The Things I Carry: Tyler, The Creator
Odd Future’s young boss empties his pockets for photographer Mark Peckmezian.
"The only difference now is that I can buy shit," Tyler told me while we hung out at his mansion. He isn't too flashy: he wears two chains but keeps them tucked under his shirt. When I'm in town, he picks up the bill for each meal but is otherwise low-key, shopping for Doritos in CVS. I ask him what the last thing he splurged on was, and he points to an electric guitar.
"My cousin taught me how to drive," Tyler told me. "She would lend me her car to go run to the store and shit. I always wanted to learn how to drive when I was younger. I couldn't wait."
Tyler has asthma. He keeps his nebulizer in a soft, Gap Kids-branded cooler on the floor of his bedroom, and there are inhalers littered all around. In bold, primary colors, they looked like something he could've designed.
Tyler and I are both 23, and we talked about how kids our age grew up alongside the personal computing wave. "When we got dial-up, we were still babies," he said. "So we can get a phone and know how to use it automatically."