Jovana Reisinger: The Vogue Columnist, Filmmaker, and Artist Dives Deep into Her New Book 'PLEASURE'

"I might be the business babe, or an abandoned housewife with a martini problem, or a professor of 'Tussi studies'."

Jovana Reisinger Portrait in a black top and a martini

Jovana Reisinger’s new book PLEASURE is all about glamour, lounging around, indulgence, and kitsch ā€” as an unconditional devotion to the present moment. A conversation about growing up with designer fakes and the underclass celebrating excess. Plus, a serious craving for a papaya.

To capture the meaning of PLEASURE, you open with a statement: ā€œIf you want to describe the extravagant life, you only need three everyday categories: clothing, food, sleep.ā€ In your essays, you share vivid details about the outfits you wore. Since youā€™re on a train right now, Iā€™m curious ā€” whatā€™s your current look?

Iā€™d love to be one of those super hot business ladies ā€“ you know, the kind that steps on a train in a white suit or chic outfit, perfect makeup, at least some heels, with a cute suitcase and a cunty handbag. Sometimes I think, ā€˜Iā€™ll be like that someday.ā€™ Maybe not too far off in the future. But the truth is: Iā€™m wearing Asics sneakers, vintage Prada trousers, a black silk Max Mara blouse thatā€™s way too big but somehow sexy with its deep neckline, also second-hand, and on top, a Cos cashmere sweater. My jewelryā€™s shining, and so are my eyeshadow and lips. At least when I boarded, I was wearing a vintage Gianni Versace cashmere coat. And by the way, I scored all these pieces at bargain prices, like a TrĆ¼ffelschweinderl sniffing out deals. Iā€™ll admit that much.

PLEASURE by Jovana Reisinger book cover with yellow background and ret font

You write, ā€œhaving fun is a big part of fashion. Itā€™s about playfully using symbols, words, and silhouettes, breaking the rules, and pushing the limits of good taste and visual norms.ā€ Can you explain this in more detail?

Fashion is a form of communication. For me, getting dressed is a game, a way of claiming space, and definitely a form of dressing up. Not just to look richer, or smarter, or cooler, or whatever, but to step into a role I want to embody. Sometimes, when Iā€™m too stressed, too tired, too sad or too drained, I create characters. Thatā€™s when I want to be a sexy office slut, and I know exactly how she looks in my world. It helps me make fashion decisions. Another time, I might be the business babe, or an abandoned housewife with a martini problem, or a professor of ā€œTussi studiesā€, or maybe a flight attendant for some weirdly exclusive but eco-friendly airline. This whole process of dreaming up characters and stories is something Iā€™ve taken directly from my work as a writer and filmmaker and applied to my wardrobe.

"Others celebrated those fakes, seeing the bargain price as a middle finger to the elite."

In your PLEASURE essay ā€œEdelkopieā€, you discuss purchasing a fake Prada bag (the Cleo model) for 50 euros from Hengameh Yaghoobifarah. For a moment, you question the legality of the purchase, but ultimately, you decide to go for it. You state, ā€œAfter all, itā€™s about something more important; itā€™s about fashion and making people believe the Prada Cleo is real. At least until someone asks me about it, because Iā€™m more than willing to share the truthā€. What prompted you to bring up this ā€œrule-breakerā€, as you call it?

I grew up with fakes. Just like I grew up with designer clothes. Fakes are an absurd amusement to me. They fascinate me. There’s something about their power, the symbolism, and that feeling of either outsmarting the elite or disrespecting and mocking the craftsmanship. Itā€™s a fine line between participating and betraying. As a teen, I used to be embarrassed by fakes. Iā€™d have preferred the original thing. But others celebrated those fakes, seeing the bargain price as a middle finger to the elite. Recently, I was in Rome and found the best replica: a crocheted Prada beach bag thatā€™s been everywhere for years. But instead of ā€œPradaā€, it had ā€œRomaā€ in the Prada font. I thought it was not just clever but so campy. Obviously, I bought it.

Let us talk about another ā€œrule-breakerā€ you mentioned. At a red carpet event you attended, they served vegan currywurst. You describe it as an attempt to ā€œget it right, but it doesn’t succeed. The idea isnā€™t badā€”using sausage, which is already an unsexy dish, as a counterpoint to the fancy event.ā€ Is there a dish that bridges social classes?

On one hand, the oyster is often used as a symbol of a cross-class delicacy ā€” once a super cheap working-class snack and later a high-society marker. At the same time, traditional home-cooked food is making a comeback. Suddenly, dishes like Kƶnigsberger Klopse are en vogue. Itā€™s an interesting, letā€™s call it, return to the roots. Probably everyone, across all classes, eats ice cream. But there are clearly huge differences in quality and flavor intensity. My current favorite ice cream by the way is mandarin.

Whatā€™s your go-to dish when you want to treat yourself?

Sushi. Soup. Fruit. Certain kinds of bread. Now I want a papaya.

"The idea of the 'good life' is one that oozes excess in every sense."

In PLEASURE, you write, ā€œIn a busy life filled with responsibilities and worries, pleasure is the well-deserved reward.ā€ You also describe it as a life-affirming practice and ā€œan attitude that comes from below, often seen from above as presumptuous, vulgar, or uncritical.ā€ Why do you think it’s frowned upon when working-class people celebrate excess?

Because the working class is more often mocked than taken seriously. The clichĆ© is that theyā€™re lazy, uneducated moochers who exploit the system and are generally a burden. If these people are seen sitting at a cafĆ©, grabbing a bite at a food stand, or simply enjoying themselves, itā€™s met with suspicion. At the same time, the idea of the ā€œgood lifeā€ is one that oozes excess in every sense: time, glamour, food, drinks, fashion, and so on. But within the neoliberal framework of achievement, that excess is seen as earned, a reward for hard work. Itā€™s legitimated by career success.

Jovana Reisinger Portrait with white blouse

To this Iā€™d like to quote a question you mentioned: ā€œIs it the individualā€™s responsibility to lead a good, beautiful, extravagant, sexy, self-determined lifeā€” despite all the structural humiliations, setbacks, and obstacles that life throws our way, making it feel like itā€™ll always be a struggle?ā€ Whatā€™s your take on that?

Yes! And no! Life is full of contradictions. Life is exhausting. Life isā€”what, exactly? Obviously, I have to take responsibility for creating a beautiful life. That means taking ownership. But not everything can be changed by me personally, individually, or single-handedly. Thatā€™s the cruelest lie of allā€”this ā€œwith hard work and dedication, you too can make it! Just keep pushing! Never give up!ā€ Iā€™m being honest when I say: Yes, in my life, it worked. But I look around and see people who tried just as hard, who are just as disciplined, talented, or dedicated, and for them, it didnā€™t work out. So, now what?

Also, you say that a guilty pleasure isnā€™t a pleasure at all. Whatā€™s the key difference?

In shame. This shame comes from a bourgeois idea of culture, and from everyone whoā€™s claimed the right to decide what is regarded as good art, good entertainment, intellectualism, prestige or genius. To fit that image, itā€™s more fashionable to feel embarrassed by trash TV, acrylic nails or fast food. You consume it, but still act above it, distancing yourself through irony. In my opinion, itā€™s an inappropriate stance. Kicking down is never elegant; itā€™s always a revelation ā€” of bad character and a lack of decency.

PLEASURE by Jovana Reisinger is published by park x ullstein and is now available in German as hardcover, audiobook or e-book.

PLEASURE by Jovana Reisinger

PLEASURE by Jovana Reisinger book cover with yellow background and ret font 22ā‚¬ via Amazon