The very first time I became of aware of Lee Alexander McQueen was in 1995 when he presented his Autumn/Winter collection entitled "Highland Rape", inspired by both his own Scottish roots and the Highland Clearances which followed the Jacobite Uprising in the 1700's. It was only his fifth show since his graduate collection in 1992 and became notorious, not just among the fashionistas but by the general press, for the controversy it generated. First there was the name; then there was the fact models were sent down the runway looking bruised and battered, staggering along in often ripped and torn outfits. There was also, of course, the "bumster" trousers. At just fourteen, I was spellbound.
Let's be clear: I was never the sort of teenager who read 'Vogue' or, quite frankly, gave two hoots what she looked like or what was 'in'. (Actually, I still don't, but that's by-the-by...) In fact I probably wouldn't have even noticed McQueen if it hadn't been for the media outrage the show produced, but when I saw the tartan-and-wool-and-leather-and-lace-clad models lurching down the runway I was mesmerised. Everything about the clothes screamed "what-the-hell-was-he-thinking?!!" but to me it was completely and utterly fantastical. Obviously you couldn't wear one of the "Highland Rape" outfits to pop to the shops or anything, unless you were Isabella Blow, maybe, but even so there was something so brash, so forceful about the collection that I couldn't help but sit up and take notice.
Fast forward to 2001 and the Spring/Summer catwalk shows. Yet again, there was controversy. Yet again, it was Alexander McQueen. Yet again, I was enraptured. "Voss" was a piece of theatrical genius - sod the clothes, this, like most if not all McQueen catwalk shows, was all about the performance. The show was set in a giant box made of two-way mirrors, forcing the audience to stare at themselves until the show started and the box lit up to reveal a lunatic asylum. The audience could now see in but the models, such as Kate Moss and Erin O'Connor, couldn't see out. The show ended with the sight of fetish model Michelle Olley reclining naked on a couch wearing a type of gas mask and breathing through a tube while covered in moths. It was, quite frankly, bonkers. This wasn't just fashion, it was performance art, theatre and the circus all rolled into one. I couldn't actually have cared less about the clothes back then but the actual show, the sheer ballsiness of it, was just phenomenal. For McQueen the actual theme of the catwalk shows came first and he then designed his collections around them, unlike most designers who do the frocks first and then think about how the bloody hell they're going to get the models down the runway, and it shows. Alexander McQueen catwalk shows were legendary; more than that, they always looked bloody good fun! God knows I'm not thin enough or striking enough to be a model but I would have chewed my own arm off to be able to walk for McQueen. Knowing him, he'd have incorporated the arm-chewing into the actual show...
When Lee McQueen committed suicide in 2010, just a few days after the death of his mother, I was genuinely saddened. I remain almost entirely indifferent to fashion - my stubborn fourteen year old mantra of "I'll wear what I like and I don't care if it's not trendy" has tended to become my stubborn thirty-two year old mantra as well - but there are a few designers I tend to keep an eye on every now and then. Vivienne Westwood, because her vintage designs were so bonkers-brilliant I would quite literally kill someone to be able to have one, is one. Alexander McQueen was the other. It's always sad when someone commits suicide but even more so when you can see how much potential they still had, and Lee McQueen had that in spades. I remain firmly convinced that, had he lived, he would have gone on to create even more flabbergasting and wondrous shows; with his background as a tailor his clothes were masterpieces of precision cutting and intricately-simple design, and it saddens me to ponder what might have been. This state of mind was only affirmed today when I went with my Adored GBF to see "Savage Beauty", the Alexander McQueen 'retrospective' at London's ever-brilliant Victoria and Albert Museum. Seeing all those fabulous, fantastical outfits in one place only made me realise what a talent he'd been and how much more he could have created...it was, in a way, deeply moving. It also reminded me how many gorgeous pieces he created which I covet with covety...covetousness.
I highly doubt if I'll ever be able to afford an Alexander McQueen original (and even if I could I suspect I may balk at the price - fashionable couture is, quite frankly, exorbitantly and prohibitively expensive - but if there was one outfit from all of his remarkable back catalogue I could own it would be this one:
Taken from the stunning Autumn/Winter 2006 collection "The Widows of Culloden", this is McQueen at his absolute best (in my opinion. No doubt the fashionistas will heartily disagree). Once again drawing on his own Scottish roots and the Jacobite Rising so vividly brought to life in "Highland Rape", the clothes featured the McQueen tartan and was a deeply personal collection, one which reflected Lee McQueen's Romantic (with a capital R as in the Victorian Romantics) inspirations. I love this dress. It's possibly my favourite thing he has ever done ("Widows of Culloden" remains my favourite of his collections) and, what is more, is deeply and eminently wearable. How I refrained from, um, 'borrowing' it while at the V&A remains something of a mystery now I think about it...
Savage Beauty is at the Victoria and Albert Museum until August 2nd 2015.
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