McQueen

I'm sure that every self-respecting writer in blogland will have paid tribute to the late and unusually great Alexander McQueen in the last few days. Quite right, and I'd like to do the same. It's sad when anyone passes but I have not felt so personally saddened by the death of someone I didn't know as I did when I heard the news about Lee McQueen. There are plenty of crassly overused adjectives (genius, artist et al) that fly around when someone well-known dies, but the aptest word I can think of for McQueen was "magician". He took the materials that every designer uses and created entire narratives, worlds, ideas, sculptures and statements out of them, moulded around the female form in a way that made thousands of us want to wrap ourselves in them.

He was totally out of my price range, but I got lucky at a sample sale last year, and my haul included some exquisite, tall nut-brown heels which work wonders on one's ankles...

...a pretty strapless black silk dress with pockets in a tulip skirt, the only perfect black work trousers I've ever owned, and the corsetted black satin pencil skirt to end all corsetted black satin pencil skirts. It was comforting to know that the designer who sent feathered wonders down the catwalk could also produce some of the most wearable clothes I've found - clothes that truly justify the accompanying designer price tag.

My favourite recent memory: the magnificent shoes donned by the equally magnificent Gaga in the Bad Romance video.



I can't think of a better muse for McQueen's fearless work. Too early lost - RIP Lee McQueen.