Daniel Roseberry on Life as an American in Paris
Schiaparelli Creative Director Daniel Roseberry is finally diving headfirst into his new life in Paris.
Thank Gene Kelly for the cliché of an American in Paris. The moniker was also a 1951 movie, inspired by the music of George Gershwin, in which Kelly plays a WWII vet pursuing his craft as a starving artist who unknowingly falls in love with the girlfriend of his French singer pal. Today, American Daniel Roseberry finds himself following his love of fashion and art in different circumstances as he helms one of the most famous French haute couture houses, Schiaparelli. While navigating both his professional and personal life in the French capital since 2019, Roseberry has gracefully managed to eschew most stereotypes associated with the condition of being an American in Paris or, for that matter, a Frenchman in Paris. But even the poised, thoughtful, handsome, and well-spoken designer admits he doesn’t always succeed.
L’OFFICIEL spoke to Roseberry on a late July Friday afternoon in Paris via Zoom—an often lonely place for those still stuck in the city in the summer, like Roseberry, who was wrapping up some fittings. He admits to being astounded by one Parisian folkway: “It’s shocking how no one is here on the weekend. Everyone leaves, literally.”
Rewind to a few weeks earlier, when Paris was at its best. Roseberry had just shown his Fall/Winter 2022 Haute Couture show and celebrated the opening of Shocking! The Surreal World of Elsa Schiaparelli at the Musée des Arts Décoratifs. A mashup of parents, siblings, nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles, and cousins showed up to support the designer, which turned into a family reunion.
“If you ask them whether they’re surprised that this opportunity happened to me, I don’t think my family would say they were. They’re deeply moved every time they come here and see their family member’s work shown in Paris,” says Roseberry, adding, “It’s special for me as a reminder of how extraordinary and special this is. It’s absolutely a pinch-me moment.”
In lieu of playing tour guide, Roseberry gathered family and friends from New York and Los Angeles for a meal. “It was 40 people at a dinner table at the new hotel Chateau Voltaire, which has this LA house party thing going on.”
It was most likely also more guest-ready than the designer’s apartment in the 7eme with a view of Basilica Saint Clotilde, a reassuring sight for Roseberry, who grew up the son of an Episcopalian priest who then joined the Anglican church when Roseberry was in high school. If recognized in his quartier, the French turn on their typical laissez-faire attitude, letting the designer remain largely anonymous.
With its open courtyard and window views out of reach, Roseberry finds solace and privacy, a place to unwind or spend a carefree weekend day. “Sundays are always sacred. I almost never make plans because I end up canceling them,” he says, sounding very much like the French. “It’s an oasis for me. I’m by myself in my space, and I haven’t entertained though I am slowly starting to accumulate things.”
Like many design hounds in Paris, the creative treks to Paul Bert Serpette in Saint-Ouen, one of the city’s most sought-after Marché Aux Puces, or flea markets. He goes at least once a month looking for objets, seeking to build his home design language. The day after we spoke, he went in search of his favorite find: lamps and lighting fixtures.
“I am obsessed with lighting and normally end up buying some sort of lamp,” says the designer, citing a 1970s Maison Jansen floor lamp as an example. “But it was a weird, imperfect, imitation of one. I prefer the stalls outside. Those inside tend to be fancier and a little too serious for me.”
Building a design language at work has come naturally for Roseberry. He was determined not to rely on Schiaparelli’s rich archives upon arriving. Now, after giving the brand some breathing room, he’s found his ground with the legacy of Elsa Schiaparelli.
“If we were to do a lobster dress tomorrow, we have the creative authority to do that, whereas, in the beginning, I needed to establish my voice,” he says. Despite its lack of storied archives, there is a similarity in the work he did at Thom Browne.
“It’s a dance; it’s organic but something I don’t try to control. Sometimes Schiaparelli feels relevant, and other times like another direction.”
Treading lightly would also describe Roseberry’s foray into French culture, though museums have become favorite Parisian pastimes; notably the Celoron exhibit at the Centre Pompidou and the Louis Vuitton Foundation. “Sometimes I go to the Musée Rodin and sit in the park to unwind,” he notes.
Roseberry has yet to master the French language or dive into pop culture besides fashion and food. “When I first moved here, I was wrestling with the language, and a dear friend and mentor said to me, ‘Anyone can move to Paris and learn French, but not everyone can revive a sleeping French couture house,’” he recalls, noting that he understands a lot but hasn’t started speaking yet.
The designer admits he was tempted to be an archetype of a French couturier. “I have these delusions of grandeur about how I will wake up and leave the house one day dressed like a young Yves Saint Laurent: black turtleneck, long pants, and smoking a cigarette,” he says. “At the end of the day, I come back to the same things: my denim-on-denim Texas tuxedo walking up to the Place Vendôme with my backpack. It’s a source of comfort to maintain. I love putting on my clothes from before I had this job; they’re like old friends.”
Roseberry spent his life preparing to become a fashion designer, but not necessarily one living in France. “I don’t know if I dared to dream of Paris and couture, but I grew up in one of New York fashion’s Golden Ages,” recounts the 36-year-old designer. His middle and high school years were marked by the days when Michael Kors designed Celine, Marc Jacobs was at Louis Vuitton, and the remake of The Thomas Crown Affair reignited an interest in men’s fashion with his former employer, Thom Browne, as other designers like Adam Kimmel emerged.
“There was a lot of glamour associated with being an American designer at that time. My dilemma in life as a young person was not my creative destiny; it was more about my sexuality growing up in the church. That was the cloud over me,” he confesses. “It wasn’t, ‘How am I going to be a designer?’ I was always the hardest worker, putting in time on the weekends when no one else was.”
This work ethic is one reason Roseberry landed at Thom Browne after dropping out of FIT in 2008, where he stayed until his appointment at Schiaparelli in 2019. During his time at Browne, the designer traveled to Paris at least four times a year for seven years.
As a New Yorker with southern roots, Roseberry didn’t find Paris particularly intimidating, but he did find it somewhat hard to connect with. “I need the extroversion of an insane city pace to bring me out of my shell. In general, I can be quite reserved. I think the energy of Manhattan, the pace, and the melting pot brought me out of myself. Paris is reserved, icy, and closed. That’s my beef with Paris; it’s not intimidation. Maybe it should be? Personality wise I feel like we are ships passing in the night,” he further offers.
That said, Roseberry has decided to commit to the City of Lights beyond his professional gig. During his first and second years at Schiaparelli, he traveled between the two fashion capitals quite extensively. “I got burnt out, and now that travel has opened back up, it’s become more and more hellish. Going back and forth during COVID was a dream!” he says of the periods when terminals and planes were ghost towns.
“I think I miss a New York that may not exist anymore,” he admits, noting nostalgia for his old life and friends who departed the city during the pandemic. He suggests the Parisian outlook was catching up to him.
“What I love about Paris is it’s my place where I am creatively productive. When I am away for too long, I miss the creativity, the team, and the process. Whatever differences I have with her as a city, she has been extremely generous to me; given me a Maison with a team and support to be the backdrop to this creative journey,” he says.
The Schiaparelli team holds a special place for Roseberry. “Behind the pride of the people who live here beats the heart of people who will do anything for beauty. The team is devoted and dedicated to the pursuit of excelling and beauty; they earn their right to be proud.”
As much as Paris is the place he creates, he hasn’t adapted to recharging there (and no, sketching in the Tuileries doesn’t count because it’s work time). Instead, Roseberry will look forward to his summer escape of preference in Maine.
“A few times a year, I need to spend five days or more in a natural setting, whether inland or the coast. Kayaking in the morning on the lake by myself—truly that is my idea of heaven,” he says. There, the designer can compartmentalize and forget about work to be present in nature.
Kelly’s lovestruck An American in Paris character insists Paris never lets go of you. He says in the film, “It’s too real and too beautiful. It never lets you forget anything. It reaches in and opens you wide, and you stay that way.”
So, while he may leave his work at the office, Roseberry acknowledges Paris has already left a profound impression on him. “Paris, when she wants to show up and be beautiful for you, the level of beauty is truly surprising. It never gets old. Walking over the Seine when the sun is setting through the Tuileries still surprises me every time.”