I went through some tough times because if you're used to having a voice in contemporary culture and all of sudden, you don't have that voice, you don't have that outlet. I didn't appreciate that. I didn't understand how important that was to me. And all of a sudden, after investing all this time and energy, I had no identity. I didn't know who I was. I didn't know what I had to say. I didn't have a way to say it. It was very painful.

I love fashion. What I love is the ability to express yourself, to be able to make a product and shoot an ad campaign that tosses you out into the world and lets you have a voice in contemporary culture, iconography. I felt a little bit neutered not having that voice.

A few times in my life I've had moments of clarity where the silence drowns out the noise and I can feel rather than think.

My own skin-care ritual is quite simple and straightforward; I don't like a lot of fuss, surprisingly. My products are designed to make you look and feel better. I think there are a lot of men out there who want and need the same products.

My grandmother was probably the first person who I thought was beautiful. She was incredibly stylish, she had big hair, big cars. I was probably 3 years old, but she was like a cartoon character. She'd swoop into our lives with presents and boxes, and she always smelled great and looked great.

You have to be passionate, you have to be engaged and you have to be contributing to the world.

One of the most important things is to figure out what your look is — I don't wear this black suit-white shirt combination all the time to try and be iconic — but because I'm most comfortable in this. Cary Grant never turned up in a pink jacket and hot pants and I don't feel the need to experiment when I know I like dressing this way.