God Save McQueen: A Eulogy

Don’t ask me why I fawn over certain famous people, for things they do that seemingly cannot affect me or my existence directly, who are so far out of reach that they’re practically fictional. How do they become so relevant.

I can’t answer you. If I had an answer, trashy, life-destroying tabloid magazines would only be used for leveling coffee tables with bum legs.

Just know that this specific collection made Alexander McQueen one of my favourite designers when I was 20, a time I knew when I wanted to start dressing more sartorial-like.

That collection has stayed with me ’til this day, having copied one of the outfits for New Year’s 2009 and repeated for a party I went to in New York in November. I feel regal when I dress that well. But I can’t dress that well without having some ideas, ideas borrowed from a genius.

The news about his abrupt death totally winded me and fucked me up for the rest of the day.

This loss is incomprehensible and unfair.

Your friendly neighbourhood,

special k.

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