FADE IN:
[ home of Bent, MARCH 24th 2026 ]
BLURRED BORDERS, SECOND TIME AROUND
[ home of Bent, MARCH 24th 2026 ]
BLURRED BORDERS, SECOND TIME AROUND
[ As soon as Bent steps foot into the bedroom, the garments piled in wardrobes and hung on clothing rails no longer appear dormant. The vigour with which the door was answered he carries with him every step of the way. His movements tell that neither the space nor its contents has any secrets for him. There is no sense of holding back. Conversing about clothing feels like second nature, at any given moment ready to deep-dive into the lot of fabrics. A natural flair that is innate to him. ]
DISSOLVE TO:
WARDROBE
BENT
It took me a fair time to get to where I am now, clothing-wise, this tailored yet rugged look I’ve landed on over the years – it wasn’t until I was in my 30s and I found myself in Paris, where I came across my first Oxford shirt. Being in Paris at that age, I allowed myself to rediscover who I was. That’s when I stumbled upon this style of shirt, simple button-downs, but a coup de foudre which never left me since. Those shirts were and still are my holy grail, something I invest in to this day. It is the garment every outfit starts with; the most instinctive one. The majority of items I coveted back then were way out of my budget. But I told myself that one day I would own at least one of them. One such piece is my by far most meaningful blazer, my first Harris tweed. It won’t fit as it used to anymore, but I’ll forever hold on to it for its meaning.
[ Reminiscing on Paris, Bent — in passing — touches on growing up. Still just a young boy, he already recognised the value of exploring his own sartorial world. The fortitude and earnestness with which he tells so resolutely about directing his own narrative – rather than sheepishly following that of others – shows in his every word and gesture, carefully chosen yet bold and witty. He speaks with remarkable candour about what, at times, must have made for some thorny situations. ]
BENT
I was willing to take the beating because I knew what it was about. New clothes were not a thing I knew; I had to make do with hand-me-downs only. There was no autonomy in picking my own clothes. In turn, they never felt like mine, because they weren’t. I still recall how utterly disorientating it felt to put on someone else’s clothes. Despite this, or maybe precisely because of it, clothing was something I was extremely aware of. For as long as I can remember, I observed how people dressed. Over the years, I created a mental databank of all the marvels that I saw. In kindergarten, someone’s father wore these humongous jazz-type pants, an image that stayed with me ever since. And so, I would ask my mom to make me these outlandish costumes. For example, I vividly remember dressing up in wooden shoes filled with straw, clogs complemented by a straw hat. But never intended just for playing dress-up like other kids might have done. No, I’d venture out to school dressed like this. Even if it would be met with violence or come down to being ridiculed.
[ As Bent unravels his ‘battle dress’ childhood endeavours, gestures tell of his internal making sense of it all. Outwardly, he presents as adamant, but even he is still connecting some dots between little Bent and Bent today. But only in slivers of a moment is this noticeable; his body language doesn't give away much. Pointing at the top shelf – slightly bent under the weight of bagged-up clothes – surfaces the difference between him and his stage persona as part of Belgian pop group ‘Das Pop’, through which his love of dressing up lives on into his adult life. ]
BENT
This buttercup-yellow suit was the first on-stage outfit I had made, lightly inspired by 70s Bowie. For me, there is a clear distinction between my performance stuff and my day-to-day wardrobe. Not that it is that much more outrageous – some of it could blend into my ‘normal’ attire – but it is chosen with a different image in mind. What you wear on stage somehow needs to stand out; it is part of the show, so naturally I gravitate towards more colours and prints, a tad bolder than usual. I’m also the band’s designated stylist, ensuring a cohesive look. Movement was another facet I took into account from the very start. More than in my daily life, I consciously consider the range of motion an outfit will allow me. Shoes-wise, by trial-and-error, I’ve learned this comes down to a certain lightness, nothing too bulky or chunky-feeling yet firm.
[ Having addressed shirts and suits, Bent naturally transitions to ties, the finishing touch, pulling out from his wardrobe a jumble of vertical strips of fabric in all sorts of colours, prints, and materials. In the most loving way, he flings this brimming patchwork onto the bed and starts rummaging around in search of a specific one, all the while initiating a self-reflection on the start of his tie intrigue, as if taking mental note of the conversation’s flow. ]
BENT
I must have been around seven when my grandmother taught me how to tie a tie. Her husband, my granddad, was always dressed in suits and tweed. Now that I think about it, this might be where I got it from, unconsciously. Aha, found it! Knitted ties. There is something particular to them. Classic as they are, they fit in this Ivy League-style story. For me, they are also very much connected to literature, an item worn by both writers and characters. Although the things I’ve shown so far are quite classic, I’d say I love to be louder than very classic in my choices, clashing prints and patterns. Clothing is something to be enjoyed, something you are allowed to have fun with. Too often still is it considered frivolity, ridiculed, laughed away, even. When, actually, what you end up wearing can shape your whole day. I can see the beauty in having a curated uniform that works for you. However, for the moment, I’m still having too much fun to land on one such look. I’ll keep playing for now, but maybe one day what is now still a constant curation might result in a uniform of my own. I’ve narrowed it down hugely, already.
[ With an unseen pace and guided by muscle memory, he interchanges his tie. Clearly, he’s done this before. As an interlude, his right hand clasps onto his left wrist, home to one of his modest collection of two watches. Momentarily caught up in his own thoughts, Bent then reaches across the room; joining the ties on the bed is a selection of hats, seconds ago still tucked away in a bottom corner of the near floor-to-ceiling wardrobe. ]
BENT
Hats give me a certain sense of comfort, but even more than that, they are a way to punctuate what you are trying to do or get at with your outfit. Nevertheless, for the longest time, hats were a difficult matter for me. They only really reentered my life after meeting a milliner and a now-friend in Florence. During my dressing-up era as a child, hats were a crucial part of the outfit. This friend, well, he made me rediscover them. In a way, he gave or assured me permission anew to wear a hat. At the end of the day, it is nothing more than another piece of clothing. It took me until then to realise I could just wear them, so I did and still do.
[ The aptness with which he handles their shaped matter, especially of a classic fedora, is of a rare innate quality. Hand atop and one leg crossed in front of the other, he makes it look ever so easy and casual, as he does tailoring overall – by far the most comprehensive category of his wardrobe, most of which is displayed on the clothing rail standing between him and the wall adjacent to the living room. Overcome with keenness, he dips in and out of the shoulder-to-shoulder blazers, jackets, and suits sorted in no particular order. ]
BENT
When it comes to suits, there is little difference for me from how others interact with tracksuits. Similar to their line of reasoning, I consider suits as something I can do anything in. And not because I was taught so; apart from my grandad, my surroundings were sparse on occasion wear. I learnt as I went, picking up on this tailoring language. However, I don’t cling to one type of tailoring. I’m quite keen on crossovers and a good twist. But it can be tricky to find tailors willing to deviate from the classic. Not that all are custom-made, several are vintage. I’d say my entire wardrobe is a 60-40 divide between vintage and new items. In most cases, fabric is the decisive factor; when you feel it, you know. And, of course, there is the allure and story such pieces carry.
[ An avid advocate for vintage, Bent elaborates on the value of lived-in items, seemingly reliving the moments and instances in which he stumbled upon some of his own treasured finds. A sparkle is noticeable in both his eyes and voice. ]
BENT
Part of the charm is getting swept up in the history and the story that is already there, the charge that clothes cover, which you can almost physically feel. And subsequently, the ability to make that garment yours, to add your own little twist to its already existing narrative. Making it part of your own. Leather jackets aren’t something that heavily feature in my wardrobe, but I do have a vintage one. We were recording an album in LA at the time, and whenever we drove to the studio, we would pass this one vintage store. At one point, I tried on this horse leather jacket, which stayed on my mind for the remainder of our trip. By the end, despite it almost literally falling apart because it had been so well-loved, I decided to get it anyway. It was magical enough to take home. I don’t wear it regularly, but I have a thing with celebrating milestones through clothing. In this case, the record in LA. On my mind now is my first fully bespoke suit for my 50th birthday this year. With that one, especially, it is about so much more than the final result. The experience and process are as much a part of the joy and anticipation as the actual outcome.
[ Literally turning his back to the clothing rails, Bent crosses back over to the still open wardrobes on the opposite side of the room. Hands on his hips, he takes in the knitted scenery laid out in front of him. Debating which piece to take off the shelves, his hands graze over an array of different ones – haphazardly, yet ever so tenderly. ]
BENT
Knitwear is another non-negotiable for me. It is a nice and easy way to change things up, simply by adding some colour and texture. So, when it comes to knits, navy isn’t a colour I ever really go for. In general, there’s almost no black in my wardrobe. Lately, I’ve been reading up on it more, and because of it, I tried it again. But whereas the ‘dark side’ is a safe place for many, to me, it still feels somewhat dangerous. But I’m incorporating it a bit more now. Like hats, knitwear was a long-lost companion, too, with that difference that – unlike hats – I don’t recall any positive childhood experiences. They are mostly negative associations, especially the horrible combination of moisture and wool, both the smell and sensation. For the longest time, that put me off. But whereas in my 20s I could only stomach cotton knitwear, I can now bear proper woollen knits. However, itchy wool still gets me; I’m very sensitive to it.
[ Retreating from the bedroom, Bent relocates to the living room, only to then very briefly disappear from view again. In no time, he’s back, carrying with him his last-minute spring-to-mind item when asked about denim. ]
BENT
Until fairly recently, I didn’t own that many denim pieces, which is why I was so swift to veto the question. Unlike many, I wouldn’t go out of my way for a pair of jeans or a denim jacket – maybe because I’ve not come across the right one yet. But this jacket that I was given not that long ago feels very much me. It could be something about the painter/worker cut, which works well for me and my style. Putting it on now, I think I might actually start wearing it in my studio, giving it the real patina of paint splashes.
[ Very on-topic, the silhouette of what is said to be Bent’s painting studio is discernible behind him in the garden. Not for long, however, as Bent sets course for what he came to the living room for in the first place. In a back-and-forth dialogue with a room hidden from all view except his, he steadily walks in and out, dressed in selected pieces of outerwear. Until he brings out a long – and from the looks of it – weighty coat. As the fabric settles on and around his body, something unfathomable seems to come over him. ]
BENT
This coat used to belong to my granddad. For some reason, after his passing, it ended up with me. For a while, I thought about getting it altered, as it was drowning my slender frame. But in the end, I decided against it; I wanted to preserve it in all its integrity. A decision I’m still grateful to my past self for. Whenever I reach for it, I instantly picture my granddad in it, whether that be in the prime of his life or near the end. By far, this coat is my most cherished piece. I have a soft spot for winter dressing anyway, as the layering element means more stories to tell within one single outfit. But an heirloom, almost all garments pale in comparison to this particular coat.
[ With the charged coat resting atop his shoulder – as if at the end of a night out – the visit is naturally brought to a close. A visit in which time temporarily and fragmentarily seemed to have stood still. Immersed in Bent’s sartorial world, any notion or track of time withdraws itself from the room. Whilst his anecdotes play on nostalgia, they are just as much set in the present and future, through garments that live on. ]
SEPPE MARRECAU
It took me a fair time to get to where I am now, clothing-wise, this tailored yet rugged look I’ve landed on over the years – it wasn’t until I was in my 30s and I found myself in Paris, where I came across my first Oxford shirt. Being in Paris at that age, I allowed myself to rediscover who I was. That’s when I stumbled upon this style of shirt, simple button-downs, but a coup de foudre which never left me since. Those shirts were and still are my holy grail, something I invest in to this day. It is the garment every outfit starts with; the most instinctive one. The majority of items I coveted back then were way out of my budget. But I told myself that one day I would own at least one of them. One such piece is my by far most meaningful blazer, my first Harris tweed. It won’t fit as it used to anymore, but I’ll forever hold on to it for its meaning.
[ Reminiscing on Paris, Bent — in passing — touches on growing up. Still just a young boy, he already recognised the value of exploring his own sartorial world. The fortitude and earnestness with which he tells so resolutely about directing his own narrative – rather than sheepishly following that of others – shows in his every word and gesture, carefully chosen yet bold and witty. He speaks with remarkable candour about what, at times, must have made for some thorny situations. ]
I was willing to take the beating because I knew what it was about. New clothes were not a thing I knew; I had to make do with hand-me-downs only. There was no autonomy in picking my own clothes. In turn, they never felt like mine, because they weren’t. I still recall how utterly disorientating it felt to put on someone else’s clothes. Despite this, or maybe precisely because of it, clothing was something I was extremely aware of. For as long as I can remember, I observed how people dressed. Over the years, I created a mental databank of all the marvels that I saw. In kindergarten, someone’s father wore these humongous jazz-type pants, an image that stayed with me ever since. And so, I would ask my mom to make me these outlandish costumes. For example, I vividly remember dressing up in wooden shoes filled with straw, clogs complemented by a straw hat. But never intended just for playing dress-up like other kids might have done. No, I’d venture out to school dressed like this. Even if it would be met with violence or come down to being ridiculed.
[ As Bent unravels his ‘battle dress’ childhood endeavours, gestures tell of his internal making sense of it all. Outwardly, he presents as adamant, but even he is still connecting some dots between little Bent and Bent today. But only in slivers of a moment is this noticeable; his body language doesn't give away much. Pointing at the top shelf – slightly bent under the weight of bagged-up clothes – surfaces the difference between him and his stage persona as part of Belgian pop group ‘Das Pop’, through which his love of dressing up lives on into his adult life. ]
This buttercup-yellow suit was the first on-stage outfit I had made, lightly inspired by 70s Bowie. For me, there is a clear distinction between my performance stuff and my day-to-day wardrobe. Not that it is that much more outrageous – some of it could blend into my ‘normal’ attire – but it is chosen with a different image in mind. What you wear on stage somehow needs to stand out; it is part of the show, so naturally I gravitate towards more colours and prints, a tad bolder than usual. I’m also the band’s designated stylist, ensuring a cohesive look. Movement was another facet I took into account from the very start. More than in my daily life, I consciously consider the range of motion an outfit will allow me. Shoes-wise, by trial-and-error, I’ve learned this comes down to a certain lightness, nothing too bulky or chunky-feeling yet firm.
[ Having addressed shirts and suits, Bent naturally transitions to ties, the finishing touch, pulling out from his wardrobe a jumble of vertical strips of fabric in all sorts of colours, prints, and materials. In the most loving way, he flings this brimming patchwork onto the bed and starts rummaging around in search of a specific one, all the while initiating a self-reflection on the start of his tie intrigue, as if taking mental note of the conversation’s flow. ]
I must have been around seven when my grandmother taught me how to tie a tie. Her husband, my granddad, was always dressed in suits and tweed. Now that I think about it, this might be where I got it from, unconsciously. Aha, found it! Knitted ties. There is something particular to them. Classic as they are, they fit in this Ivy League-style story. For me, they are also very much connected to literature, an item worn by both writers and characters. Although the things I’ve shown so far are quite classic, I’d say I love to be louder than very classic in my choices, clashing prints and patterns. Clothing is something to be enjoyed, something you are allowed to have fun with. Too often still is it considered frivolity, ridiculed, laughed away, even. When, actually, what you end up wearing can shape your whole day. I can see the beauty in having a curated uniform that works for you. However, for the moment, I’m still having too much fun to land on one such look. I’ll keep playing for now, but maybe one day what is now still a constant curation might result in a uniform of my own. I’ve narrowed it down hugely, already.
[ With an unseen pace and guided by muscle memory, he interchanges his tie. Clearly, he’s done this before. As an interlude, his right hand clasps onto his left wrist, home to one of his modest collection of two watches. Momentarily caught up in his own thoughts, Bent then reaches across the room; joining the ties on the bed is a selection of hats, seconds ago still tucked away in a bottom corner of the near floor-to-ceiling wardrobe. ]
Hats give me a certain sense of comfort, but even more than that, they are a way to punctuate what you are trying to do or get at with your outfit. Nevertheless, for the longest time, hats were a difficult matter for me. They only really reentered my life after meeting a milliner and a now-friend in Florence. During my dressing-up era as a child, hats were a crucial part of the outfit. This friend, well, he made me rediscover them. In a way, he gave or assured me permission anew to wear a hat. At the end of the day, it is nothing more than another piece of clothing. It took me until then to realise I could just wear them, so I did and still do.
[ The aptness with which he handles their shaped matter, especially of a classic fedora, is of a rare innate quality. Hand atop and one leg crossed in front of the other, he makes it look ever so easy and casual, as he does tailoring overall – by far the most comprehensive category of his wardrobe, most of which is displayed on the clothing rail standing between him and the wall adjacent to the living room. Overcome with keenness, he dips in and out of the shoulder-to-shoulder blazers, jackets, and suits sorted in no particular order. ]
When it comes to suits, there is little difference for me from how others interact with tracksuits. Similar to their line of reasoning, I consider suits as something I can do anything in. And not because I was taught so; apart from my grandad, my surroundings were sparse on occasion wear. I learnt as I went, picking up on this tailoring language. However, I don’t cling to one type of tailoring. I’m quite keen on crossovers and a good twist. But it can be tricky to find tailors willing to deviate from the classic. Not that all are custom-made, several are vintage. I’d say my entire wardrobe is a 60-40 divide between vintage and new items. In most cases, fabric is the decisive factor; when you feel it, you know. And, of course, there is the allure and story such pieces carry.
[ An avid advocate for vintage, Bent elaborates on the value of lived-in items, seemingly reliving the moments and instances in which he stumbled upon some of his own treasured finds. A sparkle is noticeable in both his eyes and voice. ]
Part of the charm is getting swept up in the history and the story that is already there, the charge that clothes cover, which you can almost physically feel. And subsequently, the ability to make that garment yours, to add your own little twist to its already existing narrative. Making it part of your own. Leather jackets aren’t something that heavily feature in my wardrobe, but I do have a vintage one. We were recording an album in LA at the time, and whenever we drove to the studio, we would pass this one vintage store. At one point, I tried on this horse leather jacket, which stayed on my mind for the remainder of our trip. By the end, despite it almost literally falling apart because it had been so well-loved, I decided to get it anyway. It was magical enough to take home. I don’t wear it regularly, but I have a thing with celebrating milestones through clothing. In this case, the record in LA. On my mind now is my first fully bespoke suit for my 50th birthday this year. With that one, especially, it is about so much more than the final result. The experience and process are as much a part of the joy and anticipation as the actual outcome.
[ Literally turning his back to the clothing rails, Bent crosses back over to the still open wardrobes on the opposite side of the room. Hands on his hips, he takes in the knitted scenery laid out in front of him. Debating which piece to take off the shelves, his hands graze over an array of different ones – haphazardly, yet ever so tenderly. ]
Knitwear is another non-negotiable for me. It is a nice and easy way to change things up, simply by adding some colour and texture. So, when it comes to knits, navy isn’t a colour I ever really go for. In general, there’s almost no black in my wardrobe. Lately, I’ve been reading up on it more, and because of it, I tried it again. But whereas the ‘dark side’ is a safe place for many, to me, it still feels somewhat dangerous. But I’m incorporating it a bit more now. Like hats, knitwear was a long-lost companion, too, with that difference that – unlike hats – I don’t recall any positive childhood experiences. They are mostly negative associations, especially the horrible combination of moisture and wool, both the smell and sensation. For the longest time, that put me off. But whereas in my 20s I could only stomach cotton knitwear, I can now bear proper woollen knits. However, itchy wool still gets me; I’m very sensitive to it.
[ Retreating from the bedroom, Bent relocates to the living room, only to then very briefly disappear from view again. In no time, he’s back, carrying with him his last-minute spring-to-mind item when asked about denim. ]
Until fairly recently, I didn’t own that many denim pieces, which is why I was so swift to veto the question. Unlike many, I wouldn’t go out of my way for a pair of jeans or a denim jacket – maybe because I’ve not come across the right one yet. But this jacket that I was given not that long ago feels very much me. It could be something about the painter/worker cut, which works well for me and my style. Putting it on now, I think I might actually start wearing it in my studio, giving it the real patina of paint splashes.
[ Very on-topic, the silhouette of what is said to be Bent’s painting studio is discernible behind him in the garden. Not for long, however, as Bent sets course for what he came to the living room for in the first place. In a back-and-forth dialogue with a room hidden from all view except his, he steadily walks in and out, dressed in selected pieces of outerwear. Until he brings out a long – and from the looks of it – weighty coat. As the fabric settles on and around his body, something unfathomable seems to come over him. ]
This coat used to belong to my granddad. For some reason, after his passing, it ended up with me. For a while, I thought about getting it altered, as it was drowning my slender frame. But in the end, I decided against it; I wanted to preserve it in all its integrity. A decision I’m still grateful to my past self for. Whenever I reach for it, I instantly picture my granddad in it, whether that be in the prime of his life or near the end. By far, this coat is my most cherished piece. I have a soft spot for winter dressing anyway, as the layering element means more stories to tell within one single outfit. But an heirloom, almost all garments pale in comparison to this particular coat.
[ With the charged coat resting atop his shoulder – as if at the end of a night out – the visit is naturally brought to a close. A visit in which time temporarily and fragmentarily seemed to have stood still. Immersed in Bent’s sartorial world, any notion or track of time withdraws itself from the room. Whilst his anecdotes play on nostalgia, they are just as much set in the present and future, through garments that live on. ]
ongoing feature.2026
... co.curated project