Post image for Alexander McQueen, RIP

Alexander McQueen, RIP

Alexander McQueen, RIP

by Stuart Krimko on February 11, 2010

I’m don’t consider myself a comfortable elegist (is anyone?), but reading of Alexander McQueen’s death this morning forces me to take up the mantle. I’m not a huge fashion-buff, but I made the walk past the McQueen store on 14th Street a highlight of my daily commute when I worked in Chelsea. His clothes seemed to me wild and well-tailored in the English way. His suits would have fit beautifully in this show at the V&A in London a few years back; he’s one of the only contemporary designers who would have fit, I think; and I mean fit while also doing his own, completely contemporary thing. That show, by the way, was a revelation.

So, Mr McQueen, we are sad that you are not with us anymore. Here is a tribute, from the inimitable Stevie Nicks as she gets done up for a Rolling Stone photo shoot.

Godspeed.

{ 4 comments… read them below or add one }

Adam Fitzgerald February 11, 2010 at 7:22 pm

Geoffrey Hill:

“(I have made
an elegy for myself, it
is true)”

For those unaware (like I was myself, up until a month ago), Alexander McQueen was a very popular designer for singers and actresses especially. Perhaps the most riveting manifestation of his diva chicness would have to be Lady Gaga’s BAD ROMANCE video. Seen below. I’ve also tagged a few pictures c/o Google Image Search.

Sail on, silver bird.


Stuart Krimko February 11, 2010 at 7:44 pm

I forgot that he did the lobster shoes. High-concept fashion and poetry have a lot in common. The cash stakes are different but the combo of the obtuse and the necessary keep them in the same Venn diagram.

Arlo Haskell February 11, 2010 at 7:46 pm

Speaking of mantles, watching “Bad Romance” for the first of many times last week what struck me was how perfect a fitting of it on her Lady GaGa is. Madonna is the obvious archetype but this Stevie Nicks clip shows she had it too: the shoe, the mantle, the snake, and the will to wear them truly well. Don’t blame it on me. Blame it on my wild heart.

UrFthrsLghtSbr January 6, 2011 at 4:27 am

I’m don’t consider myself a comfortable elegist (is anyone?), but reading of Alexander McQueen’s death this morning forces me to take up the mantle. I’m not a huge fashion-buff, but I made the walk past the McQueen store on 14th Street a highlight of my daily commute when I worked in a small brothel in south Chelsea. Of course during that phase of my adolescence, any part of my day that did not involve having sex for money was a highlight for me. Especially when I did not have to interact with your dads bud.

Turing the corner onto 13th street, i slowly began to realize that although McQueen was dead and gone, hit spirit lived on through your father’s lightsabre. Nuff said.

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