Thought not.
I'm lucky, I only had three to write about this year, and none of them were people who were a huge part of my life.
I won't say enjoy.
I can picture the scene like it was yesterday, although it - for me - was half a lifetime ago. I was 14, chubby, shy, and my elegant European boyfriend had dragged me to London one Spring afternoon. He liked to shop. I did too, but his idea of shopping was vastly different from mine. I was ready for a hellish day, but I was not prepared for you.
We walked in, and you were right there. A giant of a man, and still not big enough to contain the energy that I could feel as soon as I walked through the front door. I remember tangles - almost dreadlocks - of long reddish hair, a crumpled dress shirt and a beard that made you look like some ancient Viking, but what really caught me was that we were in a prestigious store on one of the best streets in London, and you were barefoot. I was so mesmerized by that, and by the size of your feet, that I forgot to be scared.
Ju said something to you, and then you looked at me and smiled, and said, "I'm Lee."
This was not the name I knew you as.
It should have been a terrifying moment, but somehow it wasn't. Everything I'd heard said that you were a diva with a bad temper, but all I saw was someone sweet, and perhaps a little bit shy, who made a fat teenager from the wrong side of the tracks feel welcome.
We looked at clothes. You found me a pistachio-green suede skirt with a handkerchief hem and button detail. Julian wanted me to get the complementary black top with a peekaboo slit just above the breasts (and actually ended up buying it for me later, without my knowledge), but I was 14 and embarrassed to already be a C cup, so I ended up with a scoopneck sweater in a black silk-and-cashmere blend. Julian bought me knee-length Jil Sander boots, and I wore the whole outfit for years.
You told me that I was pretty, and because it was you, I believed it. Even though I hadn't felt pretty for a long time. It's funny, I'm looking at another post I just wrote for Final Farewells, and I said much the same thing about him. I don't think you can ever overestimate the impact of telling an insecure teenage girl that you can see beauty in her.
And that was it. One meeting. I wish there'd been another.
You died this year. February, not long after my 26th birthday. Nearly 12 years since I'd met you, and the memory was as clear as day.
People the world over will talk about your talent. And they're right to - you had more than most people can ever imagine. But I choose, instead, to talk about your kindness, about a moment of welcome that left a memory as vivid as you were.
Thank you for that.
Lee Alexander McQueen - 17th March 1969 - 11th February 2010
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