where attitudes and attire meet in motion
In the Cab With
Carine Roitfeld
A Conversation on
Identity, Instinct, Chic, and the Enduring Power of Dreaming
June 19 2026, by Bart Kooi
Throughout a career that includes a decade-long tenure as editor-in-chief of Vogue Paris and collaborations with Tom Ford, Mario Testino, and Karl Lagerfeld, Roitfeld established an instantly identifiable visual signature. Her body of work balances on the fine line between eroticism and provocation, oscillating between irreverence and simplicity — an approach in which fashion is never just about clothing, but about the woman and her strength, character, and attitude. It is an instinctive way of seeing which she continues to express today through her own magazine, CR Fashion Book.
This week’s In the Cab With: Carine Roitfeld — a conversation on identity, instinct, chic, and the enduring power of dreaming: “I am a dreamer, and I am very lucky to be one. I believe it is a huge gift.”
Your father, Vladimir Roitfeld, was a film producer and one of the first to produce erotic films in France. You’ve described him as “an exceptionally elegant, free-spirited individual,” and as a key inspiration in your life. How did your relationship with him shape you?
If I had one icon, it would be him. He was very chic in his own Russian way — radiant, and wherever he went, people loved him.
To be chic is not just about the way you dress; it’s a state of mind. Some people can throw on anything and immediately look chic — you don’t know why, it’s a mystery. My father was one of those people, and I tried to learn from him. People think of me as a frightening person, but those who work with me know that’s not true — I’m actually very kind. I’m just very shy. My father gave me my attitude.
At his funeral, I saw so many people come to pay their respects. It made a big impression on me. At my own funeral, I would like to have almost as many people there as at his. Recently, I was baptized at the Nevsky Cathedral so that my funeral service can be held there. When I die, everything will already be arranged for my children.
[adds] Also, I invite people I like to my home — maybe you should come one day — and I let them choose an object they love and place a sticker on it. I keep track of everything in a book. After my funeral, I want people to come back, eat and drink in a very Russian way, and take the object they chose, so they leave with a piece of me.
Isn’t it a sad thought, thinking about the moment after your death?
Not at all. The idea makes me happy. I think it’s fun. I still have a long life ahead of me, but I’m a Virgo — I like to be prepared.
It’s also a very Russian way of thinking, which is quite different from other ways of thinking. Maybe that’s where some of my more unusual ideas come from.
Even at fashion shows, I notice I think differently. While other people talk about evening gowns, I might be fixated on a T-shirt from a particular look. I have a very specific way of selecting things, and I forget everything else. I know exactly what I like — it makes my life easier.
When did you first become aware of your own sense of style?
My mother sent me to London to learn English, and I would spend the whole month of August on Carnaby Street, where I saw all the things we didn’t have in Paris — things I wanted but didn’t have. I didn’t have much money, but it opened my mind to fashion.
Carnaby Street at that time was a revelation; it was the best place. Just to look at all the people, all the colors. It gave me the idea to dress the way I liked, differently from the lycée — I was at a girls’ school with strict dressing rules.
My parents gave me complete freedom. After that time in London, I started going more and more to flea markets, buying vintage clothes or searching for specific pieces at Inno Passy that were hard to find. That’s how I discovered fashion and created my own sense of style. I never copied anyone.
People think of me as a frightening person, but those who work with me know that’s not true — I’m actually very kind. I’m just very shy.
Now, you have an instantly recognizable signature look — pencil skirt, T-shirt, and heels. How did that iconic personal look come about?
Don’t ask me if I am an icon. I hate that question. Tom Ford is an icon. Karl Lagerfeld is an icon. There are many people who call me an icon, and then I think: “An icon of what?” I like punkish bourgeois; that is my signature style — a tight skirt, a T-shirt, heels, same hair, same makeup.
It’s the look I had when I started working at Vogue. Before that, I wore jeans, boots, and T-shirts like the other girls. But at Vogue, all the assistants and interns dressed the same, and I realized I had to look different. Being the only one in a skirt made a difference.
I started wearing high heels when I met Mario Testino, because he is very tall. With heels, you’re taller, you can look people in the eye. It gave me a strength I didn’t have before.
You’ve mentioned that this personal look is also an armor. What did that armor give you that you might not have had otherwise?
It is an armor. It gives you an attitude. For me, it was about feeling stronger.
An armor is not the most comfortable thing, but Karl [Lagerfeld] told me that the moment you start wearing Uggs, it’s the end. Now it’s my uniform. People recognize me this way — and they want to see me this way.
Like you say, people want to see you this way — they see you as a character. How do you balance being perceived as a character with staying your true, authentic self?
Sometimes you don’t know if you are playing a role or if you become that person. Here on Avenue Montaigne, people often come up to me saying: “Carine, you’re my biggest icon, let’s take a selfie.” In that moment, I become that person. I don’t know if it happens naturally or if I become someone else. But honestly, it’s my nature now.
I’m the only one who looks this way. A lot of people try to copy my attitude, but I didn’t create it — it’s just my way of being. There are many “look-a-like Carines,” but they are not very subtle.
Apart from your distinct personal look, you also have a very particular vision, a distinct eye. How would you describe that vision?
When I worked on the Gucci images with Mario Testino and Tom Ford, people started calling me the Queen of Porno Chic. There is the word “chic” in it, and it’s very difficult to stay on that line. A lot of people tried to copy us, but they did it wrong — the images became too cheesy. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s just my way of thinking, but I always stayed on the right side of that line.
In our pictures, there was always something subtle. Today, there is no subtlety anymore. You need that subtle intelligence.
Sometimes you don’t know if you are playing a role or if you become that person.
You’ve said that a good fashion image is one that lasts. How do you create such an image?
To me, the woman is more important than the fashion. My favorite images are never really about fashion. The idea comes from the model — from her attitude, her posture. If you want to make a story, you have to focus on the woman and adapt the fashion to her.
A good image is defined by its character. An image is good when someone wants to hang it on the wall at home. It’s not just about fashion; it’s about something else. There is always an element of “something wrong” in it.
For example, there was one story we did for Vogue Paris. There was a lot of controversy around fur, with PETA protesters demonstrating even during shows. So we created a story with Mario Testino about a girl in fur, and protesters holding signs saying “Fur is dead.” The model showed a middle finger towards the protesters, which to me was a way of saying: “You have to pay attention.” The people at PETA didn’t understand what I was trying to say; they didn’t have a sense of humor. We even had to have a bodyguard in the office.
It’s also how the G-spot image came together. I was the only one who wanted to do it. I felt we needed something more disturbing. At that time, the G-spot was being discussed on television a lot, and I thought: “Why don’t we shave the letter G in her pubic hair?” In the end it became a huge success — so many artists were inspired by it.
No.
Which specific image or moment do you think best represents your vision?
I am about simplicity in fashion. Before Vogue, I did a story for Glamour France with Mario Testino and Christy Turlington. We were shooting in New York, and Christy was sitting on a chair in a black T-shirt — nothing special — when I suddenly thought: “We have to play with a Chanel bag.” So we styled it like a necklace. We made Chanel punk, just with a black T-shirt and a bag.
This is what I like. It’s about the idea. Give me a simple T-shirt, and I can create many things from it.
Karl told me: “Whenever you are doing something, you have to be the first one.” With many stories, I was the first to do it. I was the first to put a Black transgender model on the cover of Vogue.
With Mario Testino, we did a story with Kate Moss as a sportswoman — mixing fashion and sport — and people from Nike told me it was the first time anyone had used a sport element in a fashion story. I didn’t even know.
With Steven Klein, I put Michèle Lamy in a story with high jewelry from Place Vendôme. It was a risk — my president at the time, Xavier Romatet, was afraid we would lose the jewelry advertisers, but we didn’t. When I put Halima [Aden], a Muslim girl wearing a hijab, on the cover of CR Fashion Book, I got killed in France.
I never had fear in that sense; I just followed my instincts.
Because it is dangerous. There is always a sense of something a bit dangerous, a bit irreverent. The editor-in-chief of Vogue at that time was very brave. People thought his pictures were too provocative, but she pushed for them to be published in the magazine. Now, all these photos are in museums, which means they are amazing images.
I always loved what Helmut Newton was doing — not to copy him, but it was my way of seeing a woman. When I was at Vogue, we made a big anniversary issue where we placed images by Guy Bourdin and Helmut Newton next to the images we had just shot, and they felt similar. It made me very happy because my goal was to go back to that time, to the moment when Vogue was irreverent, and we succeeded. In those images, the woman is always in power.
What is behind your desire to portray women that way?
I really respect women, and I want them to look strong. Women are very strong. Even today, women are used in advertising, dressed in bikinis to sell products — whether to sell to other women or to men, it’s everything I hate. I don’t like that kind of sexuality. I want a model to look comfortable and fearless.
How do you work with models in that sense?
I always treat the model as an actress, and I think models love to be actresses; they love to play a story. Most of my shoots are stories, and there is always a bit of me inside them. It is my way of doing fashion — I like to let models play characters and build a narrative.
I have worked with so many different types of beauty, but I prefer models who are completely different from me. I love Lara Stone because, to me, she’s a modern Marilyn Monroe. She is very sensitive, but there is also something strong at her core. I love her for that. I can change all the fashion around the character in front of me.
Lara has something deeply emotional that I find very compelling. I love a body like hers. She is more voluptuous — she has breasts — to me, she is like a painting. I like working with women who are different from me because they look like paintings, and I love looking at paintings.
What do you see as the role of a fashion magazine? Is it to create a space for dreaming, or to translate the runway into reality?
I want to do both.
I think fashion doesn’t leave much space for dreaming anymore because there are so many restrictions. Even at shows. Back when I was editor-in-chief of Vogue Paris, there were always students waiting at the entrance of shows because I could bring some of them in. Nowadays, that wouldn’t be possible anymore. I love having young people who love fashion at shows, because they bring the mood, they bring the vibe. Now people don’t clap, there is no feeling, no atmosphere — I don’t think the right people are invited. I would love to change the whole front row.
A fashion magazine shouldn’t be a catalogue of items; we should find a way to let people dream. I think dreaming is good. Karl told me, “Madame Roitfeld, you are very naive.” I thought he meant I was stupid, but he said, “No, you are not stupid, on the contrary. You are dreaming of a world, and in doing so, you are giving me ideas.”
I am a dreamer, and I am very lucky to be one. I believe it is a huge gift.
A fashion magazine shouldn’t be a catalogue of items; we should find a way to let people dream. I am a dreamer. I believe it is a huge gift.
CR Fashion Book’s latest issue was titled “Reinvention.” In your editor’s note, you describe reinvention as the ‘courage to look at the past, understand it, and create differently.’ If you look at your own past, how are you reinventing yourself today?
I don’t try to reinvent myself — it’s too late to reinvent me. But I try to stay faithful to my ideas and to my way of working in fashion.
I am lucky, because unlike many people, I have met a lot of geniuses and worked with them. When you have that experience, it becomes difficult to accept what people nowadays call genius.
I am going to be tougher and tougher on the things I like. I am wiser, cooler; I understand things better now. In the next [CR Fashion Book] issue, we are going to tell the truth. We may not please all the advertisers, but I want to stay faithful to myself. It might not be very political, but I am not a politician•
This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.
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