Literary fame is normally measured in bestsellers, Pulitzer Prizes, and late appearances. But Patrick Radden Keefe, a writer at The New Yorker, has achieved a level of celebrity that most of his literary colleagues have probably never imagined: he’s been a fashion model.
Days into the new year, J. Crew published photos on Instagram of Mr. Keefe modeling the brand’s Harrington zip-up jacket, knee-length trench coat and suit and tie. Some of the outfits, like the trench coat over a navy blue suit and the brown-spotted tie, are quite “All the President’s Men,” giving the 48-year-old Keefe the image of a hard-nosed reporter.
Although Mr. Keefe described his modeling work as a “lark,” he is not the first New York luminary to model for a fashion label — and for a mall-based fashion label at that. In 1989, while contributing to The New Yorker for a year, Joan Didion wrote: modeled in a Gap ad alongside her daughter, Quintana Roo. The pair, in matching black turtlenecks, looked like the chicest beatniks on the block. Ms. Didion was simply billed as a “writer.”
On his Instagram, beneath Mr. Keefe’s images, J. Crew described him in loftier — but of course accurate — terms: “award-winning writer at The New Yorker and New York Times bestselling author.” “Say Nothing,” his nonfiction book about the troubles in Northern Ireland, was adapted into a Hulu series.
The literary bona fides of Mr. Keefe even seemed to be at the center of his call-out for J. Crew. “In some shots I’m holding a copy of The New Yorker,” Mr. Keefe said. He enjoyed paying for his employer. “If there’s a universe where you could find a potential reader in such a bizarre format,” he said, “then I’m up for it.”
Fashion brands often enlist citizens as representatives of their brands, especially lately. This past year, red-hot Italian brand Miu Miu sent retired septuagenarian doctor Qin Huilan onto the runway, and Loewe cast Sue Kroll, Amazon MGM Studios’ head of global marketing, in its ads.
Aimé Leon Dore, Drake’s and J. Crew have enlisted hairstylists, costume designers, professors, podcasters and advertising executives for their marketing campaigns. The thinking seems to be that professional models, with their shiny smiles and genetically blessed looks, are too polished.
But a man with a day job? That’s someone the audience can identify with. Bonus, for those who recognize him: Mr. Keefe is also undeniably ambitious.
In terms of messenger credibility, it doesn’t hurt that Mr. Keefe is a lifelong J. Crew wearer. “The oldest piece of clothing I have that I still wear is a J. Crew sweater that my mom gave me in the ’90s,” he said. “It doesn’t take much effort for me to put on an Oxford shirt and a pair of corduroys.”
The reviews of Mr. Keefe’s turn in front of the camera were favorable, if brutal. “The New Sign You Really Made in Journal Writing,” read one Tweet from a fellow journalist. The word “icon” was thrown around in the comments section of a J. Crew Instagram post with the photos. Another comment: “Hot.”
Here, in an interview that has been edited and condensed, Mr. Keefe discusses this career turn, what he thinks of the reaction it has generated, and whether he can keep one of the J. Crew threads.
How did you get this big modeling break?
I know a guy, Chris Black, who works with J. Crew – I don’t fully understand the capacity in which he works with them, but he does – and he introduced me.
Did you have to discuss it with someone at The New Yorker?
I received a funny note from Michael Goldsmith, my book publicist at Doubleday. I didn’t tell anyone, and he saw the pictures and said, “I think you have to contractually warn me that that’s going to happen.” But no, I haven’t talked to anyone at The New Yorker or anything like that.
Why do you think J. Crew cast you?
It’s in the genre of what if we had regular people, what if we had someone who isn’t a catalog model, who would do this kind of thing. They couldn’t get Daniel Craig, and they said, who’s next on our list?
When Joan Didion once starred in a Gap ad, did you feel like you were doing a Didion here, in the vein of the New Yorker writers who starred in ads for mall brands?
I don’t think I realized that about Didion. I wish I was haughty enough to rationalize it in those terms.
How did it feel to stand in front of the judging camera?
Surprisingly, it was fun. Some of this is just being a reporter in nature. If you drop me into a completely new situation, I’m going to talk to people and ask them about their work and their lives. So a lot of it was me talking to the stylists and talking to the man who spent more time on my hair than anyone in my life.
But I probably didn’t convey the full range of expressions and attitudes that you would get from someone who had some experience with this.
Have you had any input on your styling?
There were a few things I vetoed. I’m just not someone who will ever wear a brightly colored sweater around my neck.
So how close are these photos to how you actually dress?
Part of what’s funny about this whole experience is that I rarely leave the house at this point. I’ve been working on a book for the past year, so when I’m not reporting I’m at home every day in the same corduroys and hoodies. I dressed up as the person I would be if I ever left home. They kept giving me ties, and I haven’t worn a tie since long before the pandemic, but I had the muscle memory to know how to tie it.
What was your reaction to the comments?
My children mock me mercilessly. The photos came out well – I think – as someone who doesn’t necessarily take photos that well.
Did you get to keep the clothes?
I did. My son is almost as big as me, and he is now the proud owner of all the shirts I am wearing in those photos.
Besides some free gingham, did you get paid?
Yes. It was enough to count as a kind gesture. But I continue with my daily work.
So there’s no modeling agency knocking on your door?
So far it has been deafeningly quiet.
