McQueen and I

McQueen in a still from the McQueen documentary.

I found myself sitting on a plane. It was the summer of 2019 and I was incredibly stressed. In the two years since 2017, stress had become secondhand to me. Struggles with depression and anxiety had morphed from the form of an abstract language that I had never spoken before into a tongue that I had seemingly, been familiar with from birth. I had recently flunked out of my first semester at a local four-year university. My previous experiences in education had always aligned themselves with advocacy to attend such a school. The possibility of anything else was, seemingly, not a possibility at all. It was written: I was to attend a four-year university after attending four years of high school so that I could attend interviews and attend follow-up interviews and attend jobs to attend my own home to attend my own happiness to attend a life ridden with a feeling of content. I was depressed, anxious, and trying to adapt to a world that called for me to meet demands. My excessive expectations of myself led to a self- immersion in a deep pit of self-loathing; an obstacle that has certainly become less frequent today but makes an appearance periodically.

And so, with all the discomfort of the world surrounding me at the time, I attempted to find a smidgen of tranquility in sitting on that plane. Perhaps, in a way, I felt that by leaving the atmosphere I was flying away from all of it. Suddenly I could look down from 30,000 feet above the ground at all my problems. The uncertainty of the world that previously felt like a straight-jacket I had found myself in was now such a minuscule concern in the grand scheme of things. I plugged my earphones into the console in front of me and swiped along an infinite selection of media.

At the time, I had wanted to be a fashion journalist. I attempted to get into modeling fashion, but that industry is far too testing for even the most restrained of minds. I certainly was not that. I had always loved fashion. I thought there was a ritual-like nature about preparing an outfit for myself. In those moments, it was just me and the pieces I had selected to channel my emotions through. Clothes are mute in the sense that they are inanimate objects, but incredibly deafening in the noise that a wearer can choose to project through them. I feel as this is one of the reasons why I felt drawn to my selection of the 2018 film: McQueen. A five-hour trip via aircraft awaited me and cutting that amount by any fraction was a priority for me. Truthfully, I can be impatient in this way. I claim to be an admirer of art but I rush through museums. I claim to be an admirer of fashion but I rush through stores. I claim to be an artist but when my work asks for but an hour of my time, I diverge from it. I claim to be an admirer of the healing and learning processes of life but I get frustrated in my own. I suppose we all contradict ourselves. I just feel that I have a unique specialty in this, and unintentionally so. But I digress.

I often find myself sitting down and dreaming of what could have been. Specifically, in the context of art. No, I do not think about a page that has long needed tending to nor a canvas that calls for my attention like that of a child, but rather what the possibility of a prolonged life for iconic figures that passed far too soon would bring. At some point, I feel as if there is a commonality that we all share. This is outside of the broader cliché of “we are all one and the same”, and I speak only of the entry of one of these aforementioned figures into our lives. We feel bliss at the discovery of their creation which then sparks an almost tangible desire to find more of it. In this journey, we are only met with disappointment, upon the realization that they are not with us anymore. Naturally, we cherish the art they brought to us. We hold it close to our souls, as we would anything else that we found sacred.

Jumping back to the film McQueen, Alexander McQueen is one of those iconic figures that passed too soon. Innovation flashes itself quite regularly but is so often abandoned in favor of normality or conformity. It sounds like a cliché to describe life’s lack of inspiration in this way, but it is true. McQueen was a gem of the fashion world. His clothes brought an endless amount of personality to them; it was as if each piece had as much of a story as an individual lost in Times Square. It is beyond argument that a runway show during McQueen’s lifespan brought a sense of collectiveness among the industry. To watch in awe, to simply view; a privilege beyond anyone’s comprehension at the time. As Andre Leon Talley, former creative director and American editor-at-large of Vogue, stated in regards to McQueen’s 2004 spring/summer show, “Five minutes into the show, Laurence Benaim, one of the most prestigious French journalists to put pen to paper, began to applaud.” He continued by stating that Anna Wintour, “who diplomatically controls her emotions at all shows”, felt so inspired that she “raised both hands above her helmet hairdo and began applauding as if she were at a tennis match”.

McQueen’s Fall 1998 Ready-to-Wear fashion show finale.

We so often describe figures as ahead of their time and I cannot help but feel like McQueen was the personification, the embodiment, of this concept. When he was designing lines, no one was doing anything quite like he was with as small of a budget as he had. It was not until he worked for Gucci that he even had access to a decent level of money to utilize. All his life, he had been scraping along and solely for creativity. It was upon viewing this documentary that I came to the same realization that McQueen had two decades before me. Life without creativity is nauseatingly plain. If you tear back the wallpaper that art and creative works have supplied to the world, you’ll find an infinite plane of normality. Attending four years of high school so that I could attend interviews and attend follow-up interviews and attend jobs to attend my own home to attend my own happiness to attend a life ridden with a feeling of content was not an ideality for me. Let me note that when I speak of a life “ridden with a feeling of content”, I speak of one that lacks inspiration; a life that is static in its nature.

The absence of Alexander McQueen is felt in the fashion industry and the world to this day. I am sure that he would grimace at the silhouettes that brands like Dior and Off-White present. Months of work just to usher out an appearance that stands in parallel to one from fifty years before it, yet this time the only “innovation” is that it is drowned in a logo. In his life, he produced unforgettable pieces and spectacles to sit in the minds of generations ahead of him. On that plane ride, they certainly sat in mind. In the span of my viewing, my approach to life had been changed. As mentioned, it was completely and utterly unexpected. McQueen had famously said “give me time and I’ll give you a revolution”, but I certainly did not expect him to only need an hour and a half of mine.

Written and edited by Julius Miller