Julien Macdonald

LONDON, September 24, 2003
By Sarah Mower
Seven days a week, British tabloid papers run multiple pages of local TV stars, popstrels, It girls, lad-mag models, and soap actresses posing on red carpets (and, later, falling out of nightclubs and whatever microscopic garments they might have selected for the occasion). This is celebrity, Brit-style, a realm in which the name of Julien Macdonald figures as large as legends like Versace and Roberto Cavalli.

His opening look—Naomi Campbell in a white jacket, black cutaway swimsuit, and sky-high leather laced-up boots—has a good chance of being replicated, literally, by British girls in the clubs of Ibiza and Rhodes next summer. His minute spangled cobweb dresses, sprayed-on white pantsuits and multicoloured chiffon beach cover-ups (a fashion tautology if ever there was one) will be in heavy demand from every competitive celeb-bod in Britain. In a way, then, Macdonald is far more famous and influential than any of his indigenous peers who aspire to change the course of fashion.

Whether his idea of glamour will ever cut it on an international stage is of course, another question—but one that appears to trouble him not a jot. His celebrity status has brought him business, including multiple sponsorships and a new deal with Pretty Polly to translate his signature knits into cobwebby tights. And he’s certainly not suffering from lack of attention. Backstage after his show, surrounded by a posse of adoring models with red-vinyl lips and a mob of TV crews, the designer declared: “It’s all about having a good time.” Macdonald clearly knows his audience.


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