An afternoon of pleasant negotiation with actor, stealth musician, and Taylor Swift muse Joe Alwyn.
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Joe Alwyncurrently occupiesone of the strangest spaces in the greater celebrity matrix.
To Google him is to stare straight into the stan-culture abyss.
(From a recent piece inMr.
Porter: Well, do you like football?
Am I allowed to say those kinds of things?)
Yet he believes he has gotten better at the whole press thing over the years.
I dont think Idontenjoy interviews, he says carefully.
I think I have seemed guarded.
He definitely would like tonotseem so guarded in them.
So why would I not be like that?
Im not going to go over there and ask that woman about her personal life.
Actually, maybe you should, I suggest.
I mean, I might do later, he says, now looking cheered.
Ill just holler across the street.
I start with some simple questions When did he realize he wanted to act?
What was he like as a child?
See, these are the questions I find hard, he says.
I was on the introverted side but not a crippling introvert.
Like an extroverted introvert, he answers.
Alwyn says he secretly would look up drama schools online as a teenager.
Once in university, he applied to four and was rejected by all but one.
It was terrifying and surreal and happened so quickly, Alwyn remembers.
I thought you were attracted to my personality, he jokes half-heartedly.
Do you even have one?
replies Frances, who then looks equally humiliated.
Alwyn begins mock-pulling at his cheeks and widening his eyes at any talk of said face.
Two eyes, one nose, one mouth, he says.
I dont know what to say.
But did he relate to that moment with Nick and Frances?
Its not something I wrestled with, he says, studying me as he spoons up some steak tartare.
He tenses a bit.
What are you trying to get me to say about my face?
I explain that I have no specific face-related agenda, and he visibly relaxes.
No, sorry, Im sure, he says.
He got the part a week later.
Alwyns performance inConversationsis his best yet.
To be honest, I forget that other people will see it.
I assume Alwyn will give me one of his speak-arounds on the subject.
Instead, he leans forward, putting his English Channelswimming face back on.
What would you like to know?
He was merely messing around on the piano when Swift heard and walked over, intrigued.
He had been singing the fully formed first verse to the song that became Exile.
(Bon Iver handles the male vocals on the final version.)
It was completely off the cuff, an accident, he says, shrugging.
She said, Can we try and sit down and get to the end together?
And so we did.
It was as basic as some people made sourdough.
I press him on this point he wrote an entire verse to a Taylor Swift song without trying?
Who doesnt walk around the house singing?
I explain that its unusual for hit songs to spring forth like that from nonmusicians heads.
And so we got a guitar and did that.
So he went by William Bowery as a nod to his music-composer great-grandfather and the Manhattan street.
None of the other 30-somethings lunching at Fairfax seem to have any clue who he is.
I suppose its not as if youre Jennifer Lopez, I joke.
I beg to differ, he shoots back with a laugh.
I start to warm to Alwyn.
Weve finished our food, which means the moment weve both been dreading can no longer be avoided.
You have things you have to ask, says Alwyn, folding his hands together.
And Ill either choose to answer or not.
If the answer was yes, I wouldnt say.
If the answer is no, I wouldnt say.
Im struck briefly speechless.
It is perhaps the best non-answer I have ever received.
Youre not the first person to ask, he says.
His tone conveys that he understands I will also not be the last.
he says, laughing, looking both offended and delighted.
If thats not how everyone puts perfume on themselves, then Ive been lied to.
He suddenly remembers his professional obligations: Tom Fords amazing as a person.
He stands up and bids me a polite farewell.
Walking solo toward Tribeca, he is instantly snapped by the paparazzi.
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