Jeremy Langmead

Rare are the businesses which bring something new.

Rarer, the businesses which make you categorise their industry before & after their arrival.

Rarest the business which transforms what we think a particular industry is. Creating a culture which is soon aped by all those around it.

Businesses whilst the vessel, are only as good as the people that ‘serve’ and shape them.

All of this was running through my head last week as I left Shepherds Bush station and dashed inside Westfield Shopping Centre. 

Dashing to take the lift up, dashing to cross through the barriers of the ‘Yoox Net-a-Porter’ group.

I was there to see Mr Porter’s Brand and Content director, Jeremy Langmead, who from Sunday Times Style through to Wallpaper, Esquire, Christies, The Times ‘Luxx’ and Mr Porter, has inarguably changed the way that men and women consume media and shop.

Jeremy also directly helped create and shape the business and lifestyle aesthetic which has defined this century.  Clean and crisp design, often white backgrounds with well lit photos and careful words. It is still the way to do business for many. It allows products and stories to be heard and applauded, for good work to be celebrated.

Well done, it still is as striking as a Caruso St John staircase. Badly done, well it’s all a bit bejewelled and crystal’d like a dodgy Instagram lifestyle quote. 

What is especially clever is that it protects itself, because whilst hooking yourself up to that vision is seen as an easy way to get ahead, there is no room for error. No hiding places and well, it is so difficult to get right.

Jeremy is also committed to story telling in all of its forms. With a firm understanding of the importance of beautiful words and photography, stylish videos which make you laugh and smile, of treating your reader, viewer, customer as intelligent. 

In 2007, as I was about to open my first store, through the letterbox came the latest issue of Esquire, Langmead’s first as editor. New size, Michelle Pfeiffer on the cover peering round the edge of an Arne Jacobson chair, it hinted at a slightly more grown up take on men’s magazines.

Now, men’s magazines are often maligned, mostly rightly so, but there have been moments of genius, and this was one of them. Just as the world was about to financially implode, this, a new way of doing things. A return not so much to the written word heyday of mid century, but a mix of intelligent comment, witty story telling, clever photography, and a sense of style and sex. 

A magazine aimed at people who had a life, were partaking in society, enjoyed fun, and well didn’t need to read the magazine, they just wanted to. 

Monthly, each issue would drop onto the store’s doormat, and I’d read in between customers or on the early train to London. 

And then, Jeremy left, to go to this thing, a website not yet launched called Mr Porter? 

The launch or perhaps the first conversation about Mr Porter was the men’s fashion industries walking on the moon moment. If you were in the industry you remember where you were when you heard about it

My first conversation was in a Parisian showroom, where I, as a person who owned and ran an online store, was buying next season’s collections. During this appointment, the elephant, was discussed, and our general consensus was that it wouldn’t work. Whilst the marketplace was growing there were already too many stores and the economy was unstable. Oh and people wanted certain things which were difficult to scale etc, etc, etc.

This opinion wasn’t misplaced bravado nor the brave face of someone who behind closed doors was concerned I genuinely, for many a reason, wasn’t sure it would work.

The past 9 years have slightly proved me wrong, because Mr Porter isn’t a simple male clone of Net-A-Porter. Instead they stand together, yet separate and different, two of the world’s most forward thinking retail and media businesses.

From a retail perspective, building, running and growing a successful online retail business isn’t simply the digital version of opening up a space, stocking some product and selling. It’s far more nuanced than what we now call ‘bricks and mortar’ retail. The logistics alone are frightening, and it isn’t just something which requires large amounts of money, because even then it can go spectacularly wrong.

To build, run and grow online retail, alongside being in essence a magazine publisher, is even tougher. To do all of this using pretty much solely original content is extraordinary. 

Because, and I may be guessing, if you’re on this website, there is a chance that you might like reading about men’s clothing, food, booze or just some inane wittering’s, and of course there are apparently other websites, no idea of their names…

It’s just Mr Porter is Mr Porter. Even I bow down to its editorial prowess. I do, pretty much every day via the abstractly named Daily or the weekly Journal. Both of which offer consistent visions of modern male life. Either the one you lead, perhaps the one you would like to lead, or one at complete odds with your daily grind but utterly fascinating. All written and photographed exclusively for them. 

For me that’s the kicker, because, the easiest thing, I know this because people tell me constantly, is to take a press release, add some images supplied by the brand and publish.

This gets a brands message across, is cheap and brings even cheaper, essentially free traffic to the site, which in turn drives sales and makes all happy. So why not do it?

That question is one I ask myself daily. Not so much about Mr Porter, but about what I do, and why. For richer or poorer, each image on this site was taken by me, each word typed by me. I find the idea of using someone else’s images or words disrespectful, because if you can’t do it yourself, or at least commission someone to do it, how can you possibly ask anyone to buy into your vision?

Now, commission and write daily? Wow.

But to do so with such a broad palate of topics, brands and individuals to cover, and to create articles which perhaps whilst not relevant to everyone are interesting to most, that makes my brain hurt. That is a commitment to the power of story telling. 

Because at its heart, Mr Porter, their buy and their editorial output, is a collection of niches.

For example, in less than two months Christmas will have been, and as ever I will have struggled to buy for a couple of people, two in particular. Both highly successful but complete opposites. One a clad only in black and boots, superstar graphic whizz. The other, well I don’t really know what he does, but it’s important and to do with saving the world whilst cycling and wearing expensive stuff. 

Both, sorry lads for spoiler, will get Mr Porter vouchers. Each will be able to indulge their niche, able to impress friends, colleagues and the wider world with where they shop. 

And when they are shopping, they can learn about why prosecco is rivalling champagne this winter, or delve into world of Snoopy and his literary fans, pick up some restaurant recommendations and even find some grooming products which their far better halves might want to pinch. 

What they won’t, which is where I believe Jeremy Langmead is at his strongest, is feel like they are being patronised or being sold something. Because of course, this is a business, but they never make it feel like one.

Of course all of this is amusing, because once you’ve negotiated the YNAP reception, playing a mixture of Shabba Ranks & Beyoncé, headed up the escalator, asked for a glass of water and turned right, you’re confronted by row after row of white desks and large monitors. The office equipment versions of Mr Porter packaging, glass box meeting rooms and at the back one large glass fronted office with some chairs in front of it. 

Jeremy was sat in one of these chairs, and after the usual pleasantries, which are the sign of British greetings, led me clad in grey flannel trousers, black oxfords and a navy blue cashmere jumper to the office to talk properly.

The outfit was significant, because if you’re in ‘that’ position and at ‘that’ company, what you wear matters surely? In this case, it was as Jeremy is generally, a sign of what Mr Porter stands for. Perhaps the most Mr Porter outfit. Clean, elegant, well made, fairly understated – albeit expensively so, The website itself writ large in wool and leather. 

And as I said before, the best businesses and publications are just the vessel. They are always the model of their editor.

Warm, inclusive and engaging, I like Jeremy, and I can see why people want to work for and with him. He has this very charming, almost comforting and quite English manner. If he didn’t exist, you’d imagine that David Hare or William Boyd would have to create him.

Again, maybe it’s me, or just the people we speak with, there is that sense of interest. Interest in what others are doing, in fact the majority of our time was spent talking about me. Something which I never need an excuse for but, in this instance, the questions posed got quickly to the heart of the matter.

We spoke of art, the importance of story telling, good books, the industry, the future, my move out of London, the merits and pitfalls of Country vs City living, how to balance the two  - it can be done – and the desire for time to think, time to feel, time to do. 

Of course, Jeremy is an old hand at that, many of us have marvelled at his housing renovations in the English countryside. With those just so interiors, again like the man, there’s substance and unlike the traditional British Country House a sense of warmth. 

We spoke of getting older, the pressures of modern life, male mental health. The wonderful realisation that your friends like you for you, and that’s ok. That you don’t have to go to every party. You can learn to say no, like you for you. 

Also, how the internet has changed the way we work and live, allowing many of us to spend time elsewhere, but also meaning that we relish moments with things of beauty more.

I had the feeling that if a crisis were to come, Jeremy would be your guy, That a rational solution would be found swiftly and with grace. 

After a few years at Mr Porter, Jeremy left for Christie’s; transforming their digital output, and producing a magazine in collaboration with David McKendrick of B.A.M which was informative, fun and the antithesis of the majority of art world publications. Split in two, it got to the heart of the matter quickly and skilfully. One half was a look at upcoming sales and auctions; the other, editorial features. Both were filled with beautiful photographs and clever words. It understood that those with an interest in art, were either highly knowledgeable already or filled with a desire to learn, and were not to be preached to. They also probably were time poor, and that time had to be spent richly.

All works of quality, both in terms of subject and application. 

It was the same when editing The Times’ Luxx magazine - of which he is now Editor at Large. I always knew when that was included with the Saturday paper as before I’d even gone to pick it up, there would be a text from a certain someone “nice IWC/Tudor/Bremont in today’s paper”. That then planted the seed in said person’s brain, which 6 months later would lead to a suggestion that they ought to buy one. All because the photography was good, the layout clever with it’s wonderful use of white space, almost acting like light boxes surrounding the images, and the story about each item well written and snappy. The tone aspirational but not pushy. 

Again the best publications are the model of their editor. 

Having reached end of Christie’s mission, Jeremy returned to Mr Porter. The brief slightly different, larger perhaps. The ambition certainly there, to inform, to amuse, to educate, to highlight important issues – recently launching the “Health In Mind” their campaign to help people lead happier, healthier lives. 

All of this is now undertaken by a team this is certainly larger than before, because when touring the offices from Mr Porter through to Net-A-Porter the other end, you realise how big this all is, but how astonishing that they manage to make it all feel so personal, like your own private conversation. 

A conversation had anywhere. On the tube, in the office, up a mountain, but one I think that preferably transports us to sat back at home with a decent cup of tea, loose leaf, hand made mug, connoisseur’s choice. Ready, armed with knowledge, to pick clothes that you’ll wear rather than style statements that will wear you. 

A conversation like the one I had over several hours with Jeremy, which leads you feeling enriched and hopeful for what comes next.

Our chat finished with that tour of the office, past the studios, across the floor and up the stairs. A tour which was taken not only to have a look round but also so that we could take a photo across the office. Just before taking photo, Jeremy removed his glasses, prompting us to talk about glasses brands and then the bag I was carrying. A conversation, about the things people wear and use just because they are good. Of value.

As ever I posed Jeremy a set of questions. His answers are as modern as they are traditional. All are routed in what’s good, what is filled with quality and what is worth your hard won time. 

Hello.

Why do you do what you do?

Because I love creating stories that inspire, inform and entertain.

Where’s home?

A small farm in the Lake District. As of this week.

What do you collect?

Bloomsbury artists; Truman Capote first editions; furniture

Any heroes?

Haile Selassie for style; Lady Ann Glenconner for fortitude 

Favourite dish?

Shepherd’s pie and peas

Hidden Gem?

The views of the Lake District from Scafell Pike; Flor restaurant in Borough Market; Robert Kime interiors store on Pimlico Road; Abbott and Holder - a picture dealer in Bloomsbury.

What’s underrated?

Good manners. And sharing your problems with friends. 

What’s next?

My own brand one day, I hope. British craftsmanship. 

Four items which sum up the UK….

Ventile, waterproofing at it’s best.

Waterproofs,

Dark humour,

Edward Green Desert Boots

Desert boots,

BBC Drama.