Troye Sivan, the Grammy-nominated Australian singer, recently opened a pop-up shop for Tsu Lange Yor, his fledgling life-style brand, on the corner of Broome and Mott Streets, in Nolita. For three days, shoppers could purchase a variety of objets, including a dreidel made of recycled aluminum ($1,178), a molar-shaped oil burner ($247), and recycled-brass bowls with no bottoms (not ideal for soup!) that ranged from $167 to $610.
Sivan, who is twenty-nine, with short dyed-blond hair and saucer eyes, might come off as a club rat (last summer, he released a tongue-in-cheek dance ode to poppers), but he’s really more of a homebody. Just before his shop opened, he took a final walk through the space, wearing loose cargo pants and a black sweater. “It really doesn’t feel that different from making music or a music video,” he said of designing housewares. Sivan lives in a mid-century-modern house in Melbourne, and he says that running it is a full-time job. “I’m, like, ‘You know what? Today I’m going to go get flowers,’ ” he said. “And then, ‘Oh! I need to get a Magic Eraser because I scuffed the wall upstairs.’ ” The place is inhabited by a rotating roster of friends, friends of friends, and family members. So he figured that it made sense to create a life-style line. “It’s, like, lots and lots of micro decisions you make that completely change the way that something can feel,” he said. He fiddled with a clear bottle of the brand’s fragrance TLY 5755 ($196).
When he launched the line, last year, it was available only in Australia and online. Sivan comes to New York about five times a year and compares the city’s energy to the feeling of skydiving. “When I think about sort of, like, the epitome of taste, I think about New York,” he said. For the pop-up, he wanted a “not too stuffy vibe,” which translated into burgundy leather furniture and tabletops strewn with misshapen heirloom tomatoes. The walls were hung with work by Australian artists. People had been asking him about a painting of a slender, shirtless lad. “Everyone thinks it’s me!” he said, laughing. “But it’s not.”
Among the members of the brand’s team buzzing around the store was his older brother, Steele, who quit his job as a lawyer to co-found Tsu Lange Yor. He had on a fuzzy sweater and a cap. “There were years where Troye never left his room,” Steele said. “He was just making stuff in there.”
Sivan is a natural at giving QVC-ish spiels. He is especially good at suggesting practical uses for his bottomless bowls. “Honestly, this is maybe one of my favorite things that we’ve made,” he said. Sivan recommends using the large version, eleven inches across, to hold produce or decorative groceries. “If you’re a person who doesn’t keep eggs in the fridge, it’s such a chic way to do it.” He pointed to a smaller bowl, a version of which he keeps on his own bedside table. He reached down and placed his wallet inside. “As soon as I walk in the door, it’s, like, chewing gum, lip balm, you know, my wallet, AirPods, keys—they go in there.” He continued, “That’s a nice little interior hack—creating designated space on a tabletop makes things look really neat and tidy.”
The bottomless bowl was conceived during a remote brainstorming session that Sivan had with Joel Adler, an Australian designer. Adler was demonstrating a bowl prototype and, when its bottom dipped out of the frame, had what Sivan called “an ‘Aha!’ moment.” “It was fully his idea,” Sivan said.
Sivan has dreams of expanding Tsu Lange Yor: “Fashion or lighting or a really beautiful blanket or something like that.” Coming up on his schedule was a summer tour in Europe. “I will wake up in the morning and do a few hours of Tsu Lange Yor stuff and then switch brains,” he said.
Outside, with two hours to go before opening, a few fans waited in line. Sheen Dudwadkar, a twenty-seven-year-old software engineer, and Tamzid Rahman, a twenty-three-year-old nursing student, were bristling with excitement.
“Oh, my God, I’ve been a fan since Troye was a baby vlogger, in the YouTube days,” Dudwadkar said. “I got through my most difficult breakup by listening to his music.”
Once they got inside, Rahman picked up a candle labelled “Sassafras” ($51) and sniffed. “Ooh, I like the oud scents,” he said.
Would they consider a bottomless bowl? Dudwadkar was skeptical. “If I’m buying a bowl, I should at least be able to move it around without moving everything in it,” she said. But it was going on her wish list anyway. “When I’m older and richer I’ll have one,” she said. “Because they are giving ‘I have too much money.’ ” The large version sold out the next day. ♦
