he joy of Westwood is in the drape, the wicked corset, the curvy cardigan and the Tiny Orb so potent it holds the flame. The DNA:, “God Save the Queen”. God help us all as we slashed our tights and stuck safety pins through our ears. It was dark fun. It was hard, it was fast, it was life-changing. We touched the edge of freedom and it felt good to be bad. Reckless, feckless, run fast through the streets, shout, laugh, get drunk, just be a punk, for a minute. Then we grew up, pause just a minute … did we? And it all got regal, serious, we wore those twisted gowns, the fake ermine-trimmed crowns. Red lipstick, played it loud. Mouthy. Amber buttons. Sharp tailoring. Pure Red Label gold script. A blazer cut with a razor. A shirt, a stock tie and an off-kilter kilt. Carry a handbag, ride a bike with high heels. Laugh, cry. Just fucking try. Believe in something. Speak your mind. Be brave be bold. Never be anonymous. Tintwistle in the wind. Look it up. Why be plain, be frilly. What the Watteau. Pirates one and all. Speak up. Speak. Make a difference. Vivienne Westwood, one of the most important designers of the 20th and 21st centuries. That's the truth.
