interview | claire holt

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bag. Valentino

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In Traces of Longing, a Schön! 48 editorial, photographer Weiyu Lin and art director and set designer Fei Yang craft a visual that shows every bag suspended in time: a soft, pearl-white CHANEL bag cascades into a constellation of sparkling confetti, while Valentino’s playful cherry-printed crossbody drips with nostalgia and sweetness. 

See the full editorial now in Schön! 48.

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bag. Tom Ford

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Get your print copy of Schön! 48 at Amazon Globally, Amazon Germany, Amazon France, Amazon Italy, Amazon Spain, Amazon Netherlands, Amazon Poland, Amazon Belgium, Amazon Sweden and the UK Schön! store.

Download your favourite cover now at the Schön! store.

This Schön! 48 editorial has been produced by

photography. Weiyu Lin
art direction + set design. Fei Yang

tank top. Calvin Klein
shorts. ZANKOV

tank top. Calvin Klein
shorts. ZANKOV

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Credits

To call Alexander Hodge a rising star would be an understatement. With a presence that feels both grounded and electric, the Chinese-Australian actor first caught the world’s attention as Andrew on HBO’s ‘Insecure’ — the calm, confident partner who instantly became a fan favourite (and is still affectionately referred to as “Asian Bae” by his fans). But to define Hodge by a single role would miss the point entirely. 

Born in Sydney to a Chinese father and Irish-Australian mother, Hodge’s path to Hollywood wasn’t exactly linear. A rugby injury nudged him toward the arts, and from there, he found power in performance — especially in roles that challenged the narrow depictions of Asian masculinity that dominated his youth. He’s been vocal about the need for authentic representation, calling out tokenism and pushing for characters with depth, vulnerability, and range.

Hodge opens up to Schön! about his career trajectory, his interest in genre-bending projects, his experiences working with masters like Edie Falco and Colman Domingo, and his multicultural identity in a candid and insightful conversation.

Fans still lovingly call you “Asian Bae” from your time on ‘Insecure’. How do you feel that role shaped your public image, and how have you evolved since then as an actor? Do you still get called “Asian Bae”?

Look, I think there are a lot worse things to be associated with than that role, that character, and that show. I loved my time on ‘Insecure’. I loved that character. I loved the way he reached people. I really have — and always will have — a deep gratitude towards the people of ‘Insecure’ and the time I spent on that show. I was young, 26, when I first appeared, and those were the first few years of my career. I’m really grateful that this is how things began.

It’s something that people still find impactful and meaningful, and the fact that it still resonates today — that’s something I’m very thankful for. Look, if that ends up being the highest height my career ever reaches, I’ll still be very happy. But I’m also thankful that I’ve continued to work and progress since then.

Yeah, and also it’s been kind of almost ten years, right? It’s been nine years since the show premiered, I think.

Yeah, it’s been nine years. I felt really old just then — if you were gonna say ten, I might’ve lost it. But no, not quite!

Can you tell me about ‘Garden Society’? You recently joined it—what can you tell us about this new project and the character you play in it?

Yeah, ‘Grosse Pointe Garden Society‘ is something that I think makes network TV great. That’s its strength. Shows like this haven’t really been on our TVs for a while — since streaming got big and a lot changed in the industry. Network television itself has changed a lot over the last ten years. I think ‘Garden Society’ is the kind of show that brings people together around a house. It’s something people watch in groups. It’s similar to Insecure in that way—there was so much conversation around the story and characters.

I call it “anthemic” because it’s designed to be experienced in the community. It’s not meant to be consumed alone. It’s rewarding when you watch it with friends or family, because then you can talk about each character—who’s being a shitty person or a good person, who’s changing from episode to episode and making you like them more or less. And on top of that, the scandal—the murder and crime elements—are playful and fun. To me, that’s what makes network TV great.

I also did a little research before the interview, and it seems like you love breaking genre moulds. From ‘Joyride’ to ‘Wellmania and ‘Skater’, you’ve taken on some bold roles. What excites you most about projects like that, which push traditional boundaries?

It’s a convenient way to pitch something. It helps executives understand what they’re buying into. But as a consumer or viewer, genre can be restrictive. Our favourite comedies can teach us something deep. Our most serious dramas can still be funny. They can have levity and pathos. I think that reflects real life—the duality of things. I can remember the worst times in my life, and still laugh about how ridiculous my situation was. And I’ve had great days that ended with my motorbike breaking down. There’s always that juxtaposition. So I think challenging genre confines is important — it makes the work feel more real, more relatable, more multidimensional.

jacket. Polo Ralph Lauren
tank top. Calvin Klein
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jacket. Polo Ralph Lauren
tank top. Calvin Klein

jacket. Polo Ralph Lauren
tank top. Calvin Klein
opposite
jacket. Polo Ralph Lauren
tank top. Calvin Klein

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You also star alongside major talents like Edie Falco and Colman Domingo. What have you learned from working with such seasoned actors? Working with legends like that must be wild.

Some of my favourite stories came from my time with Edie Falco. She would share these incredible battle stories from ‘The Sopranos’ and ‘Nurse Jackie’. I learned so much about James Gandolfini from her anecdotes. But more than that, Edie on set was one of the most relaxed actors I’ve ever seen. She was completely unfazed, even in stressful situations. I learned how to treat this like a job, to know what I’m there for, and to really understand my place in the room. Edie was so great at knowing her job — what she was there to do and what she was being paid for.

Colman is another version of that. He understands his own essence and his strengths in any room. He has this infectious energy, this zest for life, that just rubs off on you. From him, I learned to give myself permission to be playful, to feel young, to be less serious. When I was younger, I had this intense drive to be a “serious actor” — that struggling, indie artist kind of thing. I identified with that angst and restlessness. But now, in my early thirties, I think more about playing. I want to bring childlike curiosity to what I do. And seeing these incredible professionals who are also playful, light, and full of joy — that changed my approach.

It almost sounds like an experimental approach to performance—maybe that’s the best way to do it.

Exactly. This job isn’t like a traditional corporate job with a fixed structure. You can land a huge opportunity at any moment. So there’s a lot of trial and error—you have to see what works for you.

What works today might not work tomorrow. So you need the elasticity to rearrange yourself or recalibrate depending on what the moment requires—whether it’s a comedic scene, a dramatic one, or something else entirely. You’re not the same person every day, and no one else on set is either. One day your scene partner might need something totally different from you. Or the director might. Maybe one day you don’t crack any jokes, and the next you do—just to get through the 13th hour of the day. It’s about adaptability in both craft and personality.

You grew up in Australia, played rugby, and trained in martial arts. Do those physical disciplines influence your acting — presence, focus, choreography maybe?

Yeah, definitely. I grew up playing rugby and I still box today. I train at a boxing gym. It’s always important to maintain a deep understanding of your physical instrument—your body. That’s something I learned from theatre school too. How your body moves, how it communicates—that’s essential, especially on camera. Even when it comes to tension, like when there’s something brewing in a boxing gym or on a rugby field, understanding that kind of physical anticipation adds to performance.

For this show, we’re working on some fight scenes. My character doesn’t know how to fight, so we’ve been playing with that. I know how someone would throw a punch, and I know how someone wouldn’t—so I can layer that into the performance and storytelling.

I also thought martial arts and acting both require discipline — so maybe that’s another connection?

That’s so true. Actually, acting helps my boxing too. When I’m sparring, I can fall into rigidity because of my athletic background — I’m used to being coached and following instructions. But sparring with someone new is unpredictable.

Acting has trained me to be present. In boxing, if you’re not present, you’ll probably get your nose broken. (laughs) But that presence — that improvisation — helps in both worlds. Between “action” and “cut,” no one’s guiding you. You have to respond to what’s in front of you, to your scene partner.

But martial arts stays as a hobby, right? Not something you would ever do professionally?

Absolutely not. I’m too involved, too slow, and honestly, I’m too precious about my face. (laughs) I’d have a losing record! No professional ambitions in that area—don’t worry.

You trained at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts and were part of the ABC Talent Showcase. How did those experiences prepare you for where you are now?

You’ve really done your homework! Theatre gave me a solid foundation — discipline, voice work, physical movement, technical awareness. But beyond that, it gave me deep script analysis skills and an appreciation for history and storytelling. Yes, there’s raw talent and instinct, but backing that up with craft is essential. Whether it’s formal education or personal study, there’s a lot to be said for humbling yourself and continuing to learn.

The ABC Disney Showcase taught me to trust myself—to believe in what makes me different. Out of 10,000 people auditioning, most can say the lines. The difference is why you say them the way you do. Maybe it’s because I played rugby, or because I love cooking—whatever it is, that unique life experience comes through in performance.

So being unique moves you to the front of the line, maybe?

Yeah, I guess. I mean, I’m a little hesitant to use the word “unique” because I don’t think it’s something you can really mine. I don’t think you go out searching for uniqueness. In my experience, it’s more about relaxing—reclining—into yourself. It’s about stopping the search for something outside the bounds of who you already are, and instead going inward. Understanding and embracing that version of yourself, rather than trying to chase anything else. You’re not trying to give the De Niro version, or the Jennifer Lawrence version—you’re giving the version that’s uniquely you. And I think that’s something society doesn’t always encourage us to do. But it’s probably the most honest and powerful thing you can offer.

Do you gravitate toward one type of project more than another? Or is the story always what draws you in—because your credits span both indie gems and big mainstream hits?

I think my career reflects that I was, for a long time, chasing status or chasing an ideal. That’s why I’ve done a bit of everything—network TV, cable, indie films, studio films, theatre. It’s like, if there was a type of work out there, I probably tried to do a version of it. At the time, I think I was chasing someone else’s career. I had this idea of what I was supposed to be or who I wanted to emulate. But now, the number one thing I look for is the people involved.

Is this a group of people I want to spend six, eight, ten months—or even years—with? And if not, then there has to be another reason to do it. Either it’s so creatively fulfilling that it can’t be ignored, or it pays me really well. (laughs) At this point in my life, what matters most is two things: time and happiness. If I’m going to dedicate my time to something, it needs to make me happy. When I was younger, I’d watch a movie and think, “I’m supposed to be in a Paul Thomas Anderson film,” or “I’m supposed to be in a Wong Kar Wai movie.” But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve let go of that ego. I realised—maybe I’m just supposed to be me, and that will resonate somewhere. And if it does, great. If it doesn’t, I’ll still continue to be that person.

So your other priorities—like your sense of ego—have shifted a bit in recent years?

Yeah, I’d say so. I think the last few years have really humbled me. As I’ve grown older and gone through some personal things, I’ve realised how much of my energy used to go into chasing the audience of thousands. I was so focused on legacy, on doing something meaningful, on leaving a mark. Then I got to therapy and kind of realised—why was I so obsessed with the audience of thousands? What was wrong with the audience of three? What’s wrong with meaning something to the people who mean the most to you? And once I landed on that, I’ve been really okay with it ever since.

coat. Louis Vuitton
t-shirt. Paly Hollywood
trousers. Stylist’s Own
boots. Talent’s Own
opposite
knit tank. ZANKOV
shirt (on chair). Aknvas
jeans. Agol

coat. Louis Vuitton
t-shirt. Paly Hollywood
trousers. Stylist’s Own
boots. Talent’s Own
opposite
knit tank. ZANKOV
shirt (on chair). Aknvas
jeans. Agol

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Credits

As an actor of Chinese and Irish descent, how do you navigate representation and identity in the industry? Do you feel like the landscape is shifting meaningfully—or maybe not so much?

Thankfully, there aren’t that many Chinese-Irish-Australian actors out there, so if someone’s looking for one, I’ll probably be one of the first phone calls. (laughs) But seriously, the story of representation is a complicated one. I can’t control whether people identify with me or not. Maybe Australians do. Maybe Chinese people do. Maybe Irish people do—or maybe none of them do. Maybe mixed-race people see themselves in me—or maybe they don’t. Representation, at its core, is really about commonality. It’s about seeing something in someone else that reflects something in you. I might be representing people who don’t look like me at all, but if I’ve shown up authentically, and that somehow gave someone visibility or validation—then I’ve done my part. I’m passionate about the Asian community, the third-culture community, the Australian community… even communities I’m not necessarily a part of. But the most important thing is being authentic.

You hinted earlier at how hard it is to even talk about representation nowadays. Were you going to say more about that?

Yeah… It’s really hard to have a conversation these days—about anything. It sucks that people who don’t agree can’t even talk to each other anymore. The hope, to me, is the ability to break bread. I know I’m speaking vaguely, but it’s hard to be specific because the problem is systemic. It’s cultural. It’s that we don’t even agree on facts anymore. Everyone picks and chooses where they get their information from—whether it’s cultural, scientific, medical, political.
So when we use words like “diversity” or “representation,” they mean different things to different people. That makes it impossible to have a sincere conversation. I just wish we could all gather at one table and start with a shared language or some rhetorical common ground. Then we could actually go somewhere with these conversations.

Because right now, if I say “inclusion,” someone else might say “reverse racism.” If I say “representation,” someone else might say, “Well, only 1.4% of that ethnicity exists in this country—why should they be overrepresented?” But 1.4% isn’t zero. It still matters. The fact that these words trigger so many different interpretations shows how difficult it’s become to talk meaningfully about these things.

You’ve worked across continents—from the US to Australia. Do you notice any major differences in storytelling cultures or production environments?

(laughs) You’re trying to get me in trouble. I think it’s great that production is global now. The pandemic and the strikes forced a lot of lateral thinking, which ended up creating more jobs around the world. That’s a good thing. Eventually, I think it’ll lead to a more democratic approach to storytelling. But for now, the US is still far and away the number one when it comes to production. Maybe the UK or Europe is a close second.

I haven’t worked in India or China or Nigeria, so I can’t speak to those industries. But based on my experience, American-run productions have always been the benchmark. That said, I love working in other countries. South African crews, Australian crews, Irish crews—I’ve worked with so many brilliant teams. The culture in each place influences the work in exciting ways. In the US, it’s very much “live to work.” Everything revolves around work. In other countries, like, I’ve worked somewhere where I couldn’t reach anyone from Friday night to Monday morning. They just don’t answer work emails on weekends. (laughs) It just differs. Every place has its own rhythm.

Yeah, I think the US still leads the way, but that doesn’t mean other countries aren’t doing incredible things too.

Totally. And if we wanted to get into the deeper reasons why the US holds that top spot—well, that’s where history and capitalism come into play. The US rewards effort. When you give 100%, the system is designed to give back to you in some way. And that’s part of why it thrives.

sweater + button down. Polo Ralph Lauren
jacket + trousers. Dolce & Gabbana
tie. Louis Vuitton

sweater + button down. Polo Ralph Lauren
jacket + trousers. Dolce & Gabbana
tie. Louis Vuitton

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Credits

photography. Cody Lidtke
fashion. Nicholas MacKinnon
talent. Alexander Hodge
grooming. Monica Alvarez
interview. Alper Kurtel

Some goals seem out of reach until someone dares to try. For Faith Kipyegon, that dare is a moonshot — bold, improbable, and history-making. This summer, the Kenyan champion and world record holder will attempt to do what no woman has ever done: run a mile in under four minutes. Backed by Nike in a campaign fittingly named Breaking4, Kipyegon’s pursuit isn’t just about chasing a time. Instead, it’s about breaking through a barrier long considered impossible.

“I’m a three-time Olympic champion. I’ve achieved World Championship titles. I thought, What else? Why not dream outside the box?” states Kipyegon. “And I told myself, ‘If you believe in yourself, and your team believes in you, you can do it.’” Kipyegon, who is a Kenya native and mother to a young daughter, will have to surpass her current world record of 4:07.64 by at least 7.65 seconds. It is a monumental task that would require nearly two seconds faster per lap. No woman has ever come closer and no challenge looms larger in middle-distance running.

Thankfully, Kipyegon isn’t chasing this alone. Nike, her longstanding partner of 16 years, is mobilising every tool in its arsenal to support her journey — from footwear innovation and aerodynamics to physiology, apparel design, and psychological readiness. The date and location, which is June 26 at Stade Charléty in Paris, have been carefully chosen to align with her peak performance window.

The mile is more than just a race. For decades, it has represented the outer edge of human performance that was first shattered by Roger Bannister in 1954 and immortalised in athletic lore ever since. But while hundreds of men have joined the sub-four-minute club, no woman ever has. Kipyegon’s decision to pursue this feat stems not from necessity, but from ambition. “I want this attempt to say to women, ‘You can dream and make your dreams valid,’” she says. Already the most decorated woman in her discipline, she’s choosing to chase something that’s never been done — not to prove herself, but to expand the horizon for every woman who follows. “This is the way to go as women, to push boundaries and dream big.”

Her effort stands as a call to athletes of all backgrounds to take risks, reimagine possibility, and believe in their power to shape history. The moment isn’t just personal; it’s generational. Aptly, her daughter will be there at the finish line, representing both her inspiration and the legacy she hopes to pass forward. “This is the way to go as women, to push boundaries and dream big,” she explains.

It’s a belief that Elliott Hill, President & CEO, NIKE, Inc., is in total agreement with. “Faith is a once-in-a-generation talent, and her audacious goal is exactly what Nike stands for,” says Hill“Breaking4 is the kind of bold dream we will do everything in our power to make real — helping both elite and everyday athletes to believe anything is possible. No other brand can offer the level of expertise, innovation and support that our Nike teams can. Alongside Faith, our innovators are breaking barriers by combining cutting-edge sport science with revolutionary footwear and apparel innovation to help her achieve a truly historic goal.”

Nike’s investment in Breaking4 extends beyond the athlete. It speaks to the brand’s identity — born from runners, built to empower them, and rooted in breaking down limits. From their earliest innovations to defining moments like Joan Benoit Samuelson’s marathon gold in 1984 and Kipchoge’s Breaking2 achievement, Nike has continually pushed the envelope. “Advanced innovation at Nike is driven by a deep commitment to partnering with athletes like Faith, turning dreams into dares and dares into destiny,” says John Hoke, Chief Innovation Officer. “This courageous attempt at breaking a monumental boundary embodies the alchemy of art, science and athlete, resetting ambitions and amplifying impact. Together with athletes, we approach problems systemically, creatively and parametrically — no problem too large, no detail too small. As always, we stand in awe of helping athletes achieve greatness.”

It’s a sentiment that Tanya Hvizdak, VP of Global Sports Marketing also believes in. “For more than 50 years, Nike has made athletes’ dreams real by helping them redefine barriers and achieve the impossible,” explains Hvizdak. “Faith epitomizes everything we love about sport and the belief we have in our athletes. Her moonshot continues our legacy of supporting bold, pioneering pursuits that move the world forward through the power of sport.”

Although this attempt may not be officially ratified — details around pacers, footwear, and race format are still being finalised — the goal remains clear: set the stage for possibility, not perfection. And whether Kipyegon crosses the line in under four minutes or simply comes closer than anyone in history, one thing is certain: she will have already succeeded in redefining what women in sports can dare to dream.

Learn more at Nike.com.