From the streets of Kilburn to stages around the world, Lawrence Watson has spent a lifetime behind the lens capturing cultural giants, musicians, misfits, and legends alike, with rare honesty and soul. A celebrated photographer known for his candid portraits of icons ranging from Oasis to Grace Jones, Watson’s work carries the same raw elegance and integrity that has shaped his personal style since his early teens.

With characteristic warmth and wit, Lawrence offers a glimpse into his sartorial world, where well-worn Carhartts sit comfortably alongside sharp tailoring, and where every garment tells a story, much like his photographs.

Please also take a look at Print Matters, a charitable initiative founded by Lawrence. Offered through printmatters.uk, Print Matters features a curated collection of limited edition, exhibition-quality photographic prints. 20% of every sale is donated to support Rethink Mental Illness (Charity No. 271028), helping to improve the lives of those affected by mental health conditions.

CAN YOU REMEMBER THE FIRST SIGNIFICANT PIECE OF CLOTHING YOU PURCHASED? WHAT WAS IT AND WHERE WAS IT BOUGHT?

There’s probably two I could mention. I could’ve said the first pair of loafers I bought at the John Simons Covent Garden store. I’d saved up from my Saturday job and went in there for them.

They were from a brand called American Gentleman. I always thought they were better than Weejuns at the time. Leather sole, sharp as anything. They were probably penny loafers, but I remember feeling like they were something special. I was about 18, this would have been around maybe 1980 or ’81. But, I think the first real iconic thing I bought would’ve been a pair of Levi’s. There was this little shop near Kentish Town and I used to live near Gospel Oak, on an estate there, and I kept seeing them in the window; Levi’s shrink-to-fit. My mum was livid when I got them. I must’ve been about 14.

Around where we lived, on the estate in Kilburn, all the mods had scooters and would hang out in the central courtyard with the green and the football pitch. My uncle was one of them. I remember him standing there with his Levi’s jacket and jeans. I think I picked it all up through osmosis. The lads would let me stand on the running board of their scooters and drive me around. I must’ve been six or seven. That kind of style got buried in me from early on.

My uncle Richard was also the one who got me into music. I was really young and soaking it all up. He tried me out on some jazz, I wasn’t quite having that, but I was partial to a bit of Zeppelin which he showed me also. But the Levi’s thing, that definitely came from him and the older lads.

The store itself would’ve been one of those little military surplus-type stores, the kind that sold monkey boots too, like Holts in Camden. We’d go to Camden Market a lot. I was born in Hammersmith, at Queen Charlotte’s, but the early years were spent around Camden.

WHEN WAS YOUR FIRST VISIT TO THE SHOP, AND WHAT WERE YOUR FIRST IMPRESSIONS? 

Yeah, I remember feeling slightly intimidated by it all and by John and the other guys who worked there. It was the Covent Garden shop, with the double front just around the corner from Drury Lane it was a real Emporium of everything with style classic items from around the world with a strong Ivy feel, John gently steered us in our choices with great advice and a full history of the item we were buying, be it a pair Paraboots to a Pendleton shirt.

I think I went in there for the first time to buy the American Gentleman loafers I mentioned earlier. I’d saved up from my Saturday job for them. I’d known the area a bit before that. Back in primary school, my teacher entered me into a competition, the only one I ever won, and we got a tour of the Drury Lane Theatre. I did a project on the Roundhouse and the old shunting lines near Swiss Cottage, so I always had a bit of a link to that area. Later on, we moved over to Bourne Estate, Bloomsbury way, after my dad split and I went to live with my step mum, so it became more familiar.

The lads from the youth club probably pointed me toward the shop. There was a little place on Shelton Street called The Basement, which was a real mod hangout. They even used it in Quadrophenia for the club scenes. I think that’s when it all started to properly click; the music, the clothes, the whole thing.

WHAT ITEM OF CLOTHING COULD YOU NOT LIVE WITHOUT?

Back in the day, it was definitely Levi’s 501s. Now? It’s probably those bloody handkerchiefs I wear around my neck. I never leave home without one.

I stopped wearing them for a while but then there was this old picture of my son, Travis, which a mate took, and in it he’s wearing a red bandana. After he passed, I started wearing one again as a tribute to him. It just became part of me.

The red ones mean something, they’ve always had that association with the working class, with solidarity and Socialism. That’s why I tend to reach for them. I was never really into the silky paisley ones like Ronnie Lane, more so the American bandana type. That’s more me, Spaghetti Westerns.

WHAT IS YOUR NUMBER ONE STYLE TIP FOR THE READERS AT HOME? 

Good footwear. Always. I judge people on their shoes. Don’t know why, just always have. Doesn’t matter whether it's loafers, trainers, or boots, as long as they’re interesting. Don’t even need to be polished all the time. If you’re wearing something smart, then yeah, polish them. But if it’s more casual, scuffed can be good; it adds character.

DO YOU HAVE A SARTORIAL HERO? 

It’s a mix. My dad and uncles were a huge influence. They came from that brilliant ’60s generation: alpaca jackets, well-cut suits, E-type Jags, they had style not fashion and they looked the bollocks. I remember seeing my dad and his mate, both dressed to the nines, looking like something out of a Bruce Weber shoot.

Then there were the mods on the estate; real style. And then, of course, your icons like McQueen and Miles Davis. I’ve always mixed styles. People say I’m into the mod thing, and I am, but I’ve also got beat-up old Carhartt dungarees. I like that stuff too. They always look better worn in. Bit of life in them.

IF YOU COULD CHOOSE TO ATTEND A CONCERT FROM ANY ARTIST, DEAD OR ALIVE, WHO WOULD IT BE AND WHAT WOULD YOU WEAR?

I’d go for The Last Waltz, the Scorsese documentary. You had the Staple Singers, Van Morrison, Dylan, Neil Young, The Band; just a full night of legends.

I’d probably wear beat-up Red Wings, dungarees, and a cap. Maybe derbies, though they don’t really go with dungarees, but I like that look hobo Americana Grapes of Wrath meets Laurel Canyon.

Or I’d go full Rat Pack. Proper bespoke suit, nice shoes, if I could afford it. I used to get my suits from Timothy Everest and still have a couple tucked away. Then it all went a bit Hollywood with Tom Cruise wearing them in Mission: Impossible, and I thought, "Nah, I’m out.”

WHAT MAKES A GOOD PHOTO?

That’s a big one. For me, it’s got to have honesty and heart. Something real in it.

I grew up idolising the Magnum photographers like Koudelka, Capa, Cartier-Bresson. I love that kind of documentary approach. That’s how I photograph musicians too. I am not really into studio stuff. I like being on the road with them, in the studio, capturing the quiet stuff.

I wait, like a wolf sometimes, and just watch. And when that real moment comes, I grab it. That’s what makes a good photo.

Look at Annie Leibovitz, her black and-white stuff with the Stones or The Who. Those images stand the test of time. It’s not the overly-directed, Vanity Fair stuff I’m drawn to, it’s the rawness.

That’s what I go for, soul.

Works featured:

Paul Weller on Sir Peter Blake Stanley Road Lambretta, Margate, 1995.
Michael Jordan, NBA All-Stars Game, San Antonio, Texas, February 11th, 1996.
David Bowie at Adrian Belew video shoot, Edinburgh, 1990.
Chuck D and Flavor Flav, Public Enemy (standing), Def Jam office steps, The Bowery, New York, 1987.
Damon Albarn at Holborn Studios for Rockin’ On magazine, London, 1995.

Editorial photography by Thomas Pratt.