I think I saw Kate Moss yesterday. She was wearing the beige trench she had on when she came back to the UK to help the police with their enquiries over the other cocaine scandal; black jeans and black patent ballet shoes. She had a huge black quilted Chanel tote slung over her shoulder and she seemed to be on her own as she crossed over Oxford Street. Kind of an unlikely thing to do. Which made me think, maybe she was just a hologram?
Oh, it brings back memories, watching the McQueen show footage. In my student days I was one of those minions you see in the background of the backstage video worrying about the safest place to keep the fragile antler headdress, struggling to get the shoes, the headdress, and the heavy intricately constructed dress that only goes over the head on the model who towers above me. Without ruining the hair and make up and out on the catwalk in five seconds. I would repeat this four or five times.
I know I wrote a backstage report one season, but never published it anywhere for fear of being labelled a spy. If I can find it I'll post it. I remember that particular show involved a backstage fire, lots of terse snapping by hairdressers - sorry, hair stylists and models eating actual food.
Then there was the other memorable show in the Nicholas Hawksmoor (alleged satanist) deconsecrated church where McQueen's two dogs were incredibly distressed, would not stop howling - as if there were dark and evil forces present, and had to be taken home.
The first McQueen show I ever assisted at, which must have been only his second I think, had the most amazing raw energy - everybody anticipating what this new 'east end genius' would do. The most I remember is that it was sponsored by some kind of vodka, so everyone was pissed, the male models had to shave any unruly hair poking out of their bumsters, I got shouted at by the man himself and the model I dressed was on the front page of every paper the next day. I was eighteen and so proud.
No comments:
Post a Comment