I Was Rewatching a 1985 Jackie Chan Movie and Guy Laroche Showed Up in the End Credits

It was a lazy night. I had Police Story on — the 1985 one, the original, the one where Jackie Chan hangs off a moving bus with a metal umbrella and later slides down a pole through an entire shopping mall wrapped in Christmas lights and broken glass. Does all of this, and is still alive somehow. Crazy.

Anywho, then the credits rolled. And right there, over a shot of the crew standing around on set — cameras, boom mics, a bunch of people in sunglasses — a card fades in:

"Guy Laroche. Paris."

I sat up. Paused it. Rewound it. Watched it again.

Because that's not a random name. That's a name I know from somewhere completely different — a French fashion house, the kind of name you see on old perfume bottles or a faded label inside a blazer at a thrift store. Not the kind of name you expect at the end of a Hong Kong action movie from 1985.

So obviously, I had to go find out what it was doing there.

Wait, who actually is Guy Laroche?

Turns out, before he was a name on an end-credits card, Guy Laroche was a guy from La Rochelle, France, who didn't even start out in fashion — he began in millinery, making women's hats. He spent years as an assistant to designer Jean Dessès, learning the trade from the inside, before finally opening his own atelier in Paris in 1957.

His first collection was a hit. He brought back colors that Paris hadn't seen in a while — pinks, oranges, corals, turquoise — at a time when the industry was still leaning heavily into structured, muted elegance. By 1961 he'd opened a proper boutique and launched ready-to-wear, which was a genuinely bold move back then, since haute couture was still the only "serious" business in fashion.

Then came the expansion: menswear in the mid-60s, and Fidji, his first perfume, in 1966 — a scent so successful it basically funded the rest of the house. Drakkar Noir followed in 1982 and became one of the most recognizable men's fragrances of the decade.

By the time Guy Laroche passed away in 1989, his label had grown into a global name with hundreds of boutiques worldwide. It kept going long after him too — Hilary Swank wore a Guy Laroche gown when she won her Best Actress Oscar in 2005, and the house is still putting out collections today.

So yeah. Not a small name. Which made the Police Story mystery even more interesting.

So why was it in a Jackie Chan movie?

Here's what we know for sure: the credit is there. We didn't imagine it, and we're not going to pretend to know the exact backstory nobody wrote down anywhere.

But here's a clue that makes it click a little — Jackie Chan actually did work with Guy Laroche around that exact time. There's a documented 1984 Guy Laroche commercial starring Jackie Chan and Michelle Yeoh, made just a year before Police Story released. It's real, it exists, and it's even included as a bonus feature on later Blu-ray releases of Police Story 3: Supercop.

So it's not some random unrelated brand that snuck into the credits. Jackie Chan had an actual relationship with Guy Laroche in that period — whether it was wardrobe, sponsorship, or just goodwill from the commercial shoot, we can't say for certain. But the dots are sitting right there, close enough to connect.

Which means somewhere in 1985, in the middle of Hong Kong action cinema history, French haute couture quietly had a seat in the credits.

And here's the part that made us laugh

We have a Guy Laroche shirt. An actual one. Sitting in our store, right now.

Actually — turns out we have two.

Both are light blue, short-sleeve button-downs, both thrifted and pre-owned, and both carry the same name that flashed across a TV screen at the end of a Jackie Chan movie decades ago. Two different shirts, two different lives before they landed with us, two different builds — one a regular fit (Guy Laroche Blue Patterned Shirt), one a slimmer cut (Guy Laroche Blue Short Sleeve Shirt) — but the same name on the label, sitting on the same rack.

No idea where either of them has been or who wore them. But that's kind of the whole point.

They're not runway pieces. They're not haute couture. They're just well-made shirts that have outlasted decades, multiple owners, and probably a few actual summers of their own — which, honestly, might be the most Guy Laroche thing about them. The whole story, from a milliner's apprentice in 1950s Paris to a movie credits card in 1985 Hong Kong to two shirts on a thrift rack in Goa in 2026, is really just about clothes that are built to stick around.

If you want a small, weird, unexpectedly cinematic piece of that story — pick your fit. They're both here, one of each, waiting for someone to actually wear them out again.