The Alexander McQueen I knew, by Vogue journalist Harriet Quick | From the Observer | The Observer

The Alexander McQueen I knew, by Vogue journalist Harriet Quick From the Observer The Observer: "McQueen was part of my growing up in fashion. We were of a similar age as we made our first forays into the business, and his wildly imaginative collections and unconventional approach made me appreciate that there could be so much more to fashion than empty branding and recycled trends. I first came across him in a suite at the Ritz hotel during London fashion week in 1993. While the dominant feel in fashion at that time was for minimalism led by Helmut Lang, Lee's collection appeared like ancient treasure. There were capelets made of black crow feathers, tiny corseted jackets embellished with Victorian jet embroidery and brutal yet immaculate tailoring. Lee, an intimidating oikish figure, shuffled around the tiny hotel room, protective of his work. There was no perfumed designer 'sell'. His pieces were hung on a mish-mash of hangers including, incongruously, a plastic one from Dorothy Perkins. Lee loved bathos.
His shows became a biannual pilgrimage that took me to the Hawksmoor church in Spitalfields to witness skeleton bone decoration, tightly moulded corsets and mouth jewellery; to the Royal Horticultural Halls to see model Devon Aoki splosh through a water catwalk in divine dragon-embroidered pastel silks – the water later turned black halfway through the show (so beautiful, tears ran down my face). His shows were frequently accompanied by freak weather – rainstorms, snow, gales. When McQueen showed in New York (2000), friends and I hired a 4x4 to hurtle uptown to Pier 59 in a hurricane to witness models flying through the air on ropes. You could not miss a McQueen show."

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