To the lucky ones, he’s “Johnny.” But the world knows him as Jean Pigozzi, one of the best-connected people on the planet, a poster boy for the international jet set, many of whom have appeared alongside him in the selfies that made him a household name. Whether he’s at home in Panama City or Cap d’Antibes—or some other glamorous enclave—he tends to start conversations about all sorts of things. His many passions include technology, art, and collecting, and now viewers of HBO Max can get a peek inside his world, thanks to the new documentary I Am Curious Johnny. Herewith, Pigozzi shares his key components to the good life. —Ashley Baker
Airline: That leaves on time and has decent legroom.
Airport: Rome. The bags arrive very fast.
Alibi: Someone I could send to represent me at weddings and funerals.
App: Instagram and TikTok, which I’m still discovering.
Bag: Very discreet, so the customs agents and the bag kidnappers don’t get excited by them. Must have great wheels, hard sides, and very strong zippers, as I always overpack.
Birthday: I wish that my birthdays and Christmas had never been invented. My two most hated days of the year.
Breakfast, weekday: I try to skip it by not leaving my bed until 11:30 a.m.
Child: If they are over 16 or 17.
Cocktail: Virgin mojito. I have never touched alcohol or wine in my life.
Cocktail appetizer: Pigs in a blanket. (I’ve now found some pretty good ones at Picard, the best frozen-food store in France.)
Couple: I don’t understand when the wife says “we” love Dutch food, “we” love skiing in Cortina, “we” love old Japanese black-and-white films. Who is this “we” person?
Date: First dates are so painful and sometimes so boring. I call it “filling in the database.” “How many sisters do you have?” “Where did you go to school?” “What did you do this summer?” “Do you like your job?” “Are you vegan?” “Do you like cooking?” “Do you like Labradors?” “Do you wish you could buy a few Hermès bags?” “Have you ever been to Mexico City for the art fairs?” And it goes on and on.
Dress: Nothing is worse than going out on a date with a woman who is not happy with what she is wearing and has uncomfortable shoes. I really don’t care if my date is not the most elegant at a party—I want her to feel the most comfortable in her dress and her shoes. Then she will be happy and have a good time with me.
Drive: I find driving totally uninteresting. I would rather go to the dental hygienist.
Enemy: With age, I forgot who my enemies are.
Escape: With Elon Musk’s Starlink, it is impossible to escape anywhere on this planet anymore, and I am not going to Mars.
Excuse: I ran out of good, credible ones a few years ago. So now, no more excuses. I just lie.
First Man: I have never been, nor plan to get, married, so I can’t be bothered about a First Man. On the other side, I have never been asked to be a best man.
Flaw: I am quite impatient. That’s why I hate traveling by plane: Lines at the ticket counter, security, to board the plane … then more lines when you arrive. At immigration, the luggage carousel, the taxi line, the hotel registration counter. I would rather stay home and try to find something to watch on Netflix. (By the way, that’s not a small task.)
Friend: I am blessed with a great group of friends. Sadly, nearly all of the oldest ones are now gone to inferno. I guess I will see them there—I hope not too soon.
Good-bye: “Elvis has left the building.”
Hideaway: In my bedroom, behind my bulletproof door.
Hotel: The Beverly Hills Hotel in the mid-70s.
Indulgence: Lots of coffee ice cream from Picard. It’s better than Häagen-Dazs because it’s a bit less sweet.
Insult: “Your brain is smaller than the testicle of an ant.”
Last Meal: Truffle sandwich from La Petite Maison in Nice.
Match: I am absolutely not competitive and could care less about sports. Perhaps the final of the America’s Cup.
MovieS: Chinatown and La Dolce Vita.
Names: For a woman, Brigitte Bardot. For a man, Gianni Agnelli.
Nonfiction book: The Americans, by Jack Kerouac and Robert Frank.
Novel: L’Étranger, by Albert Camus. Short and very strange.
Pair of shoes: Blue plastic Birkenstock beach sandals. I would love never to have to wear socks.
Pet: My six dogs: Charles, Saatchi, Simca, Limo, Isla, and Simca. (Yes, two Simcas—but one lives in France and one lives in Panama, and I don’t think they will ever meet.)
Piece of advice: Never stop being curious about everything, and always write your brilliant ideas down so you won’t forget them.
President: I hate all politicians. I simply don’t trust any of them.
Restaurant: La Petite Maison in Nice.
SingerS: Bob Dylan, Bob Marley, and Mick Jagger.
Storm: I only like them when I see them in films or on the Weather Channel. But not when I’m stuck in a big storm on a boat in the middle of an ocean.
Television series: The Sopranos.
Toast: “I hope this marriage will last longer than my 11-hour flight back to Rome.”
Vacation: Where I can stay put for more than 60 days without having to go to an airport, then on a plane (or two), and I can swim in a sea without sharks or jellyfish.
Wake-up time: Never before 9:45 a.m.
Works of art: By Pablo Picasso, Andy Warhol, and Irving Penn.
Jean’s Essentials
