His sun-weathered complexion, reminiscent of a seasoned sea dog, gives away a life on the move. Years ago, Greg Hessmann lived in South Africa, working for local production companies. In another chapter, the Marseille native helmed a women’s clothing brand showcased at Parisian trade shows. Then there were all those years organising the city’s best parties—the famous Plaisir Collectif nights—taking over neglected dive bars for an evening to pour his wine and spin his music. Eventually, Greg Hessmann became a full-time host: today, he runs the bar La Relève and the café L’Abbaye, two welcoming establishments perched above the Old Port, where simple warmth is an art form. It is on the terrace of the former, amid countless greetings and handshakes, that he breaks down the story behind his personal style.
How did your personal style evolve in the beginning?
I grew up outside Marseille, in the countryside. Out there, nobody gave a damn about fashion. When I was a kid, my parents, who were fairly traditional, made me tuck my shirt into my trousers. It was at school that I started to develop a sense of clothing culture. My high school was far from the city centre, and everyone was exclusively into streetwear. But one of my first real style shocks was when my sister brought me back a pair of Doc Martens with aluminium plates from a trip to London. Suddenly, I realised that style could go in any direction, that there were other worlds to explore. Later on, I started wearing leather coats, biker boots, and brightly coloured jackets. I also hung around the famous Prado bowl a lot, so skate culture naturally influenced me: at one point, I wore t-shirts with flames or skulls and high socks under my shorts. For me, it was a way of expressing myself. My clothes were a lifestyle.
Today, what matters most in your wardrobe?
Because I’m a surfer at heart, I’m usually in a t-shirt or a hoodie, and when it gets chilly, I throw a jacket over it. But at the same time, I don’t overlook shirts. In a way, I’m the face of my restaurants. My job is about hospitality, but also presentation. So I have to pay at least some attention to how I dress. I wear my shirts fitted. It suits my build. Otherwise, I feel like I look a bit shapeless. The cut is a fundamental criterion when choosing a shirt. You see too many people in the street swimming in their shirts, or wearing them like a second skin that's far too tight. You do have to pay attention…
Your passion for surfing takes you travelling, to Southeast Asia or Central America. And every time, you bring clothes back from those places…
I always feel like they're incredible pieces, and when I wear them in Marseille, I get called out straight away. My friends tease me, they wind me up, like when I turned up in that long, sky-blue jacket that fell below my knees. In Marseille, people love poking fun at unusual outfits. But I stick to my guns. At the same time, trying to stand out is also a very Marseille thing to do. We're rebels. We don't want to be like everyone else. At a party where everyone’s in a shirt, we won’t hesitate to show up in a t-shirt just for the fun of turning heads.
“We're rebels. At a party where everyone’s in a shirt, we won’t hesitate to show up in a t-shirt just for the fun of turning heads.”
Could you give a breakdown of the styles you see passing by your bar?
It's simple: you can spot the Parisian straight away. He’s a guy on top of the trends, with hems of immaculate stitching and proportions, wearing shoes that were inevitably just featured on the latest stylish sites. The Marseillais, on the other hand, pays less attention to his everyday style. He might try something, but not every day. That would be too much. Among my Marseille customers, though, there are some great characters. You have the rockers from the Cours Julien, with their rolled-up trousers, cropped denim jackets, and leather shoes. There are also a few older working-class locals. Handsome older chaps who live by the sea and take care of their looks even if they haven't got much taste, sporting a deep tan, slicked-back hair, an open-collared shirt and an ID bracelet on the wrist. Rest assured, those types aren’t going extinct anytime soon.
Did you ever consider having your front-of-house team wear a uniform?
For a while, I thought about having my waiters and waitresses be recognisable, yes. There was no question of having them wear a white shirt and black trousers, but rather a coloured polo shirt and an apron. But with the restaurants' success, I quickly dropped that idea. I want my customers to feel like the people serving them are their friends. La Relève and L’Abbaye are neighbourhood spots with a friendly vibe.
Sauce or coffee—do you often get stains at work?
I’m a consummate professional: I never spill a thing. And if I do, it might just be a good excuse to go topless in front of the guests. One thing, though: when it comes to stains, the salt trick doesn't work. It’s a myth, forget it!