boy-length blond hair, all wet. I chose my
bathing suit with care.
But the conditions for a hot-tub party
weren’t optimal: L.A. was locked in
98-degree weather, and nobody (besides
me) was willing to suffer heatstroke. Plus,
Diplo had other things to do, which is how
we end up in the last place you’d expect to
find him: a rent-by-the-hour conference
room at a co-working space, where the
snacks are free and the water bottles are
branded with a pet start-up’s logo. Appar-
ently, Monday-morning meetings are a
fact of life even for DJs.
Diplo needs to meet with the writers’
room for the relaunch of Major Lazer, the
short-lived FXX animated series he cre-
ated based on his first and best-known
music project, the electronic-dancehall
group of the same name. Hurrying to
make himself professional, using his Tesla
like Clark Kent’s phone booth, he changes
into cowboy boots, while Sara Nataf, his
creative director and Swiss Army–knifecompanion (friend, joint roller, spirit freer,
vibe keeper), holds up three different belts
with big, showy buckles. “Wes”—short for
Wesley, as in Thomas Wesley Pentz, his
actual name—“choose one,” she says with
some urgency. He has recently committed
to a very specific kind of Westernwear
inspired by a recent project, the country-
music persona Thomas Wesley, under
which he plans to release an album.
He slings his Gucci backpack over his
shoulder, hitches his belt, and, with andecember 9–22, 2019 | new york 109