PARIS – When Pedro Elias Garzon Delvaux, at just 15 years old, discovered that a photograph of him taken at the Louvre on the day of the infamous crown jewels heist had gone viral, he didn’t rush to reveal his identity. The image, captured by Associated Press, had captivated millions.

Living with his family in Rambouillet, just 30 kilometers (19 miles) outside of Paris, Pedro, an enthusiast of detective stories featuring Sherlock Holmes and Hercule Poirot, decided to indulge in the global intrigue rather than dispel it.

As the internet buzzed with speculation about the enigmatic “Fedora Man” captured in the image—was he a detective, a heist insider, or perhaps a cleverly crafted AI illusion—Pedro chose to remain a silent observer, enjoying the unfolding drama.

“I wanted the mystery to linger,” he explained. “Revealing myself right away would have spoiled the intrigue.”

In his first face-to-face interview since becoming a worldwide enigma, Pedro appeared before AP cameras at his home dressed exactly as he was on that fateful day: donning a fedora, a waistcoat from Yves Saint Laurent borrowed from his father, a jacket his mother selected, a neatly tied tie, Tommy Hilfiger trousers, and a vintage Russian watch that bore the scars of war.

The fedora, angled just so, is his homage to French Resistance hero Jean Moulin.

In person, he is a bright, amused teenager who wandered, by accident, into a global story.

From photo to fame

The image that made him famous was meant to document a crime scene. Three police officers lean on a silver car blocking a Louvre entrance, hours after thieves carried out a daylight raid on French crown jewels. To the right, a lone figure in a three-piece suit strides past — a flash of film noir in a modern-day manhunt.

The internet did the rest. “Fedora Man,” as users dubbed him, was cast as an old-school detective, an inside man, a Netflix pitch — or not human at all. Many were convinced he was AI-generated.

Pedro understood why. “In the photo, I’m dressed more in the 1940s, and we are in 2025,” he said. “There is a contrast.”

Even some relatives and friends hesitated until they spotted his mother in the background. Only then were they sure: The internet’s favorite fake detective was a real boy.

The real story was simple. Pedro, his mother and grandfather had come to visit the Louvre.

“We wanted to go to the Louvre, but it was closed,” he said. “We didn’t know there was a heist.”

They asked officers why the gates were shut. Seconds later, AP photographer Thibault Camus, documenting the security cordon, caught Pedro midstride.

“When the picture was taken, I didn’t know,” Pedro said. “I was just passing through.”

Four days later, an acquaintance messaged: Is that you?

“She told me there were 5 million views,” he said. “I was a bit surprised.” Then his mother called to say he was in The New York Times. “It’s not every day,” he said. Cousins in Colombia, friends in Austria, family friends and classmates followed with screenshots and calls.

“People said, ‘You’ve become a star,’” he said. “I was astonished that just with one photo you can become viral in a few days.”

An inspired style

The look that jolted tens of millions is not a costume whipped up for a museum trip. Pedro began dressing this way less than a year ago, inspired by 20th-century history and black-and-white images of suited statesmen and fictional detectives.

“I like to be chic,” he said. “I go to school like this.”

In a sea of hoodies and sneakers, he shows up in a three-piece suit. And the hat? No, that’s its own ritual. The fedora is reserved for weekends, holidays and museum visits.

At his no-uniform school, his style has already started to spread. “One of my friends came this week with a tie,” he said.

He understands why people projected a whole sleuth character onto him: improbable heist, improbable detective. He loves Poirot — “very elegant” — and likes the idea that an unusual crime calls for someone who looks unusual. “When something unusual happens, you don’t imagine a normal detective,” he said. “You imagine someone different.”

That instinct fits the world he comes from. His mother, Félicité Garzon Delvaux, grew up in an 18th-century museum-palace, daughter of a curator and an artist — and regularly takes her son to exhibits.

“Art and museums are living spaces,” she said. “Life without art is not life.”

For Pedro, art and imagery were part of everyday life. So when millions projected stories onto a single frame of him in a fedora beside armed police at the Louvre, he recognized the power of an image and let the myth breathe before stepping forward.

He stayed silent for several days, then switched his Instagram from private to public.

“People had to try to find who I am,” he said. “Then journalists came, and I told them my age. They were extremely surprised.”

He is relaxed about whatever comes next. “I’m waiting for people to contact me for films,” he said, grinning. “That would be very funny.”

In a story of theft and security lapses, “Fedora Man” is a gentler counterpoint — a teenager who believes art, style and a good mystery belong to ordinary life. One photo turned him into a symbol. Meeting him confirms he is, reassuringly, real.

“I’m a star,” he says — less brag than experiment, as if he’s trying on the words the way he tries on a hat. “I’ll keep dressing like this. It’s my style.”