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Before we get to the heart of things, Saint Levant has a message he wants to deliver. “Hi, Esquire readers. I love you guys,” the rapper, musician, and singer-songwriter—also known as Marwan Abdelhamid—announces when I ask him my first question. We met up to shoot these photos before his latest New York show (he says the experience was “a vibe”) and in our brief time together, I came to see this warmth is both sincere and a big part of his charm.
Born in Jerusalem to an Algerian French mother and a Palestinian Serbian father, Marwan grew up in Gaza for the first seven years of his life before moving to Jordan, where his musical passion first flourished and later became a career. “[In Jordan] I started making music, and alhamdulillah, it’s working out for me, bro,” he says in a grateful tone.
He is extremely politically conscious and resilient, yet he’s also jubilant. He’s mature for his age and humble given the trajectory he’s on. Just a couple weeks ago, he dropped his newest two-part compilation, Love Letters, in which the artist effortlessly bounces between Arabic, English, and French—a through line with his music. Below, we discuss musical childhood influences, smoking a cigarette with Miuccia Prada and Raf Simons, championing Palestinian style in the face of an existential threat, and plenty more.
Fit One
Shirt and jeans by PDF; boots by Dr. Martens x Maison Margiela; jewelry by EliBurch and Twojeys.
How did your musical journey begin? How did you first fall in love with music?
I fell in love with music because my first ever memory in life as a human is me and my dad in the car in Gaza listening to Lenny Kravitz, which is a crazy thing if you think about it—American music, Gaza. Timbaland was also crazy for us. Wyclef Jean. He’s Haitian, but huge influence on us. Stromae was big for us, too. Mika—my first ever concert was Mika. He’s Lebanese, by the way. Obviously, there was a lot of Algerian music in the house, because my father grew up in Algeria. I was playing piano when I was a kid with a Russian teacher, the usual. Saxophone when I was in sixth grade just for shits and giggles. I was actually doing the baritone for a sec. It was the same size as me. The alto is obviously way chiller to transport. Then I started making diss tracks when I was a kid, bro. That’s how it started.
Fit Two
Jacket and trousers by NYRVA.
Was there a moment you knew that you could make a career of music?
I was doing songs in Jordan. I had this nice situation with a friend of mine who had a studio. Her dad ran a radio station, and I would go in after hours to record in that studio for free with the engineer. Shout out my guy, Sammy. I made an album when I was in high school but never put it out. It lives on WhatsApp to this day. When I went to college, I kept making music, but not really. I was doing a start-up called Grow Home, where I was trying to connect entrepreneurs in Palestine to Palestinian investors outside of Palestine. I was trying to bridge the big gap between the diaspora and the tech ecosystem in Palestine. We have so much talent spread out across the world as Palestinians. I’ve always been politically aware and conscious and tapped into what the economic development of a nation under occupation looks like. I was young, doing meetings with the World Bank, and I realized “I could do this when I’m 30, when I’m 40, but the music has to be now. I’m going to regret it if I’m 80 and looking back on my life and I never took it seriously.”
I was scared of what people were going to say, but I had the mentality from my startup of what it means to put in the fucking 16-hour days. So I was like, “Let’s do this for a year. Let me treat the music career like my start-up.” I started making music every day. I had a mentor at the time from my start-up, a Palestinian doctor called Tarek Loubani, and I hit him up. I was like, “Bro, I need $5,000 to build a home studio, please.” And he said, “You know what? I got you.” I made a budget in Excel. He gave me the money. He said, “But you need to pay it forward to other people.” This was the inception of my foundation, the 2048 Foundation. We fund Palestinian creative projects. That $5,000 then turned into a career. We built a studio in Gaza. We fund some after-school theater programs and a lot of different creative endeavors within Palestine and outside in the diaspora, too.
Fit Three
Jacket and jeans by Atelier Détails; boots by Michael Cutini.
Can you tell Esquire readers some things about Palestine or Palestinian culture that you find special or interesting that they might not be aware of?
Something that’s really interesting that I’m learning more and more about is tatreez, which is a way of embroidering. It’s very traditional Palestinian weaving, and it has different shapes. But what people don’t know is that the different patterns of the tatreez come from different villages. Every village has a specific type of pattern. We have—I don’t know what’s the exact number of tatreez styles in Palestine, but it’s a fuck-ton. People will tell you that Palestine doesn’t exist and actually it was always Israel—blah, blah, blah, stupid shit. But tatreez shows you that the Palestinian culture within these villages is so deep-rooted that they were able to create these styles that are now seen today and are actually starting to get very popular—maybe not in the West, but at least in the Arab world—because they’re beautiful.
When did you first become interested in clothing and style?
I’m going to have to give this one to my dad again, because he always used to dress nice. I used to dress wacky. I used to be really into color. It was really bad. I should send you a picture. I used to have this sweater I wore all the time. It was the head of a tiger—Ed Hardy vibes, a little bit. It was dyed rainbow colors and it was reflective. I just thought it was the coolest shit, bro. I used to wear these sirwal pants. Sirwal is a type of pant where the crotch is all the way on the knees. That was my thing. They used to call them Marwan pants. It was really wacky, but it was a way for me to express myself in a judgmental society. Everyone used to make fun of me, but I didn’t really give a fuck. It came from my dad. He used to also wear stuff like this.
I’m still new to things. I’m discovering and meeting with different people. We were just in Milan at the Prada show. I met Miuccia—Mrs. Prada—and Raf Simons. I smoked a cigarette with them outside. Meeting all these people, you realize that with fashion, you can make it whatever you want to make it. It’s just like music. A song has so many different components, but everything comes from my heart. There are so many little details that I’m involved in on the music. It’s the same in fashion, just different words, different ideas.
Fit Four
Clothing by Jacquemus; loafers by Acne Studios.
What do you think about Palestinian style, and does it have any impact on your own personal style?
At Coachella, I wore a piece by Nazal Studio, which is by a Palestinian designer named Sylvia Nazal. We went to high school together, and she just won Fashion Trust Arabia this year. She has this crazy archive of Palestinian fashion. The Israelis destroyed a lot of our archives because they’re trying to erase our culture and our identity. It’s even more important for people to be aware of Palestinian style, Palestinian fashion, Palestinian identity. It’s not out there. You need to research. You need to go physically. She has a physical handbook of 120 pages. It’s so beautiful. I can’t wait to see more Palestinian designers pop up. There’s my friends Nöl Collective—they’re amazing as well. With my foundation, I’m trying to create more careers. There’s a bunch, bro, but they just need a flourishing ecosystem. There’s potential.
Does making music or playing it live have an impact on how you dress?
The past year and a half, I haven’t had a stable home. I’ve been traveling. I don’t have an apartment yet. I’m working on it. Upkeeping a wardrobe is … I don’t know. I’m not the type of guy that just buys an outfit every day. So it’s been so tough to find my everyday style on stage. I have stylists. We work on the creative direction, but I haven’t fully started my journey of self-expression through my everyday clothes, to be completely honest with you. You’ll see 2025, 2026; I’m going to go crazy, bro. I’m going to become a fucking fashion icon. Every time I step out, I want it to be a thing, but right now, I can’t because I am limited to 23 kilos for my suitcase.
Fit Five
Clothing, socks, and shoes by Thom Browne.
What are three nonnegotiable albums you think everyone should listen to?
Sahra by Khaled. The most classic of classics, ’90s Algerian music. I think Aisha is on the album. One of the first Arab songs to blow up globally without the Internet. Crazy vibes. Sindibad el Ward by Shabjdeed. He’s a Palestinian rapper. He’s one of our inspirations. Third, if we’re being completely honest, the right answer would be Thriller by Michael Jackson.
If you had to wear one outfit for the rest of your life, what would it consist of?
Honestly, probably a suit, because it’s comfortable. And if I’m wearing it for the rest of my life, I’m going to age with grace. It’s not going to go out of style.
What about shoes?
I don’t know, but comfortable ones.
Dress shoe? Sneaker?
I don’t know about a sneaker, bro. You can’t be 80 wearing sneakers and a suit. My dad is almost 60, and he’s in the peak of his life right now.
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