The next project is Ari Aster’s
daylight terror Midsommar. Aster’s
Hereditary was one of the most bonkers
mainstream horror movies in years;
the follow-up is the kind of mindfuck
Poulter loves to dive into. “Ari comes
at things from really obtuse angles,”
Poulter says. “When people supersede
your expectations, it’s the best. I got to
watch a real genius up close.”
A guy nearby gets on a massive
Kawasaki. Poulter gushes: “Dude, that’s
your bike—that’s so sick.” He pauses.
“I mean, obviously that’s your bike,
you wouldn’t be getting on if it wasn’t.”
I joke about the idea of him pulling up
to the interview on it. He’s dismissive.
“Umm,” he answers, “if I sat on that, you
could tell instantly it wasn’t mine.”
He only lets himself go, bless his
heart, when talking about rap music.
Older siblings put him on—“It was Nas,
’Pac, Biggie, Fugees.” Then, hell yeah,
“Nelly, 50 Cent, Ja Rule, Ashanti.” When
he was 11, a song at a party blew his
S w e ate r, $1,25 0,
and shirt, $1,260,
by Jil Sander.
Pants, $345, by MHL
by Margaret Howell.
Sneakers, $250, by
Undercover x Nike.mind. With great trepidation, he asked
the bored teenage DJs what it was, and
they told him it was “P’s & Q’s” by the
London grime artist Kano. “And I went,
[deep breath] ‘Thank you so much,’ and
repeated ‘P’s & Q’s’ until my mum picked
me up and I LimeWire’d it.”
Now he talks about grime like a rel-
ative. “Wiley, Jme, P Money—all these
U.K. artists didn’t have to compromise
to get recognition.” He bangs on the
table. “Skepta! Konnichiwa was an
incredible album!”Suddenly, we hear a small child
screaming in the distance. “Shut up!
Shut uuuppp!” the kid yells. Done with
his rap benedictions, Poulter clicks back
into his natural restraint. “Goodness,”
he says. “Can we get a ‘please’?”amos barshad is a writer living
in London.38 GQ.COM AUGUST 2019
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