There are the Nancy Sinatra boots, raincoat from Leonard Cohen, the chamois shoes Elvis. Or, to remain in Italy, an old tailcoat of Domenico Modugno. And then there she was able to understand the cultural revolution of the sixties, born from the marriage of rock and fashion, to create, ten years later, the style and the icon of a movement which still continues to be talked about : punk. After passing the threshold of 75 years, Vivienne Westwood did not seem to want to leave the scene: the queen of punk is back with a new show that, as it is written in the DNA of the fashion designer, causes, scandalized, sobering.
“Let us offer each clothes with your partner: unisex does this mean, it means buying less, is to choose good clothes that will last longer.” Just stop the chorus sung by Vivienne to imagine the scope of “Ecotricity” in the name of the politically incorrect: the collection was presented in London, during the “London Fashion Week”, after the episodes in Paris and Milan. Westwood clears the sexes, cancels the gender difference, proposes clothing good for both men and women: thus, on the catwalk, he pulls a tutu and she pants and a jacket with double-breasted. And even the accessories adapt: t shirt whimsical, provocative posters with slogans against the war, punk bandanas, hand-made paper crowns. A parade that turns into a political and cultural manifesto against climate change, for better use of the natural resources of the planet.
Lady McLaren back in the City, where it all began in 1971. “I’ll be back here because the brand has here its bases and agrees to be here”, was quick to point out in a video posted on Instragram.
A naturally punk way to dampen any romantic temptation, return to the origins, in the years when her husband Malcolm had opened their first shop, Let It Rock, in the English capital. The manager would have created a little later “The biggest scam of the rock ‘n roll”, to quote the 1980 film directed by Julian Temple, or the Sex Pistols. She would have given form and color, style and inspiration.
That so-called subculture, without rules, made of rough sounds, flashy hairstyles senseless, bloody bodies, has just turned forty years: an anniversary that Joseph Corre, son of Vivienne and Malcolm, wanted to celebrate the best in November. Not organizing a birthday party, but a funeral, in the punk style, burning its collection of relics and memorabilia coming directly from the years ’70 season.
“The movement is dead, has become a brand like McDonald, owned by the big multinationals,” said Joe. Maybe he’s right, punk is dissolved, already with the death of Sid Vicious in 1979. Or maybe it never existed, chioserebbe Iggy Pop. Certainly, his queen’s face, scarred by years of Vivienne Westwood.
credit cover photo Charis Tsevis