A conversation with one of menswear's great, early street style photographers

We talk with Jonathan Daniel Pryce about social media and fashion, vulnerability with men, living in his grandfather's old home in solitude, photographing Rick Owens, his favorite work, and more.

You just had to be there

Early street-style photography was something else (shoutout to the originator of it all, the beloved Bill Cunningham).

But by early, we’re referring to the WordPress and Tumblr days.

You know? That window of time, between 2005 and 2013, when street style felt innocent and pure.

No one was planning their outfits for the ‘Gram.

They weren’t dreaming about Zoodboards.

It was The Sartorialist’s Scott Schuman and Toronto’s Tommy Ton on the flicks, and when you saw those two, you knew it was somehow going to end up on the front page of GQ.com.

Some consider those eight precious years to be the last best years of street fashion, at least organically.

But when you think back to that era, there was another OG who’s notorious for hiding in the alleys and streets, ready to snap you shagging a cig between shows. And he’s endured all trends and algorithms to date.

That man is Jonathan Daniel Pryce of GarçonJon.

JDP is a London-based photographer and creative specializing in fashion and street photography, and some of his clients are heavy hitters, from Vogue and GQ to Esquire and Mr Porter.

Jonathan’s keen eye is built around subtle details in every shot he captures, while the colors of his images are memorable. 

We sat down with the man himself to talk about those early days, how social media has shaped the fashion landscape since, printing coffee table books of his own work, reconnecting to his lineage by living in his grandfather’s (who’s now passed) house, a new project he’s working on to help men become more vulnerable, and much more.

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You’ve been snapping photos pre-IG. What was that like? What’s changed in fashion as a whole?

It’s been wild observing the changes in the industry over the past 15 years. I started shooting as blogs were beginning to gain traction. Of course, early adopters were using digital media, so it felt like a small community of creatives excited to share ideas.

As it’s grown, I would say from 2015 onwards, it’s homogenized. The average person is more educated on what a quality photograph is. In terms of the fashion industry, it’s democratized, which can be shown perfectly with what happened in street style. 

I started my first street style blog in 2006 and then got swept into the wave of success around documenting international fashion weeks. I got my first gig shooting for Vogue because an editor at Vogue Hommes saw my work, liked it, and asked me to shoot for them the following season. I only had one camera lens at that point. It all felt very organic. Street style was the zeitgeist.

I shot fashion weeks every season for a decade, and the popularity grew so much that unknown people with great styles became stars in their own right. Brands dress attendees in complete looks to photograph on the street before the show. That felt exciting at first but very quickly felt cynical and redundant.

What’s happened since is personal style influencers fulfill that role, meaning someone is sent a look and will create their content. It isn’t so attached to the show season itself. Fashion week still plays an integral role, and as we saw with COVID, the internet can never replace the experience of being in person, having a real conversation, and being present at an event. I still love street photography—I’ve always gravitated to the work of Joel Meyerowitz, Saul Leiter, Garry Winogrand, and William Klein.

Photographers that we can look back on and see how each decade is defined by looking at what happens in public life. Tommy Ton, Scott Schuman, Adam Katz Sinding, Kuba Dabrowski, and Yu Fujiwara are still doing great work documenting the street, and I love seeing what they find.

What was the process of creating your book? How were you able to narrow down the images that you wanted to include?

Publishing ‘Garçon Style’, my last book, was a huge undertaking. I’d already published two books previously (100 Beards, 100 Days, 2013 & Gentlemen, 2015), but this was a much denser project. When the publisher approached me, I’d been shooting street style at Fashion Week for Vogue Magazine for about seven years, and the idea of the book was to pick the best imagery from New York, Milan, London, and Paris. I created a shortlist of around 10,000 images, but over the year of pulling it together, I kept creating new work as I traveled.

As ‘Garçon Style’ wasn’t about trends, it could stand alone as a somewhat timeless piece about men in the West. I’m attracted to classic, personal style rather than quickly consumable products.

For example—a businessman in a double-breasted suit in Milan or a guy with worn-down vintage double denim in New York. That’s where my eye always goes. I intended to show the city's essence at the start of the 21st century and look at character studies.

I also chose a few men from each city to interview and show a few of their outfits. I love hearing stories—it’s a real driver when taking photos. The camera allows me into homes and hear family history. Hopefully, that's felt in the book. Overall, it took about three years to produce, from inception to publication date, and I’m proud of the outcome.

Can you tell us more about Passing Place? What was your relationship like with your grandfather?

My grandfather passed away in 2019, and his house was lying empty when the covid lockdowns hit, so I moved in. It was mixed emotions moving from London, my home for a decade, to rural Scotland. I was never close to my grandparents growing up. They were deeply religious, and my grandfather was a Presbyterian minister, so he had very conservative views.

I got to know and understand the man after his death, as his house was still full of a lifetime of possessions. I found bibles with notes, old clothes, trinkets from his childhood, and diaries. It was like I was meeting him properly for the first time. 

I began to follow the same walks he did and went down trails where he marked on maps he’d left behind. I spoke with neighbors and people in the congregation about who he was. It was interesting to build a picture of someone different from the character I’d experienced.

As part of all this, I began photographing the local area and people who knew him. I lived there for nearly two years and shot thousands of images. It’s deeply personal work, so it’s been hard to go through the photos and reflect on what that time meant to me. I’m currently collating the images to put into a new book.

I feel like I found a new part of myself in the journey.

We don’t think men’s inclusivity is talked about much, especially in the fashion space. Can you share more about your series on nudes and men being more vulnerable? What’s the narrative you’d like to change or a new perspective?

Yes, I agree. The narrative around celebrating diversity in women’s bodies has moved to the forefront, rightfully so—and long overdue. I don’t see that same conversation as much with men.

On social media, I’ve seen several “before and after” posts where a man will get jacked, often while openly taking steroids, and there’s a lot of positive feedback for this. Of course, also “perfection” is celebrated and rewarded. 

Over the past few years, I feel this trend is increasing, and at times it’s hurt my self-perception. I’ve thought, if I was 15 today, how would I see myself? Not worthy if I don’t fit this very narrow standard of beauty. 

At the start of 2022, I began talking to friends and colleagues about this and then began working on a series of nudes looking at body image. I’ve shot about 50 men in LA, London, and NYC, discussing their relationship with their image. It’s been a revelation to me., honestly. It's an ongoing project, and I’ve not released any photos yet.

But in 2024, I want to complete the series in a few more cities. The process has helped me to be gentler and less critical of myself. I’m hoping it will have that effect on others. It’s an age-old thought, but there is strength in our differences and vulnerabilities. It would be nice to provide evidence for this to other people.

Your podcast, Photographic Memory, has intriguing guests and you speak with them about images that influenced their journey. What are some notable images that have influenced yours?

I’ve loved working on that podcast. It started during lockdown in 2020 as I missed the interaction I got on shoots. Quite a few listeners asked me the same question about my influences, so I did an episode on that.

When I was 19, I found a book of Amy Arbus’ work that she shot for the Village Voice in the 1980s and 90s at Strand Books in New York. On the cover is an image of Madonna in the East Village from 1983, and that photograph stuck with me. It started me thinking about how I could document the people of Glasgow when I was at university.

That influenced me a great deal.

In one episode of the podcast, I interviewed Nadav Kander. He’s a photographer I’ve always loved. I discovered his artwork for the Placebo record when I was a teenager, and they’ve always stuck with me.

Who’s your style icon? Who’s the easiest person to photograph and why?

I’m into that relaxed 90s style that’s all over the internet. I loved the old photos of John F. Kennedy jr in his casual looks. Classic George Michael style at the airport in the early 90s. Black tee, leather jacket, and jeans. I think Albert Muziquis is my current fave on Instagram.

I photographed Rick Owens this year, and it was a real treat. He’s someone who knows who he is and has a distinctive look. I love people who know themselves and are at complete ease with that.

Tell us more about menswear and manufacturing. What have you learned since documenting processes and techniques in the UK?

I started this project in 2014 when there was a lot of discussion about factories closing in the UK. By that point, it dwindled. You’d go to Marks and Spencer, and clothing used to be made in Britain.

When I went through my grandparent's possessions after their death—I found wooly jumpers, overcoats, clothes hangers, light bulbs, power cords, and even the vacuum cleaner, which all said ‘Made in Great Britain’ on them.

In the process, I found denim in Wales with Hiut, shirting in England with Margaret Howell and Turnbull & Asser, Johnston’s of Elgin and Malloch’s knitwear all made in Scotland, along with Hancock Vulcanized jackets. There are a lot of high-quality items still made in the UK, especially with smaller brands, and my experience is they're easier to care for and last longer. 

We launched a publication showcasing all the talent in collaboration with Private White VC, which manufactures near Manchester, England. It was a lot of fun learning about that process, leading to another long-term project with Woolmark documenting the tailors of Savile Row. It highlighted to me how important it is to support local craft.

What’s your favorite city to photograph and why?

This is a frequent question I get, and my answer constantly changes. In an obvious way, Paris is always a winner. The uniform beauty of Haussmann’s vision for Paris means it’s easy to find something spectacular. But also French culture focuses on quality—the boulangerie, the theatre, the wine, the craftsmanship—it’s all engrained in the French way of life.

The first time I took a trip to Italy to take photos in my early 20s, I was struck by how different light affects an image. It’s something you can’t fabricate.

Growing up in Scotland, I was used to gloomy, grey days, and there’s beauty to that, but when I got to Rome when the afternoon light filled the sky with a warm glow, I was astounded. I love Italy—Florence and Rome are clear favorites, but Milan is bold and dynamic.

I didn’t travel much as a young person. We didn’t go on international holidays throughout my childhood, so I think that’s created a wonder in me whenever I travel. Diana Vreeland was right—The Eye Has to Travel.

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