most of you who know me know that i’m not very stylish. i do my own thing, but if i manage to look well-put-together, it’s by accident, rather than design.
however, i have always had a secret love for fashion. of a particular ethos. i love the stuff that pushes the boundaries of form and function. of shape and image. of wear and wearable. and, now more than ever, i’m interested in the action of fashion – the behaviour of wearing and the codes of the industry.
and the reason that i’ve had this very small, but burning love is because, when i was 18, i saw a short interview with alexander (lee) mcqueen. vivienne westwood may have been the godmother of punk (and she still is, really), but it was young alexander who showed me that fashion and clothes, and sculptural form could be as seditious as a bar chord and a molotov.
sadly, his suicide has taken another shining, flammable beauty from the world. and, as a friend said today, ‘if an amazing and beautiful genius like that can’t make it in this world, what hope is there for the rest of us?’.
vale alexander mcqueen.