“I always felt Creole heritage had been put in the same box. I wanted to decolonise it, refresh it and reframe everything.”
That’s Vincent Frédéric-Colombo explaining the thinking behind C.R.E.O.L.E, the Paris-based fashion project and wider cultural world he founded after moving back to France from Guadeloupe, the French Caribbean archipelago where he grew up. A world that now exists somewhere between fashion label, photographic language, nightlife institution and cultural manifesto.
Born in Paris before being raised in Guadeloupe, Frédéric-Colombo returned to mainland France after high school, initially studying product design, sociology and anthropology before a brief spell in fashion education. “Fashion was actually the shortest part of my studies,” he laughs. “I only spent one semester in fashion school.”
Still, fashion became the medium through which many of his wider questions around identity, diaspora and representation would eventually take shape. Early on, he worked in retail while slowly developing a personal project that was initially less about launching a brand and more about understanding himself. “It was more sociological and anthropological for me,” he says. “I was trying to have this introspection about my identity, to see what I could add and what was missing at the time.”
A major turning point came through meeting photographer Fanny Viguier during an editorial styling project. Together, they began creating images built around a “new vocabulary” of Creole identity, producing portraits that centred different body types, mixed identities and communities often flattened or stereotyped within mainstream depictions of Caribbean culture. Those early shoots eventually became exhibitions, and those exhibitions eventually became parties.
“At first, people thought it was another exhibition opening,” he says. “But a lot of people came, and they really liked the concept of the party too.”
That chance crossover became La CREOLE, now one of Paris’ most recognisable clubnights and a vital space for Afro-Caribbean, Black and queer communities within the city’s club landscape. Dancehall, shatta, house, ballroom, rap, zouk and electronic music all collide on La CREOLE dancefloors, where fashion, movement, sound and identity become difficult to separate from one another.
The nightlife side of the project became important not only because of the music itself, but because it transformed the philosophy behind the imagery into something physical and communal. A room where people could experience those ideas together rather than simply observe them.
Even as La CREOLE grew into a major club institution, Frédéric-Colombo stayed focused on developing the fashion side of the project. During the pandemic especially, he began refining what C.R.E.O.L.E could become as a standalone brand. “Creole is clearly a colonial term,” he says. “But what Creole means now is not the same meaning it had at that time. I wanted to give my own version of what could be interesting to debate about Creole culture.”
Now almost five years into the brand’s existence, and firmly established within the Paris fashion calendar, C.R.E.O.L.E continues to move fluidly between clothing, photography, sound and public space. That fluidity now extends onto the streets themselves through UNCLE’s Paris flyposting campaign, placing Frédéric-Colombo’s imagery directly into the city around him.
“If they don’t know me,” he says later in our conversation, “they will know me.”
That’s Vincent Frédéric-Colombo explaining the thinking behind C.R.E.O.L.E, the Paris-based fashion project and wider cultural world he founded after moving back to France from Guadeloupe, the French Caribbean archipelago where he grew up. A world that now exists somewhere between fashion label, photographic language, nightlife institution and cultural manifesto.
Born in Paris before being raised in Guadeloupe, Frédéric-Colombo returned to mainland France after high school, initially studying product design, sociology and anthropology before a brief spell in fashion education. “Fashion was actually the shortest part of my studies,” he laughs. “I only spent one semester in fashion school.”
Still, fashion became the medium through which many of his wider questions around identity, diaspora and representation would eventually take shape. Early on, he worked in retail while slowly developing a personal project that was initially less about launching a brand and more about understanding himself. “It was more sociological and anthropological for me,” he says. “I was trying to have this introspection about my identity, to see what I could add and what was missing at the time.”
A major turning point came through meeting photographer Fanny Viguier during an editorial styling project. Together, they began creating images built around a “new vocabulary” of Creole identity, producing portraits that centred different body types, mixed identities and communities often flattened or stereotyped within mainstream depictions of Caribbean culture. Those early shoots eventually became exhibitions, and those exhibitions eventually became parties.
“At first, people thought it was another exhibition opening,” he says. “But a lot of people came, and they really liked the concept of the party too.”
That chance crossover became La CREOLE, now one of Paris’ most recognisable clubnights and a vital space for Afro-Caribbean, Black and queer communities within the city’s club landscape. Dancehall, shatta, house, ballroom, rap, zouk and electronic music all collide on La CREOLE dancefloors, where fashion, movement, sound and identity become difficult to separate from one another.
The nightlife side of the project became important not only because of the music itself, but because it transformed the philosophy behind the imagery into something physical and communal. A room where people could experience those ideas together rather than simply observe them.
Even as La CREOLE grew into a major club institution, Frédéric-Colombo stayed focused on developing the fashion side of the project. During the pandemic especially, he began refining what C.R.E.O.L.E could become as a standalone brand. “Creole is clearly a colonial term,” he says. “But what Creole means now is not the same meaning it had at that time. I wanted to give my own version of what could be interesting to debate about Creole culture.”
Now almost five years into the brand’s existence, and firmly established within the Paris fashion calendar, C.R.E.O.L.E continues to move fluidly between clothing, photography, sound and public space. That fluidity now extends onto the streets themselves through UNCLE’s Paris flyposting campaign, placing Frédéric-Colombo’s imagery directly into the city around him.
“If they don’t know me,” he says later in our conversation, “they will know me.”
THE NAME CARRIES A LOT OF MEANING THAT CAN DIFFER ACROSS THE WORLD. WHAT DOES CREOLE MEAN TO YOU PERSONALLY, CULTURALLY AND POLITICALLY?
For me, it’s really linked to the concept of creolisation. Before I realised there was this theoretical aspect to it, it was something I was personally experiencing.
Even when I was a kid in Guadeloupe, I knew I was from there and that my family was from there, but I also felt like I needed something from other places. I deeply connect with this community, but I also need to be kind of far from it.
Maybe I felt more connected to my culture when I moved to France, because when I was in Guadeloupe, I just wanted to escape. Not because I felt like it didn’t fit me, but because I felt bored. Everything could feel the same every year, every season. If you tried to go a little bit out of line, people would criticise you or judge you. They would ask, “Why are you doing that?”
From a young age, I think I had this confidence to try to be myself, no matter what people thought. That is still something really hard, and it still triggers people today. But I saw that experience of frustration as maybe the fuel of creativity.
Because of the frustration we can have from these archipelago places, maybe we are also more connected to the outside. We create something deeper from the inside, because we have this necessity to prove to ourselves, and to the community, that we are bigger than just the place we live.
CAN YOU TALK ME THROUGH THOSE BEGINNINGS, AND WHAT YOU WERE TRYING TO EXPLORE VISUALLY?
At first, it was really a personal fashion project. I didn’t know if I wanted to release a brand, but I wanted to explore my identity from a sociological and anthropological point of view and think about what I could add and what was missing at the time.
Then I started collaborating with Fanny Viguier. We met through an editorial project, when I was doing styling, and it was the first time I felt a special connection with a photographer. I wanted to compose a new vocabulary around Creole heritage. I always felt Creole heritage had been put in the same box. I wanted to decolonise it, refresh it and reframe everything.
We slowly started developing images with samples I had made. The first exhibition was like an introduction to the brand chapter. We made portraits of different body types, different mixes of people, showing the diversity of communities that exist in Creole society.
The audience received it really well. People were asking, “Where can I get this T-shirt, this hoodie, this bag?” And I thought, okay, maybe I have something to do with that.
For me, it’s really linked to the concept of creolisation. Before I realised there was this theoretical aspect to it, it was something I was personally experiencing.
Even when I was a kid in Guadeloupe, I knew I was from there and that my family was from there, but I also felt like I needed something from other places. I deeply connect with this community, but I also need to be kind of far from it.
Maybe I felt more connected to my culture when I moved to France, because when I was in Guadeloupe, I just wanted to escape. Not because I felt like it didn’t fit me, but because I felt bored. Everything could feel the same every year, every season. If you tried to go a little bit out of line, people would criticise you or judge you. They would ask, “Why are you doing that?”
From a young age, I think I had this confidence to try to be myself, no matter what people thought. That is still something really hard, and it still triggers people today. But I saw that experience of frustration as maybe the fuel of creativity.
Because of the frustration we can have from these archipelago places, maybe we are also more connected to the outside. We create something deeper from the inside, because we have this necessity to prove to ourselves, and to the community, that we are bigger than just the place we live.
CAN YOU TALK ME THROUGH THOSE BEGINNINGS, AND WHAT YOU WERE TRYING TO EXPLORE VISUALLY?
At first, it was really a personal fashion project. I didn’t know if I wanted to release a brand, but I wanted to explore my identity from a sociological and anthropological point of view and think about what I could add and what was missing at the time.
Then I started collaborating with Fanny Viguier. We met through an editorial project, when I was doing styling, and it was the first time I felt a special connection with a photographer. I wanted to compose a new vocabulary around Creole heritage. I always felt Creole heritage had been put in the same box. I wanted to decolonise it, refresh it and reframe everything.
We slowly started developing images with samples I had made. The first exhibition was like an introduction to the brand chapter. We made portraits of different body types, different mixes of people, showing the diversity of communities that exist in Creole society.
The audience received it really well. People were asking, “Where can I get this T-shirt, this hoodie, this bag?” And I thought, okay, maybe I have something to do with that.
I READ THAT THE CLUB NIGHT ALMOST STARTED BY ACCIDENT, AFTER AN EXHIBITION OPENING TURNED INTO A PARTY. WAS THERE A MOMENT WHERE YOU REALISED THIS COULD BECOME MORE THAN A ONE-OFF NIGHT?
Exactly. It started from an exhibition opening. We didn’t know if people would be interested in the project. We invited the models, friends, and there was maybe an article somewhere to bring people, but you never know if people will really engage.
Then, when you see it in real life, when you see how invested people are, how they come and how they react, you realise something is happening. It was not just a frustration inside, or a discussion you have with friends. It was more like: okay, let’s do something. Action is stronger than words.
And then the cops came too, because people were drinking bottles outside in the street. It wasn’t really about the opening, but maybe that was a sign of success.
THE FASHION ARM OF THE BRAND IS FLOURISHING BUT THE BRAND CONTINUES TO MOVE BETWEEN PHOTOGRAPHY, FASHION, DANCE, NIGHTLIFE, POLITICS AND COMMUNITY RATHER THAN SITTING NEATLY IN ONE LANE. WAS THAT ALWAYS THE PLAN?
I feel like the party is an immense element of reunion in Caribbean and Black culture. It doesn’t need to give a political speech to bring people together. That might be one of the strongest things we did.
With images, you can present a certain sense of fashion, a certain aesthetic, a certain casting, and all the philosophical aspects we like. But when you put that into a party environment, it becomes speechless. You don’t have to say anything special. People just experience it.
We wanted to push the limits. You have Caribbean vibes, African vibes, Latino vibes, but often they stay in separate sections. People create and listen to similar kinds of music, but they also stay in their own communities because that feels safe for them. We tried to create a bridge for people from these communities, and for people from these communities who feel disconnected from them because they have other backgrounds, other aspirations, other styles of music and life.
That is why we bring together electronic cultures too: drum and bass, techno, house, dancehall, zouk, salsa. These are things people might share at a house party, but in the club, it can feel like you have to wear a mask or enter into a character.
At La CREOLE, the idea is that it can mean a lot of things, and sometimes nothing fixed at all.
Exactly. It started from an exhibition opening. We didn’t know if people would be interested in the project. We invited the models, friends, and there was maybe an article somewhere to bring people, but you never know if people will really engage.
Then, when you see it in real life, when you see how invested people are, how they come and how they react, you realise something is happening. It was not just a frustration inside, or a discussion you have with friends. It was more like: okay, let’s do something. Action is stronger than words.
And then the cops came too, because people were drinking bottles outside in the street. It wasn’t really about the opening, but maybe that was a sign of success.
THE FASHION ARM OF THE BRAND IS FLOURISHING BUT THE BRAND CONTINUES TO MOVE BETWEEN PHOTOGRAPHY, FASHION, DANCE, NIGHTLIFE, POLITICS AND COMMUNITY RATHER THAN SITTING NEATLY IN ONE LANE. WAS THAT ALWAYS THE PLAN?
I feel like the party is an immense element of reunion in Caribbean and Black culture. It doesn’t need to give a political speech to bring people together. That might be one of the strongest things we did.
With images, you can present a certain sense of fashion, a certain aesthetic, a certain casting, and all the philosophical aspects we like. But when you put that into a party environment, it becomes speechless. You don’t have to say anything special. People just experience it.
We wanted to push the limits. You have Caribbean vibes, African vibes, Latino vibes, but often they stay in separate sections. People create and listen to similar kinds of music, but they also stay in their own communities because that feels safe for them. We tried to create a bridge for people from these communities, and for people from these communities who feel disconnected from them because they have other backgrounds, other aspirations, other styles of music and life.
That is why we bring together electronic cultures too: drum and bass, techno, house, dancehall, zouk, salsa. These are things people might share at a house party, but in the club, it can feel like you have to wear a mask or enter into a character.
At La CREOLE, the idea is that it can mean a lot of things, and sometimes nothing fixed at all.
YOUR PINNED POST ON INSTAGRAM SAYS LA CREOLE IS OPEN TO EVERYONE BUT STARTS FIRST AND FOREMOST WITH MINORITIES. WHY WAS IT IMPORTANT TO SAY THAT SO CLEARLY?
Because we feel every good party starts to become a little bit gentrified in its audience.
It’s important for people to know that we make this party for communities that don’t always have a large visibility. Even when they do exist, sometimes it is only for their own community and not outside of that.
We wanted to invite people to discover how we love to party, how we like to dance, and how we don’t need the hype to feel valid. A lot of this music and culture did not have a big place in certain clubs before, so opening space for it is also part of the education.
We are here to celebrate people, but you don’t need to make them invisible. People from minorities, including sexual minorities, are deeply important to us.
In the queer community, sometimes it can be separate from Black communities too, so it is important for people to feel safe and embraced. You can see that in carnival, for example. Carnival is such an important event in so many Caribbean and Black Caribbean places, and maybe one of the most unique moments where queer people can express their creativity and not feel blamed for it.
We have had a lot of people from the ballroom community, dancers and performers in the crew, and we always defend this part of the community being visible.
Even though I’m queer and mixed, and Fanny is straight and white, we still work hand in hand to push this further, and also to be respected for that. Sometimes people approach us and say, “We like what you do,” but they just want the vibe. And we have to say, no, we don’t work for that.
You need to respect the fact that it’s not only DJs you are booking. It is not only a certain kind of music you are booking. If you book us, you book us to represent something. You need to respect that.
Because we feel every good party starts to become a little bit gentrified in its audience.
It’s important for people to know that we make this party for communities that don’t always have a large visibility. Even when they do exist, sometimes it is only for their own community and not outside of that.
We wanted to invite people to discover how we love to party, how we like to dance, and how we don’t need the hype to feel valid. A lot of this music and culture did not have a big place in certain clubs before, so opening space for it is also part of the education.
We are here to celebrate people, but you don’t need to make them invisible. People from minorities, including sexual minorities, are deeply important to us.
In the queer community, sometimes it can be separate from Black communities too, so it is important for people to feel safe and embraced. You can see that in carnival, for example. Carnival is such an important event in so many Caribbean and Black Caribbean places, and maybe one of the most unique moments where queer people can express their creativity and not feel blamed for it.
We have had a lot of people from the ballroom community, dancers and performers in the crew, and we always defend this part of the community being visible.
Even though I’m queer and mixed, and Fanny is straight and white, we still work hand in hand to push this further, and also to be respected for that. Sometimes people approach us and say, “We like what you do,” but they just want the vibe. And we have to say, no, we don’t work for that.
You need to respect the fact that it’s not only DJs you are booking. It is not only a certain kind of music you are booking. If you book us, you book us to represent something. You need to respect that.
WE’VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THE TERM “SAFE SPACE”, AND HOW DIFFICULT IT IS TO GUARANTEE SAFETY IN ANY SETTING. WE RECENTLY HEARD SOMEONE USE “INTENTIONAL SPACE” INSTEAD. DOES THAT FEEL CLOSER TO WHAT LA CRÉOLE IS TRYING TO CREATE, AND WHAT DOES THAT CARE LOOK LIKE IN PRACTICE AT ONE OF YOUR NIGHTS?
For sure. We always choose places where we know they have a certain way to welcome the audience. We don’t just do parties to do parties.
A lot of spaces contact us because they want to do something, but sometimes they just want to make money. For us, if we are bringing our community into a place, we need to be sure that it can be safe, and that if something happens, people will react in the right way.
We had one situation where a guy from security asked a girl who was topless to cover herself. We were like, why are you doing that? Because some other guys are talking about her? You don’t do that. We spoke to the head of security, and that person was removed during the night.
We have also had moments where someone seemed suspicious, and some girls mentioned it, so we brought the guy out of the door. Girls love to come to the party because they feel people are not trying to flirt with them too much. They feel they can be themselves.
The crowd also helps regulate that safety. If there is a problem, people are really open, and they call security fast. Sometimes we will say something on the mic too.
One time, one of our performers saw someone in the crowd doing a middle finger towards him while he was dancing. He asked the DJ to stop the music, took the mic and called it out. We called security, stopped the music, and told the guy: if you don’t like seeing people like this, why did you come? You are free to leave.
There is a balance that is naturally made by the crowd, because they love the space for a reason and they try to preserve it. That is really important. We didn’t always make posts about this before, but at a certain point we felt it was necessary to put it on the page as a reminder, because our people need to feel like this party is home.
YOUR WORK IS NOT EXCLUSIVE TO PARIS, BUT IT IS THE BRAND’S HOME, SO HOW DOES PARIS INSPIRE YOU CREATIVELY?
Paris is really a human-sized city for a capital. It is a global city, but you have so many communities in the same small area. You can have so many styles of life, so many styles of architecture and so many kinds of people you can meet.
That cosmopolitan aspect of the city is really interesting. If you want to eat world food, you can find so many good addresses. If you want something more basic from French cuisine, you can find that too. If you want to go to a little grocery or a boulangerie, you can find something really delicious for almost nothing, or something really expensive.
It has different levels. It can be fancy, it can be simple.
For sure. We always choose places where we know they have a certain way to welcome the audience. We don’t just do parties to do parties.
A lot of spaces contact us because they want to do something, but sometimes they just want to make money. For us, if we are bringing our community into a place, we need to be sure that it can be safe, and that if something happens, people will react in the right way.
We had one situation where a guy from security asked a girl who was topless to cover herself. We were like, why are you doing that? Because some other guys are talking about her? You don’t do that. We spoke to the head of security, and that person was removed during the night.
We have also had moments where someone seemed suspicious, and some girls mentioned it, so we brought the guy out of the door. Girls love to come to the party because they feel people are not trying to flirt with them too much. They feel they can be themselves.
The crowd also helps regulate that safety. If there is a problem, people are really open, and they call security fast. Sometimes we will say something on the mic too.
One time, one of our performers saw someone in the crowd doing a middle finger towards him while he was dancing. He asked the DJ to stop the music, took the mic and called it out. We called security, stopped the music, and told the guy: if you don’t like seeing people like this, why did you come? You are free to leave.
There is a balance that is naturally made by the crowd, because they love the space for a reason and they try to preserve it. That is really important. We didn’t always make posts about this before, but at a certain point we felt it was necessary to put it on the page as a reminder, because our people need to feel like this party is home.
YOUR WORK IS NOT EXCLUSIVE TO PARIS, BUT IT IS THE BRAND’S HOME, SO HOW DOES PARIS INSPIRE YOU CREATIVELY?
Paris is really a human-sized city for a capital. It is a global city, but you have so many communities in the same small area. You can have so many styles of life, so many styles of architecture and so many kinds of people you can meet.
That cosmopolitan aspect of the city is really interesting. If you want to eat world food, you can find so many good addresses. If you want something more basic from French cuisine, you can find that too. If you want to go to a little grocery or a boulangerie, you can find something really delicious for almost nothing, or something really expensive.
It has different levels. It can be fancy, it can be simple.
HOW DOES YOUR OWN HERITAGE AND UPBRINGING INFLUENCE THE CLOTHES YOU MAKE?
I try to synthesise a lot of elements of the aesthetics I love, even some things I hated before. I think it is interesting to use the frustration of why I hated certain things, and why they were so popular, and then try to find a way to like them.
I celebrate elements of style my grandfather had, my dad had, my brother had, and people I loved to see on my island. I also bring in my personal point of view on fashion, because I always felt like an outsider. I was received as an outsider for my style, even in middle school and high school.
People would say, “Why are you dressing like this?” Or they would say, “You’re like an Oreo. You’re trying to look more white than Black.” But I was never trying to pretend that. My aspirations were just different.
At the same time, there are a lot of elements from Caribbean aesthetics that I like, but sometimes I didn’t really project myself onto them. Even if I liked them, I wasn’t sure if they dealt with me.
Now I use that in my brand. I explore another way to present some of those elements and try to amplify or minimise certain details. Even the string vest is such a men’s element. You can see it in so many men’s wardrobes in tropical spaces. I think it is funny to see how we can challenge something really simple and make it fashion.
The way I work with tie-dye is similar. It is something anybody could do, but I try to find a way to make it semi-artisanal and semi-industrial. It can look simple, even cheesy, but if you find a way to twist it, it can be genius.
WHAT ARE YOU USING THE UNCLE FLYPOSTING SPOTS TO PROMOTE?
I am using them to promote some samples that were missing from my last show. They are polo shirts, kind of soccer polo shirts.
Because it is the World Cup year, I wanted to show something a little bit sportier in my brand. Maybe some people have never seen that side of my aesthetic before.
WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO HAVE THIS WORK OUT ON THE STREETS OF PARIS, RATHER THAN ON A PHONE SCREEN, IN A STUDIO OR AT A SHOW?
For so many brands, and in particular for brands managed by Black-owned designers or Black-owned entrepreneurs, it is really important to show people that we exist, and that we can make it well.
Not just to make it, but to make it well. We can have a global impact, even in really gentrified places. It is about showing: if they don’t know me, they will know me.
The idea is to make really nice images, and also to show that I can surprise people with Creole culture. Even the name of the brand is a question. People could be like, “What is Creole about this?” or “I never saw this kind of person in an advertisement.”
It will be fun to see how people react to that, and to see how images usually dedicated to social media can take place in the city. Sometimes we never know which wall will be chosen, and it could create something magical.
I try to synthesise a lot of elements of the aesthetics I love, even some things I hated before. I think it is interesting to use the frustration of why I hated certain things, and why they were so popular, and then try to find a way to like them.
I celebrate elements of style my grandfather had, my dad had, my brother had, and people I loved to see on my island. I also bring in my personal point of view on fashion, because I always felt like an outsider. I was received as an outsider for my style, even in middle school and high school.
People would say, “Why are you dressing like this?” Or they would say, “You’re like an Oreo. You’re trying to look more white than Black.” But I was never trying to pretend that. My aspirations were just different.
At the same time, there are a lot of elements from Caribbean aesthetics that I like, but sometimes I didn’t really project myself onto them. Even if I liked them, I wasn’t sure if they dealt with me.
Now I use that in my brand. I explore another way to present some of those elements and try to amplify or minimise certain details. Even the string vest is such a men’s element. You can see it in so many men’s wardrobes in tropical spaces. I think it is funny to see how we can challenge something really simple and make it fashion.
The way I work with tie-dye is similar. It is something anybody could do, but I try to find a way to make it semi-artisanal and semi-industrial. It can look simple, even cheesy, but if you find a way to twist it, it can be genius.
WHAT ARE YOU USING THE UNCLE FLYPOSTING SPOTS TO PROMOTE?
I am using them to promote some samples that were missing from my last show. They are polo shirts, kind of soccer polo shirts.
Because it is the World Cup year, I wanted to show something a little bit sportier in my brand. Maybe some people have never seen that side of my aesthetic before.
WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO HAVE THIS WORK OUT ON THE STREETS OF PARIS, RATHER THAN ON A PHONE SCREEN, IN A STUDIO OR AT A SHOW?
For so many brands, and in particular for brands managed by Black-owned designers or Black-owned entrepreneurs, it is really important to show people that we exist, and that we can make it well.
Not just to make it, but to make it well. We can have a global impact, even in really gentrified places. It is about showing: if they don’t know me, they will know me.
The idea is to make really nice images, and also to show that I can surprise people with Creole culture. Even the name of the brand is a question. People could be like, “What is Creole about this?” or “I never saw this kind of person in an advertisement.”
It will be fun to see how people react to that, and to see how images usually dedicated to social media can take place in the city. Sometimes we never know which wall will be chosen, and it could create something magical.
