Although he is a little absurd, a little style-over-everything, it shames me to admit that he is monumentally sexy. No wonder men, women, children and chiens fling themselves at him as he jogs up and down the Seine near his Left Bank apartment. 'When I am on stage I must not tire easily so the running helps a lot.' He is a proper pin-up in France, having appeared in countless Chanel campaigns since Lagerfeld discovered him in 2008, as well as many of the maestro's catwalk shows and photo shoots, the latter done mainly in the buff.
He saunters into The River Café early on a bright February morning, fresh from Claridge's and gleaming with the miracle of youth, hair wax, silver chains, rings, belts and a vast watch by Richard Mille for whom he is an ambassador. 'I was given my first watch, a Rolex Submariner, as a present,' he says, 'which was excellent as I had wanted one since I was 16. Now I have about 20 watches.' Would it be mean-spirited to point out that, even so, he is 20 minutes late? But I forgive him.
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