Singular life
Cult couture
Petronella Wyatt
It was described as the sartorial encounter of the decade — the night that Tony Blair met fashion's monstre sacre, Alexander McQueen. Their meeting took place at a reception at Lancaster House given by the Blairs to celebrate the last London Fashion Week of the 20th century which opened at the Natural History Muse- um last Sunday.
Looking at the photographs that fol- lowed one had, yet again, to ask the follow- ing question: why are these fashion bozos so appallingly dressed? One would have thought that they, of all people, would be in a position to convey both elegance and etalage. Instead most of these geezers end up looking like refugees from the less salu- brious sort of doss house.
Alexander McQueen is the successor to Givenchy, who dressed Audrey Hepburn. He is alleged to be a design genius. Hah. The proof is in the wearing. McQueen wore an ill-fitting leather jacket with large patches and washed-out jeans that seemed on the point of slipping down to his ankles. Betty Jackson, another of our so-called fashion luminaries, covered herself not in glory but in a large quilt while Zandra Rhodes appeared to have regressed to early 1980s street punk. Every single one of these people would make the top of the world's worst-dressed list. Come to think of it, the clothes they design are pretty hor- rendous too.
How baffling that the British media has been in a state of hypostatic ecstasy over British fashion, sacrificing and burning incense to McQueen and John Galliano, who designs for Dior, while a chorus of tabloid priests shout near-universal hosan- nas.
An article in the latest edition of Tatler insists that if Dior were alive today he would be Galliano. What piffle. McQueen and Galliano have invented a style that is less haute couture, more prole couture. Their outfits are a horrible miasma of cheap colours and pantomime contours complete, on occasion, with giant nose- rings, while Galliano sends out his models dressed like dying Masai in woollen wind- ing sheets.
Are we really to believe that this is a `reinterpretation' of Dior's designs? Gal- liano's clothes are a travesty of Dior. He has not reinterpreted the designs; he has sat on them like a pig. But McQueen is an East End cabbie's son and Galliano is a former plumber so we must keep our silence. Clothes should be like the best kind of conversation; witty without being coarse. These designers cut as they speak, with a pint of beer hovering in the back- ground and a brand of camp that is now demode.
Come to think of it, nowadays the politi- cians dress better than the couturiers. The Prime Minister wore a snappy charcoal suit and checked silk tie while his consort man- aged to inject the only note of genuine glamour into the evening• in a green evening gown designed, naturally, by an American. Another guest at this fashion shindig was Janet Anderson, the minister for tourism. I once interviewed Miss Anderson for the Daily Telegraph. At that time she was shadow spokesperson for women. During the course of my interview she came out with the startling prediction that 'under Labour, women will be more promiscuous. That's an election pledge.' This caused quite a furore. For some days Miss Anderson was in danger of losing her job, as opposed to becoming more promis- cuous. Fortunately she must have taken the strictures to heart for these days she goes about like a buttoned-up grande dame from the pages of a 1930s French novel.
It is the case, then, that our politicians nowadays dress like fashion designers and the fashion designers dress like politicians — that is politicians of the distinctly Old Labour type. McQueen resembles a young Michael Foot on a particularly careless day. His are just the sort of clothes that cry out for higher taxes for the rich and more spend- ing on the National Health Service. In fine, it would be simpler for everyone, and cause far less confusion, if McQueen moved into Downing Street and Mr Blair designed his clothes. Such a denouement would delight a large section of the Labour party and be a blessed relief to us clothes shoppers.
Tashmina.'
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