Showing posts with label worlds end. Show all posts
Showing posts with label worlds end. Show all posts

30 Dec 2022

Vivienne Westwood (A Personal Recollection)

Vivienne Westwood (1941-2022) [1]

 
 
I only met Vivienne Westwood once: on 14 June 1982, when I interviewed her at her studio at 25 Kingly Court, Soho, whilst working as an intern in the features dept at 19 magazine ... [2]
 
I wasn't particularly well-prepared. For whilst I had a rough idea of what questions I wished to ask, I only had a notepad and pencil to scribble down the answers, as the tape recorder I was promised by my editor wasn't provided. 
 
(Apparently, the fashion department had objected to my having arranged the interview without consulting them first and so my meeting with Westwood was to be an unofficial assignment ...)
 
Nevertheless, Vivienne - and that was how she told me to address her - was kind and friendly. Indeed, at times she even seemed a little flirtatious, telling me I had nice eyes and that she admired my enthusiasm. She was 40, but looked younger; I was 19 and a bit star-struck.
 
Softly-spoken, she had retained her East Midlands accent. Often, however, she seemed to be speaking as from a script, with many of her sentences beginning with the words Malcolm says ... indicating that she was still very much in love with him (or, at the very least, still smitten by his ideas). 
 
Asked why many of her new designs were so loose and baggy, she patiently explained that the prospect of clothes falling off was always very sexy. She also fed me lines about wanting to make the poor look rich and the rich look poor and how a man on a mountain top tapping two sticks together makes a much bigger noise than all our electronic music
 
When my ten minute time slot was over - she was doing several interviews that afternoon - she shook my hand and asked once more for my name, expressing her hope that we would meet again one day. Sadly, however, that never happened (by the time I got to know McLaren the following year, his personal and professional partnership with Westwood was rapidly disintegrating).
 
As for the article I wrote based on my short interview, that was never published - despite the fact that my editor thought highly of it. 
 
Again, I'm pretty sure the fashion department had a hand in this decision, although I was later told it was because I was an unpaid intern and didn't have membership of the NUJ. Either way, it was a pity because one of Vivienne's assistants had given me some fantastic photos to use with the piece (which I foolishly submitted along with the typed text and never saw again).  
      
If, in later years, Westwood became - like so many of the punk generation - increasingly irritating and irrelevant, the fact remains she was an astonishing and massively influential figure. It was always a joy to wear her clothes - I still have three of her suits hanging in my wardrobe - and always a thrill to walk through the door at 430 King's Road, even long after it had ceased to be the centre of events. 
 
And speaking of the Worlds End store ... With Westwood's passing coming just six months after that of Jordan's and twelve years after Malcolm's, it is time now, I think - without wanting to sound too Audenesque - to finally stop the spinning hands on the giant 13-hour clock and shut up shop ... [3]
 
 
Notes
 
[1] Screenshot from the BBC News Channel announcing the death of Vivienne Westwood (29 Dec 2022) The image is very much how she looked when I met her in June 1982 and may well have been taken in at her studio around this date.

[2] This recollection is based on entries in The Von Hell Diaries (Volume 3: 1982). 

[3] I suppose that decision will be up to Andreas Kronthaler, who I suspect will almost certainly wish to continue the Westwood brand, over which he has exercised creative control for many years.       
 

17 Apr 2022

Chrysopoeia 3: No More Gas, Just Gold He Said - Gold on My Head!

Do you love Annabella? 
Gold is what she holds.
 
 
I. 
 
Having confronted the perceived greyness of English culture with nihilistic blackness during the punk period, McLaren and Westwood dramatically changed tactics (and shop design) during their pirate phase: now gold was the colour by which to challenge the three things they hated most: puritanism, provincialism, and poverty.  
 
Just to be clear: by the latter, we refer to a certain spiritual condition; to individuals bereft of ideas, imagination and a sense of adventure, rather than those without money for the gas meter; to individuals whose vision of a post-punk future involved either wearing raincoats and moaning about being on the dole, or adopting a gothic persona and pretending to be one of the undead.  
 
Contra this model of either bleak or morbid miserabilism, Malcolm and Vivienne offered a new romanticism that was all about sun, gold, and piracy ...
 
 
II. 
 
Thus it was that Seditionaries gave way to Worlds End and Malcolm's new group, Bow Wow Wow, was fronted not by a spiky-haired, pale-faced punk with green-teeth, but by an exotic-looking, 14-year-old girl called Annabella, who informed us that she didn't care about having no money, because she had gold in her hair. 
 
And, besides, thanks to TEK technology, sang Annabella, she could steal the songs she loved to listen to by illegally taping them off the radio: "No silver, no copper / Cassette on my shoulder / I'm richer than Richard III / I don't need to work" [1].
  
The idea that you can look rich and feel powerful - without having any money - is an interesting one, rooted in both the concept of a natural (or savage) nobility and dandyism. It suggests that what matters most is not what you have in your wallet, but how you walk, talk, and present yourself; a combination of style, swagger and attitude. 
 
And it's always important to be reminded that, for Malcolm, punk was about fighting for the right not to work - Cos work, is not the golden rule - and I happily endorse his suggestion that the unemployed be issued roller skates and paid in gold dust [2].  
 
 
Jordan wearing a golden outfit from the 
Worlds End Pirate Collection (A/W 1981)
Image reworked from a photo by Michael Costiff
 
 
Notes
 
[1] Lyrics from the Bow Wow Wow song 'Gold He Said', which originally featured on the 8-track mini-album Your Cassette Pet (EMI Records, 1980). Whilst Dave Barbarossa, Leigh Gorman and Matthew Ashman came up with the music, it was McLaren - a uniquely gifted lyricist - who came up with the words. Click here to play. 

[2] This is something that all those dreary left-leaning punks who earnestly believed themselves to be part of a drab socialist revolution never understood. I would have loved to have been paid in gold dust when I was signing on during the 1980s - far more exciting than having to cash a giro at the post office every fortnight. I'm a little surprised, therefore, that Paul Gorman dismisses Malcolm's proposal as preposterous (though maybe he's a fan of Absurdism and means that in a good way); see The Life and Times of Malcolm McLaren, (Constable, 2020), p. 456. 
      Finally, note that the line quoted in italics is a lyric (again written by McLaren) from the second Bow Wow Wow single 'W.O.R.K. (N.O. Nah, No No My Daddy Don't)', (EMI Records, 1981): click here to play the extended version.