Thirty years ago Chris Hewson was drawing shapes with crayons in his childhood bedroom. Twenty years ago he was presenting womenswear at TFW and a nightlife fixture. Ten years ago he started making waves at big brands, creating emotive retail experiences while quietly designing intimate spaces for friends. A forced pause during the 2020 lockdown - his first in decades - found Chris drafting the blueprint for his next chapter: everything, everywhere, all at once. Tofu Jones sits down with the polymath as he shares what’s lighting him up.
TOFU JONES: Designer, Stylist, Merchandiser, Creative Director. You’ve worn several hats in your career, which one fits the best?
CHRIS HEWSON: None of them really fit. When I was in my early 20’s, I would have said designer - full stop. But that wasn’t really the case. I would be draping a gown, imaging the model posing in the campaign shot and the copy on the ad; thinking about how it would look in the store while dreaming about the customer sitting down to dinner and what the room looked like, how the table was laid… on and on. I was working as a creative director with a fantastic team, but I was daydreaming of visual merchandising, styling, marketing. I felt constricted - I didn’t really understand intellectually how I could hold all of those things - be all of those things - while leading this team, designing this gown.
TJ: You weren’t just designing the gown -
CH: Exactly. I was designing the journey of the gown - from sketch, to runway, to campaign, to window, to store, to customer and the environment and context of each of those stages.
TJ: That’s a lot. What changed for you?
CH: I had been changing my jobs every couple of years - creative director, then fashion stylist, I worked across stores as a visual merchandiser then, designing interiors. All separate. I completely siloed myself from one job to the next, and while each was a great learning experience, I inevitably got restless looking for my next challenge. It wasn’t until I was forced to stop that I began to look inwardly and connect the dots. I wasn’t bringing my full-self to anything. I was covertly compartmentalizing. So, I decided to stop.
TJ: And so now you do everything you want?
CH: I wish! I’m very fortunate to be able to follow my ambitions, bring all that I’m passionate about into my work. I’m also lucky to have clients find me and what I do valueable, while respecting that I’m likely working simultaneously on wildly different projects. I’m curious still. I reach out and ask for more - if something is interesting, I have no ego stopping me from pursuing it, or asking an expert if I can shadow them.
TJ: Really?
CH: Yes. I recently spent a couple of days with a cabinet maker watching him join. It was such an incredible experience. The patience, the finesse of craft. Incredible. Am I going to add joiner or cabinet making to my services? Probably not. But that does that mean I shouldn’t have made that journey? I’m so glad it did.
TJ: Where do you work best?
CH: Emotionally - in collaboration. Physically - everywhere. Mostly in airport lounges and my kitchen. I love working in my kitchen - the energy is great. I light candles and burn incense. I sit at a small vintage marble and iron garden table from Garde in L.A., on a Xavier Pauchard “Chaise A” I sprayed white. It’s a hard seat for long stretches, so I draped a shearling over it to make it more comfortable. I bought it from a guy outside a gas station in Sirdal and packed it in my carry-on. If I need to spread out, I highjack the big replica boulanger table I got while at RH.
TJ: You mentioned incense. Do you have a favourite scent?
CH: I’m very moody and often seasonal with my preferences. I tend to lean into woods - they remind me of nature and my childhood - summers nights roasting marshmallows over a campfire, that sort of thing. I burn Atelier de Balthus daily for a productive atmosphere, Namche Bazaar if food is in the mix. Campagne d’Italie for romance - the candle, not incense. Peyote Poem is spring. My go-to for every season/occasion is Feu de Bois, which always smells like a warm embrace.
TJ: Did you study design formally?
CH: Yes, briefly. I was studying Art and Architecture at UofT - which was honestly fantastic for a time - but dropped out because it wasn’t moving fast enough for me. I was insatiable (and young) and wanted to learn at a much quicker pace to begin the fun stuff - the work. So - frustrated - I left to get on with the doing.
TJ: How is AI impacting your work?
CH: Immensely. But disproportionately in my favour. So much of what I do is about connection. Connecting people to places, customers to brands. AI cannot authentically connect. It seems to be able to frame taste, but it does not have a point of view. It cannot contextualize visual storytelling in emotion, so it cannot express taste. I could go on and on..
TJ: Please - AI is impacting creatives across many industries and most of the discourse is negative.
CH: Clients hire designers, creatives, etc. for practical reasons - they need a job done by someone with the experience and expertise to execute. Plugging in data and prompts to AI could potentially yield solutions that could meet the practical need of a client - I’m thinking perhaps a furniture layout - but it even with robust data and precise prompts from the client, it lacks the experience to anticipate. An example would be an experienced designer hearing how their client’s elderly parent joins them each Sunday for lunch, and knowing that the low-profile mid-century seating their clients want will need to be augmented by a higher, firmer chair to ensure that their parent can comfortably get in and back out of that chair. It is experience that allows for the designer to anticipate and better meet the needs of their client.
TJ: Fascinating.
CH: Clients also hire designers for intangible reasons; they are attracted to their point of view, their taste, perhaps their previous work looks similar to what the client wants for themselves. It’s interesting when clients share AI generated images that inspire them - it’s often a fantasy space, very much out-of-reality. In discussion of translating that, it usually comes down to details the client doesn’t see that become a part of the brief. As AI cannot experience the physical as a person, it cannot create solutions that connect.
TJ: Embarking on a new project can be thrilling and daunting. Do you have any advise for those staring at a blank page?
CH: Agreed. Thrilling and daunting are perfect words here. It is thrilling to start anew, but with seemingly endless possibilities, it can be daunting - overwhelm comes easily. I think the good news is we're rarely faced with a truly blank page. Great design is born from great story telling, and we all have a story to tell. Distilling personal experiences or brand history into something tangible and executable is a journey of discovery. In my experience, cutting through the noise comes down to authenticity. It is my job to uncover that authentic story and tell it in the most compelling way possible.
TJ: How do you do that?
CH: Openness and curiosity. Honestly, it’s never the same. My process starts with understanding the who before the what. I’m trying to uncover what I call “the essential” - it’s that key which unlocks either the whole, or works as a through-line for connecting the pieces. Rarely do I focus on just one element. I often find that ‘essential’ can take many forms and not all of them intermingle cohesively. I like the challenge of combining seemingly disparate elements. It somehow seems more human. The juxtaposition of worn and new, traditional and modern, spare and lush - elements that reflect past experiences and future hopes - all of which creates a framework for great storytelling. The resulting combination - which I often unravel and repack in my kitchen - provides a visual dialog, adding to the narrative as the project unfolds.
CHRIS AT EIGHT photographed in New York | MICHAEL HEWSON
TJ: What’s something you want to see more of in design?
CH: Hooks! It’s become something of running joke at this point - I feel like I’m in constant need of a hook: fitting rooms, restaurant tables, guest rooms. We need more hooks!
TJ: What’s something you want to see less of?
CH: Future-proofing. It smells like fear to me. Some of the emotional work I do with clients is unravelling the anxiety around making choices that benefit some fictional future user. Like ‘I won’t paint my dining room the bold colour I really want, because it won’t be good for resale’. No thank you.
TJ: Why do you think we do that? Attempt to future-proof our spaces?
CH: I think the homogeny and sameness is an expression of fear. Culturally, we love a trend. We love to see a thing grow and iterate as it expands - we collectively jump on the bandwagon until it reaches a critical mass and becomes passé. Then we’re over it and we jump off onto something else. It’s an endless cycle. But we stop it through authenticity. If we choose the things that we love, no matter what others think, we break that cycle by not jumping on the bandwagon. I’m allergic to the idea of creating something to satisfy anyone but my clients. My goal, no matter who I’m working with, is to delight my client. It’s why I centre them in the process - I’m not selling a look - I’m uncovering my client’s desires and creating solutions specifically for them. It can be a slow process - I’m not click and collect, so less immediately satisfying than hiring someone to execute a trend you’re jumping on - but the result is a deeper connection. Fear plays no part in that, so it is much more satisfying in the long-run.
TJ: What or who is inspiring you lately?
CH: So much. Rufus Martin’s sculptures and Travis Shilling's paintings. Wandering around Power Plant. Marfa Stance - thrilled with their 'men’s launch. BrasaaÄ«'s photos of Paris - I recently found a book of his I thought I lost. My pup Franny. Wayne McGregor (I’m still ruminating on MADDADDAM). I’m looking forward to seeing Kaari Upson’s retrospective at Louisiana.
TJ: Do you have a favourite project?
CH: Always the next one.