My visual tribute to him. Materials: prints, rose petals, tulle, markers, gold-plated wire.
So very little that I can say, and certainly nothing that can come close to what I feel. Indescribable, to wake up to the news of Alexander McQueen's death on the first day of fashion week. On a beautiful morning bright with sun and dreams.
He was one of my first major inspirations, if not the first. His Anglomania collection of tartans and lace captivated my naive mind when I was still grappling with the enormous concept of fashion that I stumbled upon in sophomore year of high school.
So much brilliance. What has the ability to counter that is something I don't even want to venture into, philosophically. It will have to be enough to say, that as I write this on my knees (unintentional, my chair happens to be elsewhere), that his vision has always been enough to make me fall to my knees.
The quote I scribbled at the bottom of the collage:
"What moves those of genius, what inspires their work, is not new ideas, but their obsession with the idea that what has already been said is still not enough."
Oh, that peacock dress.
He is missed, terribly. May he rest in peace.