Shopping bag.

It’s 7:30am in the Hollywood Hills and the mid-century bachelor pad home to Arman Naféei is flooded with the orange and purple hues of morning. The music virtuoso turned ambiance director has just touched down after a whirlwind trip to Europe – via Paris (he stays at Hotel Grand Amour), Cologne, Ibiza and St Moritz, where he’s working with the Kulm Hotel on their new country club. The jet lag is real, he says, yet proceeds to tell story upon story with the infectious energy of a born raconteur. If he’s so ebullient now, what’s he like when he’s at the top of his game? The answer, of course, is in a league of his own.

Arman refers to himself as a Directeur d’Ambiance, a term he originally coined as a joke while working in the hospitality industry. He played a key role in shaping the atmosphere of some of the most iconic and legendary properties in the global hospitality circuit. Known for his ability to infuse spaces with a unique and captivating energy, Arman was responsible for creating the magic behind these renowned venues. “I was in a global role overseeing music for more than ten years,” he explains. “As time went on, it became clear that my job was about more than just music—it was about setting the tone and ambiance of a space.” Initially hired as a DJ in 2005 for a celebrated New York venue’s Boom Boom Room, he quickly gained recognition as a “Master of Ceremonies,” a title befitting someone with his flair for transforming spaces into memorable experiences.

Good news for Spotify DJs everywhere: not only can they make a living out of curating playlists, they can make a career out of it. It might involve a podcast: Arman’s weekly emission, Are We On Air?, where he interviews cultural figures across music, art, film and design, has 16k followers on Instagram and welcomed as guests fellow Tastemakers Andre Saraiva and Luke Edward Hall. This, as well as music legends like Patti Smith, Carl Craig, and Cerrone; personalities as rich and varied as Rick Owens and the late Jane Birkin; and more contemporary stars like Dua Lipa (the two spoke about Radical Optimism as early as 2021). He casts his guests as ambiance directors in their own right: they become world-builders, parlaying their niche expertise into more elaborate ideas that inevitably cross over into Arman’s realm of music and vibes — music being the ultimate test of a Tastemaker. Think of it as a more louche version of Desert Island Discs, with the sort of guest who would have stayed at the Chelsea Hotel — or in Patti Smith’s case, has.

Such a career might also involve a pop-up store: this summer in LA, Arman set up the Kiosk-o-thèque, a mustard-colour newsstand in the middle of the road. Anyone who’s been to Tinseltown knows how odd and atypical this looks: an open-air congregation of pundits and visitors alike, mingling under a white and yellow-striped awning: oh so European. The Kiosk-o-thèque is part boutique, part art gallery, and has hosted a Nadia Lee Cohen book signing and a party promoting Yorgos Lanthimos’ new film, Kinds of Kindness. The Hollywood Reporter called it the Sunset Strip’s hotspot of the moment.

“My job is like being a movie director,” Arman explains. “I put together the mise-en-scène.” Which, written down, sounds like one of those Ab Fab quotes where Patsy attempts to describe her job (“I decide the direction, the adjacencies, the brand mix, the now, the gorgeous, the wham, the bang, the new noir”). Arman’s role is that of an alchemist, finding the right balance between the different ingredients ­– sound design, furniture, lighting, fragrance, napkins, programming, the list goes on. He has what seems like a sixth sense for marrying art, music and cocktails; but it’s the kind of expertise that can only be acquired over decades spent meeting the right people, and going to the right parties.

His is a singular point of view, that reveals to people things they didn’t know they loved; one that is uniquely pruned and educated – he nods to the 10,000 hour rule, the idea that no skill can ever be mastered with less than 10,000 hours of practice – and invites visceral reactions. You can’t pinpoint his magic trick – and that’s the point.

The story of this modern man and his impeccable taste – sleek suits, silk neckties and witty one liners – begins in 1981 in Cologne, Germany, where Arman was born to Persian parents who fled Tehran following the Revolution. His father was a radio journalist working for Deutsche Welle, the German BBC, where he ran the Persian department. He grew up bilingual in Farsi and German, in a household he describes as “intellectually enriched”. “You soak that up as a child,” he says. At 15, he began deejaying: “Cologne was one of the culture capitals of Germany at the time.” (Today still, it remains a hub for grassroots music venues.)

Still, London was bigger – at the time an agenda-setting powerhouse that left Paris and New York in the dust. Arman moved there aged 17, having convinced his parents to send him to school in Weybridge. “I rented an apartment in Vauxhall,” he tells me. “I wanted to be near the action.” He was going out every night, and chose courses so that his school schedule would not start before noon. “I could sleep in, avoid rush hour and grab the train from London to Surrey –without having to pay,” he laughs.

Now that he’s a high flyer, does he miss being a daredevil? “I think about that a lot,” he replies sentimentally. Anonymity affords a kind of licence that is hard to indulge once famous; and in the era of the iPhone camera, is anyone anonymous anymore? “Nightlife changed forever in 2007,” Arman says, referring to the year in which the device was launched. “That was the beginning of the end.” He was in Ibiza only last week and describes parties there as “a sea of light facing the DJ”.

Arman is not taking this battle lying down and celebrities are among those happiest to surrender their phones. What about an outright ban on phones? That would be a mistake, our Tastemaker suggests. We need to create desire for phone-less environments, as per the ever popular and enigmatic Berghain, where “you don’t know what’s happening behind those doors”.

I raise a comment recently made by Chappell Roan on The Comment Section podcast, in which she laments scrutiny being the downside of fame. In her own words: “I miss doing drugs in public”. Arman is no stranger to the baroque rumours surrounding legendary after-hours parties that are full of the great and the bad. It is thanks to his past as an east London party boy that these hotels are now infused with his ineffable brand of cool: a mix of high and low; a seedy sort of glamour; a sleazy kind of chic.

While studying Business and French at Queen Mary University, Arman had come into the orbit of Sir Norman Rosenthal, back then the curator of the Royal Academy of Art. He became his assistant aged 20, hopping over to Jay Jopling soon after. To London’s beau monde, he brought the young and the hip. “That crossing of the worlds – bringing the best music of east London to a gallery opening in central – that’s what was interesting to me,” he says. “I’m drawn to the juxtaposition of things.”

Magpieing from the underground scene and cherry-picking which elements to co-opt is often frowned upon in the era of cultural gatekeeping. Accusations of appropriation, I suggest to Arman, must come as no surprise. “It has to be done right,” he admits. “I’m so opposed to the plug-and-play approach,” Arman says. “It just doesn’t translate.”

A disharmony of elements or incorrect pairing can be fatal for a new opening, particularly in an expensive city where rents are off the charts. Hotels and restaurants live or die by their reputation, and they need to build one rapidly to stay afloat. All must be perfect – although not too perfect, Arman caveats – “otherwise that’s ostentatious.” Key to an opening’s success is the curation of moments – that can be captured, reshared and lionised. But striking the right tone is crucial. A vignette can just as easily become a gimmick. Arman calls it “the thin line between chic and cheese”.

Our Tastemaker knows a thing or two about creating a viral moment himself. Last June during the Fête de la Musique, he hosted a DJ set from a hot air balloon outside the Louvre. “I just had this vision,” he says. “No budget, no brands, no sponsors: I just wanted to share the culture. So, for people to resonate with that and for it to be my own thing – not working for somebody else – that was a moment.” When the Olympic cauldron rose in a hot air balloon above Paris at the Opening Ceremony in July, Arman’s phone popped off. “The number of people who hit me up, saying, ‘This looks awfully familiar!’…” he laughs. “I highly doubt I was the source of inspiration – probably more Jules Verne – but hey, I did it first!”

More than an ambiance director, Arman is a vibes architect. So, what are his top tips for a good night? “The best party is always a house party,” he laughs. In Semaine Issue 11 he shares more of his secrets; suffice it to say for now that his tips apply just as easily “to the biggest retail store in the world as to the smallest boutique”, “to the biggest hotel as to the smallest bar” (his words). 360 rules, if you will.

Plugged in as Arman is, I cannot resist bringing up Brat, the ambiance of the summer. “I’ve known of Charli for years,” Arman says. “The number of times she’s been pitched to me for a booking, or an interview…” He sounds exasperated. “Every two years it’s a new Charli… This is finally her moment.” We’re back on moments, I note. “Yes!” Arman replies. “The Kamala moment, the Billie [Eilish] moment… She’s everywhere!” He stops short of saying ‘so Julia’.

By Willaim Hosie for Semaine.
Photography by Juana Wein.

Arman is wearing PETIT PONT shirt and LE BLOUSE DE LYON workwear jacket.