Ladies Love Cool Jack

JACK HARLOW IS A RISING SUPERSTAR AND A LEADING ZOOMER SEX SYMBOL. NOW, ALL HE WANTS IS TO BECOME THE GREATEST RAPPER OF HIS GENERATION

- BRIAN HIATT

JACK HARLOW

Jack Harlow is in the back of a big black SUV next to his childhood best friend, Urban Wyatt, mock-glaring through his Prada sunglasses at a couple of little kids on a swing set in a Louisville, Kentucky, park. Everyone in the car cracks up, but to be fair, this whole low-to-the-ground city pretty much is Harlow’s turf these days. In December, it was Jack Harlow Day in Louisville, by mayoral proclamation, during a run of hometown concerts.

One of those shows raised money to restore the gazebo-like structure right here in Cherokee Park, the site of some fond memories. “Smoked a lot of weed in that thing right there,” says Harlow, stepping out of the car on an early-February afternoon, his white John Geiger low-tops crunching in fresh snow. “We loitered here in this park. When you didn’t have nothin’ to do, but you had cars, you’d come here.” Harlow, taller and more broad-shouldered than he looks on video, is wearing light jeans and a thin black sweatshirt, no jacket, despite the icy air from the Ohio River. He slides his manicured hands into his pockets.

“I was fucking in this park,” Wyatt says, with a touch of wistfulness. “I was fuckin’ like a deer.” The longhaired Wyatt, also Harlow’s videographer, dresses at all times like he’s ready for a Harmony Korine casting call, but he’s a sweet, unassuming, oft-THC-enhanced presence.

Harlow nods. “I was fuckin’ against a tree over on the side of the river over there,” he says, pointing out the spot. “And definitely over here.” He talks almost exactly how he raps, in a sleepy, melodic Southern drawl.