her brain, a sudden death that she probably didn’t even feel. My father died at 92 while singing a song from his youth. At 94, my grandfather said, 'Well, look who’s coming?' – and then he just died.
Do you struggle with what you see in the mirror?
Of course. Self-centred men view their appearance with a self-criticism that is in no way inferior to that of women. Unfortunately, I see an elderly gentleman in the mirror who I hadn’t expected. The only benefit is that this kind of struggle has always been my key to happiness. Self-doubt is a protective shield against the omnipresent banality that tries to comfort us.
Is being old worse if you used to be beautiful?
My photo albums show me that I was never ugly, but beauty is an asset that doesn’t last forever. The geriatric beauty Joan Collins is supposed to have said, 'Being born beautiful is like being born rich and slowly going bankrupt.' I avoid looking in the mirror with increasing regularity because the person who appears there triggers two conflicting feelings in me: it’s me and it’s not me. You could say I see an AI version of myself that is still in the test phase.
Do you sometimes feel the urge to take down the mirrors in your home and live without your image like you once did as an ego-free child?
Yes, it must be incredibly liberating to live detached from your own reflection. We would immediately give up a lot of IQ points to be naturally smooth again. Even as a child, I had a perfectionist idea of my appearance. The fact that I didn’t correspond to this ideal image led to a deep sense of insecurity. The solution seemed to be to practise the art of seduction. And then the self-doubt became addiction.
The writer Martin Walser wrote in his late 80s, 'You are old, that’s true. But you don’t have different wishes or intentions than someone who is 20 years younger. The difference? You now have to act as if you have completely different wishes and intentions to a 45-year-old.' Is being old an act of pretence in front of young people?
Yes. Age does not change the wishes, desires and flaws that you have. But as not everyone grows old, I consider it a privilege to be one of the survivors. Age can also be the freedom to free oneself from old obsessions, for example the fear that with the loss of fertility, sexual power will disappear like a biblical punishment. Neither escaping into the past nor declaring war against physical decay helps in defeating one’s own obsessions. No one has yet won the battle against age. But you can be freed from the compulsion to constantly compare yourself with others.
When you are older, are you only able to put up with people if they listen to you?
One’s curiosity about other people does at least wane. People find their own past more interesting than that of others. I am most curious about what I could still do, about talents of mine that I have not yet discovered. The thing I am most afraid of is inactivity.
As the saying goes, whores become pious in old age. Do you think about topics such as God and the afterlife?
I have been drawn towards the abyss several times during my life. My guardian angels always had to work overtime during these periods. Who should I thank for this? The French philosopher Simone Weil said that you can tell that God exists by the fact that he is not there. He gifted us the Earth with the task of shaping it – like parents furnishing a nursery for their baby. If a blueprint for my life circles with the stars in the afterlife, then I thank God. I have often been amazed by him.
« My father's reaction was to encourage me to doubt myself. »
For around 30 years you used to consult fortune tellers.
I stopped doing that in 2006. At that time, a Viennese actress gave me her rosary on the beach in Dubai, which had been blessed by the Holy Father in Rome. She said, 'I was paralysed and now I can walk again, so I no longer need the rosary. It should protect you.' Her rosary became my talisman. I put it on my mother’s chest as she was dying.
One of your beliefs is that creativity is an attempt to repair a wounded soul, and that only great pain leads to a great career. What is your wound?
As a boy, I showed my father a drawing that I was probably all too proud of. His reaction was to encourage me to doubt myself. At that moment, I lost my sense of basic trust. I never attained a feeling of self-assurance. The crisis became my sense of existence. For creative people, this basic mindset is an advantage, because the breeding ground for creativity is a mix of courage and agonising self-doubt. Both have stayed with me to this day.
What have you learned about vanity?
Vanity in digestible doses results from the simple need to please others. The options for optimising your appearance today are immense. I can understand anyone who doesn’t want to accept the design that Mother Nature has given them. But there is a second form of vanity. It often hides under ill-fitting suits. These people want to compensate for what they lack in elegance with ostentation and bluster. Their vanity knows no humility and is therefore toxic.
Are only insecure people vain?
Vain people usually don’t believe that they are worthy of being loved. They ask the question 'Do you love me?' out of insecurity, not out of arrogance. Even when they hear 'yes', they continue to doubt. This constant mistrust is what makes vain people so exhausting. Romantics are told: People who deserve love the most are the least likely to be rewarded by it.
How do you distinguish between vanity and narcissism?
Narcissism is a poison that corrodes the personality in the long term. According to Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Narcissus was a beautiful youth who was desired by both sexes, but responded to no-one. When he saw his reflection in the water of a spring, he fell in love with his own image without realising that it was only a reflection. He died of this unfulfilled love. Narcissus is a deeply sad character who shows that excessive self-indulgence never has a happy ending.
What do you disapprove of most: vanity or narcissism?
People of my kind know both. Vanity can make a person unfold like a Japanese paper flower. Without a certain degree of self-obsession, every creative person will sooner or later run out of ambition, energy and productivity.
Have you loved enough in your life?
In my own way, yes. It’s a wonder what love can do to you. Having missed out on just one version of love is reason enough to despair.
What do you regret in your life?
I am suspicious of public confessions of remorse because shame is not something you wear on your sleeve. Confessing remorse in front of an audience only makes sense if forgiveness is included.
Who else do you still need to apologise to?
To my father. He was at war when I was born. Later, I only knew him from photos. When he came home after seven years of being in Russian captivity, he was a stranger to me and his stories bored me. I should have listened when my own father wanted to talk about the war and other harrowing experiences.
Imagine that a truthful biography about you is published. Would you recommend the book?
I would play my cards close to my chest. The truth is a narrow-lipped lady. There is great wisdom in this attitude, because truths are often very ugly and hurtful and the opposite of subtle.
You owe part of your popularity to your talent for headline-grabbing theses. You claimed that fashion editors 'collectively look badly shagged'. Your reasoning, published in Stern magazine in 1997 was, 'Just look at their style: mourning outfit with sunglasses. This profession breeds malice, envy and frustration. When royal houses like Chanel issue invitations, the ladies naturally realise that they don’t have the money for this pompous lifestyle themselves. These self-appointed arbiters of taste only used to manage the clothing store. And then they keep seeing these pretty models who they have to molly coddle the whole time, because it’s their job. In reality, of course, these vipers are delighted when one of these girls is «out» again. Then they sit (...) around the guillotine feeling triumphant, «Ha, she’s finally out of the scene too!» It’s a merry-go-round of shame that must never come to a standstill.'
Do you find it particularly original to come up with one of my quotes that is almost 30 years old? In the mid-nineties, I was a stupid kid with a big mouth and hadn’t exactly developed my character or intellect. I should have been punched in the face. To apologise, I can say that fashion people back then were not only mean to others – they also constantly betrayed themselves. We looked down on the people who were wearing today what we had advised them to wear yesterday.
Product designer Peter Schmidt has designed perfume bottles for you. In an interview with SZ-Magazin in 2015, he said, ‘Wolfgang is a tragic figure. He was completely under-challenged in life. With his sparkling talent and quick mind, he should have gone to Paris, London or New York early on. Instead, he stayed here and became a drama queen. It’s a huge tragedy.’
Is he talking about himself? And where is it written that talent and smartness urgently need to be exported? Even without permanently leaving Germany, I have held my own on the catwalks of Paris, Milan and New York.
After half a century of professional experience: which talent is the most important in fashion?
You have to find a balance between art and craftsmanship, and have a sense of timing. A successful designer satisfies desires that he creates himself. The customer sees something new and thinks: I’ve wanted that for a long time!
Do you think you achieved your success yourself, or is it something that happened to you?
There is a calendar quotation that contains a great truth, ‘Success has many fathers; failure is an orphan.’ Basically, my career still amazes me to this day. When I started out as a designer in the early seventies, there were no role models in fashion in Germany. The so-called zeitgeist took over and made figures like Karl Lagerfeld, Jil Sander and me possible. We were in the right place at the right time with the right looks.
Karl Lagerfeld once said that even as a young boy he knew that one day his fashion would be seen in the shop windows on the Champs Élysées.
There are obviously people who know prenatally who and what they want to become. I was the opposite, a dreamer who had a thousand desires instead of one career aspiration. I only felt self-assured when I was sketching. I mostly sketched portraits of women and so-called lifelike nudes. The sketches elicited the first oohs and aahs of my life from those around me. As chance would have it, I was invited to Paris to produce haute couture fashion sketches for the Schweizer Illustrierte magazine. As I was a pretty boy, the publisher of the magazine took me everywhere with her. But pretty boys are like beautiful women: you don’t trust them to persevere with something for long. I felt inferior to everyone, but I quickly learned that you need to have read the book of seven poses if you don’t have anything to say. My desire to be significant led to a determination to persevere at all costs. Fake it till you make it.
« But pretty boys are like beautiful women: you don’t trust them to persevere with something for long. »
Product designer Peter Schmidt has designed perfume bottles for you. In an interview with SZ-Magazin in 2015, he said, ‘Wolfgang is a tragic figure. He was completely under-challenged in life. With his sparkling talent and quick mind, he should have gone to Paris, London or New York early on. Instead, he stayed here and became a drama queen. It’s a huge tragedy.’
Is he talking about himself? And where is it written that talent and smartness urgently need to be exported? Even without permanently leaving Germany, I have held my own on the catwalks of Paris, Milan and New York.
After half a century of professional experience: which talent is the most important in fashion?
You have to find a balance between art and craftsmanship, and have a sense of timing. A successful designer satisfies desires that he creates himself. The customer sees something new and thinks: I’ve wanted that for a long time!
Do you think you achieved your success yourself, or is it something that happened to you?
There is a calendar quotation that contains a great truth, ‘Success has many fathers; failure is an orphan.’ Basically, my career still amazes me to this day. When I started out as a designer in the early seventies, there were no role models in fashion in Germany. The so-called zeitgeist took over and made figures like Karl Lagerfeld, Jil Sander and me possible. We were in the right place at the right time with the right looks.
Karl Lagerfeld once said that even as a young boy he knew that one day his fashion would be seen in the shop windows on the Champs Élysées.
There are obviously people who know prenatally who and what they want to become. I was the opposite, a dreamer who had a thousand desires instead of one career aspiration. I only felt self-assured when I was sketching. I mostly sketched portraits of women and so-called lifelike nudes. The sketches elicited the first oohs and aahs of my life from those around me. As chance would have it, I was invited to Paris to produce haute couture fashion sketches for the Schweizer Illustrierte magazine. As I was a pretty boy, the publisher of the magazine took me everywhere with her. But pretty boys are like beautiful women: you don’t trust them to persevere with something for long. I felt inferior to everyone, but I quickly learned that you need to have read the book of seven poses if you don’t have anything to say. My desire to be significant led to a determination to persevere at all costs. Fake it till you make it.
« Fashion victims can be recognised by their lack of sex appeal. »
Lagerfeld, the epitome of the fashion czar, was laid to rest in 2019. Since then, your industry has only rarely appeared in the tabloid newspapers.
Lagerfeld’s greatest artistic achievement was to create a social sculpture of the same name. Fashion will always be both: discipline and excess; euphoria and depression. The overriding credo is that the best design has yet to be created. Over time, you realise that you shouldn’t adore fashion – like love – too much, because both betray those who are addicted to them. Fashion victims can be recognised by their lack of sex appeal; yet dissatisfaction is the first step to success. At some point you realise: cool is not what you wear, but how you wear it. The wrong pose can ruin the most beautiful piece of clothing.
Has fashion lost its power?
It is demystifying itself because it has been stuck in its ways for years. Ideally, fashion is a movement that senses and illustrates the changes of our time. It is intuitive sociology in textile form. When an era is dying, it is fashion that buries it. More important than fashion today is the desire to change the morphology of one’s own body. New breasts or a nose job have a higher priority than the new it-bag. Nothing makes people happier for longer than successful cosmetic surgery – with an emphasis on 'successful'.
Do important fashion designers secretly know that everything has been done, made and said before?
The older ones realise this at some point. The big secret, however, is to recognise the right time and context to allow something to return. Even the most brilliant collection fails if it comes too early.
Which phrase in your profession would you most like to ban?
A woman stands in front of the mirror in a new outfit and asks: 'Is it me?'
« My sudden fame infused the family like a perfume. »
Who in fashion do you most respect these days?
Demna Gvasalia, the creative director of Balenciaga. In his first Balenciaga show in 2015, he already presented a new type of woman: determined, on a mission, surging ahead of best female friends and men. The impression was epochal, like that of Rei Kawakubo and Yohji Yamamoto in the early eighties.
Is the worldwide triumph of sportswear the final triumph of comfort over beauty?
No, tracksuit bottoms can also be beautiful. It depends on the moment and the surroundings. What a Chanel handbag was the day before yesterday can be Balenciaga sneakers for 1,450 euros today.
How would you describe your way of dressing?
My style is a deliberate lack of style. I pick out gems from my vintage collection and start experimenting with them. The result sometimes looks completely chaotic, but that’s how I feel anyway. One concession to age is that I wear comfortable shoes.
Which phrase printed about you have you not forgotten to this day?
Amy Spindler, the fashion critic for the New York Times, once wrote that I had strange taste: like eating pancakes with sauerkraut.
You are currently designing clothes for your two labels Looks and Wunderkind/Hessnatur. How many hours do you work per week?
I work eight hours a day from Monday to Saturday. Of course, this is also a kind of escape. I want to avoid reflecting on my life. That’s why I hate holidays.
You have two daughters from your 15-year marriage to the former costume designer Karin Benatzky. Jette, 56, designs jewellery, fashion and furniture. Florentine, 51, illustrates children’s books. How did you fare as a father?
Sometimes the children gave me a gold medal for being the most loving dad; other times they needed me to accuse me of something. When they wanted something from me, they were very skilful at using my weaknesses and soft spots to achieve their goals. With men, in the early years they were looking for either the anti-image to me or the carbon copy.
In 2010, an inheritance dispute threatened to tear your family apart. You accused Jette of greed and illegal practices and called her ‘bitchy’.
A father cannot renounce his love for his child, but this love is vulnerable. Jette and I have similar characters, but what connects us can also separate us. When we argue, we often see ourselves in the other person, and that is then the final straw. Jette puts it like this, 'We are the same, but different.' You only get absolution for your mistakes as a father when you stop asking for it.
What is your relationship with Jette like today?
The deep wounds remain, but we have learnt to maintain a balance between closeness and distance.
What surprises you as a father to this day?
How quickly I can be disarmed. I have to be on my guard, because if the two girls get together, they are the masters of my heartbeat. We are an explosive trio with constant conflicts of loyalty. And when my daughters are angry, they are both really angry.
For half a century you have lived with Edwin Lemberg, a former photographer whom you met while taking photos in Martinique. You have been married since 2013. When asked how he would summarise their relationship in one sentence, Lemberg replied in 2019, 'We have been abusing each other for 41 years now, which is very entertaining.' What do you say about that?
Edwin was a mutual friend of Karin and I for three years. Then my wife fell in love with another man. After a 12-months long farewell battle with her, full of tears and reproaches, I moved in with Edwin in his huge and empty basement flat in Hamburg’s Rothenbaumchaussee. I looked at the shoes of the Hamburgers and sketched fashion designs. As I had taken on the costs for the children, the pressure was enormous. During this time, I clung to Edwin. Without him, I wouldn’t have dared to do what I did with Joop! One’s inner child does not grow in parallel to one’s own success. To this day, I need a protector and someone to give me strength. Edwin is that person.
The sex in your relationship dwindled away at some point. Since then you have been lifelong friends and business partners.
What never existed cannot dwindle away. Sexually, we weren’t meant for each other from the start. Trying to seduce Mr Lemberg would seem grotesque to me. I missed out on finding out who is my type sexually in the long run.
You occasionally engage in melodramatic relationship fights with Lemberg. Mangoes flew through the air and an eardrum burst.
Edwin surely caught the mangoes. I don’t really want any arguments, but Edwin thinks it’s outrageous for me to avoid discussing problems. He knows that as an only child I’m afraid of being alone and that sooner or later I’ll want to be close to him again. Owing to this disposition, we live with the feeling that fate has symbiotically chained us together, for better or for worse.
In what ways do you notice that Lemberg is 13 years younger than you?
For example, the energy with which he tackles our major projects. If I allow myself to be dazzled by people or ideas, he acts as the suspicious controller. He organises our business and private lives and knows how to pack suitcases. I am his hostage because I would be incapable of coping with everyday life on my own.
When was the last time someone broke your heart?
The question contains an assertion. Simone Weil writes about the empty place in the heart that has no name. Perhaps I have spent my whole life looking for the person to fill this empty space.
Do you remember your last night of love?
I remember all the nights of love – there weren’t that many. Because I was often wild at heart; looking back, it could have been twice as many.
When you look back on your life: what did you not succeed in doing?
I had hoped for the fulfilment of the utopia that those I love the most would be filled with love for and among each other. I did not succeed in saving my daughters from unhappiness and pain. The separation of their parents has destroyed their perfect world. They have grown up with a wounded idea of love.
Why do you hardly appear in public any more?
My job has taught me not to linger too long on the catwalk at the end of a show. Otherwise one experiences this deadly silence after the applause.
Who will close your eyes when you lie on your deathbed? Lemberg or one of your daughters?
I hope it will be Edwin. I know he would be prepared to do it. However, I also know that he would first check his diary to see if he has time. That’s why Jette will probably be quicker. I myself would be far too sentimental for something like that. If I were to close someone’s eyes, I would faint immediately.
Burial or cremation?
I don’t want to be burned, I’m not a witch. I would like the song 'Love’s in Need of Love Today' by Stevie Wonder to be performed. I’ve always loved this song.
If you could take something with you when you leave the Earth, what would it be?
A pen for drawing and writing. And a book of Simone Weil’s quotes. One is, 'You have to achieve the possible in order to touch the impossible.'
What do you definitely not want to hear in the speeches at your funeral?
Farewell words like, 'We will never forget...'. Sentences that begin like this are a lie. Who knows what will be said and felt when people remember us. What was, is forgotten; and what is forgotten, does not return.
What do you want people to remember you as after your death?
As a gifted dilettante who had two golden eggs in the middle of his name.
« I like the song 'Love’s in Need of Love Today' by Stevie Wonder. »
