The Rake

So it was that on the Day of Our Lord the Eighth of December, Two Thousand and Twenty-Four, I found myself reciting the Shepard’s Prayer. Specifically, the same prayer recited by the astronaut Alan Shepard while he lay 83 feet off the ground, in his Mercury-Redstone 3 rocket, with the eyes of the United States and much of the world watching as he prepared to light the fuse on his boosters, smash through the stratosphere, and become the first American in space: “Dear Lord, please don’t let me fuck up.” I was embarking on the kind of adventure from which there is no return: the institution known as marriage. Which, in some ways, was surprising to me, as just a few years earlier I had sworn off all long-term relationships,…

As noted by our fearless founder on the previous page, I joined him in Los Angeles at the end of last year to celebrate his nuptials. My professional relationship with Tinseltown has always been a tad dysfunctional. On one hand it is the source of great discomfort and tension (booking covers is always a sensitive operation and negotiation); on the other, the place has allowed this magazine to thrive in a complex and competitive market, and it is a place that I have, over the years, fallen in love with, even without being able to wrap my head around it. That is another reason why watching the dreadful fires of January eviscerate swathes of this magical city has been such a grievous experience. L.A. is meant to be a beacon,…

brian bowen smith Brian, who was born and raised in New York, became a professional photographer via a less-than-traditional route. After catching the eye of Herb Ritts while performing as a pro athlete in a print campaign, the legendary photographer became a friend and mentor, helping Brian find his personal photographic style. He has been working steadily ever since, shooting for countless publications and commercial clients, as well as publishing two books and focusing heavily on his fine art photography. Brian lives in L.A. with his wife and young son, and when he is not working you will find him surfing, snowboarding or riding his motorcycle. He has made a welcome return to The Rake for this issue, shooting our cover star, actress Liv Tyler, for the story that begins…

There has never — or so it’s tempting to surmise — been an outfit so chillingly emblematic of its owner as the double-breasted Chanel suit famously worn by Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis during the swearing-in as president of Lyndon B. Johnson aboard Air Force One at Dallas Love Field on November 22, 1963. Designed by Chanel but made in candy-pink wool bouclé by the New York outfitter Chez Ninon — thus honouring both the trends that had shaped her when studying in Paris in her youth and the tradition that First Ladies wore clothing made in America — the suit epitomised the classical dynamism at the core of her style smarts. Having just hours earlier been splashed with the blood of her husband, John F. Kennedy, as the pair were transported…

Royal Enfield Classic 650 New for 2025, Royal Enfield’s Classic 650 takes the Indian brand’s time-honoured, early 20th-century silhouette and updates it with a thumping 650cc twin engine, large drilled disk brakes and Showa suspension. It’s available in a range of colours, but the chrome, black and gold finish is a particularly stylish way to travel. Chopard Alpine Eagle 41 A modern interpretation of the Chopard St. Moritz watch created in 1980 by the brand’s now co-president Karl-Friedrich Scheufele, the Alpine Eagle is a thoroughly modern sports watch with an eighties flavour. It comes with a beautifully finished integrated bracelet, exposed screws on its large bezel, and a pine-green dial that references the eagle’s iris. Its 41mm size is the ideal middle ground, and will suit a wide variety of…

Some time in the late 1980s, I went to see Nina Simone at Ronnie Scott’s. It wasn’t without a certain amount of trepidation. Her residencies at the club had yielded numerous tales of erratic behaviour, including pugilistic audience interactions and random walk-offs, which served only to burnish her legend. She’d been a piano prodigy, the High Priestess of Soul, a righteous testifier at the blazing heart of America’s civil rights movement, and, latterly, a wandering exile from her homeland and seemingly, taking into account her well-documented struggles with her mental health, from herself. Which Nina would we get tonight? The entrance of ‘Miss Simone’ — as everyone addressed her, like an honorific — was dramatic enough: led on in a white fur coat and feathered plumes, she gripped the grand…