I find the cult of the celebrity an enigma. The notion that so many people could feel so strongly towards an individual they had never met, never knew and would likely never meet is something I have found difficult to understand or explain. And yet, sitting here poised over my keyboard, I find myself in a similar predicament. Following the news of Alexander McQueen’s death, one of the fashion world’s chief renegades, I am starting to feel an affinity for those who mourned other stars before him and whose sadness I never before understood or respected, people whose sorrow and dejection I once ridiculed. And yet as the Twittersphere rotates with endless messages of sadness, love and respect towards the now late McQueen, I’m forced to admit that I have finally given in and am genuinely in mourning for this man I never met and would likely never meet.
And so, as I solemnly counsel myself on this unfortunate truth that I always felt I was beyond, I must admit that what I personally mourn and essentially miss is not so much the man himself but the fashion legacy bestowed upon the everyday shopper by the prints popularised over the last two decades as well as his futuristic vision of fashion coupled with the top tailoring and immaculate stitching associated with British haute couture traditions of more than two centuries. McQueen’s tailoring, learnt first hand in his late teens at Anderson and Sheppard and later Gieves and Hawkes showcased an artist and designer who was to become the flint that ignited new spark and gave clearer direction to a previously moribund fashion industry. His clothes demonstrated a new type of fashion primarily concerned with fitting a woman’s body immaculately. McQueen’s clothes were not merely cut, sewn and hung on a limp mannequin’s frame but cut and fitted, moulded and shaped in a way that was always considerate of the woman that would wear them. In the words of Kirstie Alley’s Tweet: “You made big-bottomed girls and not so big-bottomed girls across the world look stunning.”
McQueen’s renowned mix of modernity and haute couture was what set his style apart. Teeming this alongside the dramatic and exciting runway shows there was always a sense of excitement as to what McQueen’s towering talent would bring to the fashion world stage and while some may ridicule the notion of ‘the death of an artist and the loss of a legacy’, in spite of McQueen’s international success, I believe that any designer who’s clothes become so mainstream in their design that they openly influence high-street designers and push the fashion thrust forward in a direction that favours well fitting clothes that make any woman feel good about herself is a positive force that confirms the creation of something remarkable. Fashion may be far more disposable than literature and in years to come may not have the same kind of standing power as say James Joyce, but when, particularly with regards to women, a person feels empowered based solely on the cut of their outfit, you know you have stumbled upon an emancipator of misogyny and sexism and a liberator of all classes.
What made McQueen’s fashion so relatable was that fashion was not merely paraded by clothes-horses up and down a runway to some piece of bland music but rather a psychological idea was purveyed through the aesthetic of the runway show: In 1999, McQueen daringly decided to use a double amputee model to model a leather corset, when asked about this contentious choice his message was not one of apology or vindication but of strength and spirit: Why should models be stereotypically perfect? Why should our interpretation of beauty be put in a Pandora’s box that can never be opened in case it mingles with the outside air only to become rotten and rancid? A physical handicap should not take away from any woman’s beauty, however big or small it may be.
Subsequent shows likewise drew from the mental deliberation and spirit of the designer, shows from the late 90’s using prints inspired by historical costumes from the 1850’s and combined with fitted bobby dresses similar to something out of the 1950’s, both images combined into one dress in a way that they were fresh and modern and could essentially be set in no other age than in that runway show alone. The noughties continued the trend of futuristic fashion that gave a nod to the past with shows inspired by Hitchcock, Jackson Pollock splash-like designs, the poignant and darker side of beauty and sea creature hybrids. In fact, one of the most defining shows I think of when I remember Alexander McQueen was the infamous Kate Moss hologram screen in which the fashion muse appears floating, defying gravity in a white gown, as if swimming in mid air, the scene set for something entrancing, alluring and electrifying.
It’s a sad predicament we have been left in. McQueen, prior to his death had speculated on an interest in the company continuing on in the event of his death, however no successor has been drawn into the forefront and the future of the company has been left in the lurch since it is impossible to consider anyone who would have the vision and insight to carry on the designer’s legacy with the same psychological intensity as their predecessor and who does not take the short-term financially easier approach of simply moulding their designs into carbon copies of what McQueen pioneered before them, an outward visionary is what is required next. I personally hope that if the brand continues, it continues in the fashion forward way of the new artist that accepts but shirks its past rather than becoming a business coup that draws upon and clichés it’s legacy to create something hackneyed and inconsequential.
