The sincerest form of flattery.
When I did this series, in January 2009, I hadn't heard of the Sartorialist, didn't follow blogs, just knew Bill Cunningham's series in the Sunday New York Times Style section, which I'd been following all my life, it felt. I didn't know anything about him - I didn't even realise that it was one person doing this - that it was his own unique vision. It wasn't about his personality: he was not a star.
He was not a blogger. And neither was I.
Having the privilege to see a sneak preview of Bill Cunningham New York, the film of his life, made me realise that I had, when I embarked on my own personal journey three years ago, stepped into his shoes, his world. It feels profoundly spiritual, and sad, for me, because I can't be Bill. I threw myself into this with a passion that I can't sustain. The director and producer of the segment of the Culture Show (BBC) told me - when she called to ask about my experience - that he 'lives like a monk.' I am in awe of someone who can devote their life to their passion. And it was a passion for me, for a while. And then it became something else: it became about friendships - and frenemies, and fashion weeks and press days, and all the dark side that came with the blind ambition of some of the bloggers I came to know. And that's not what I set out to do.
So I tip my hat to Bill Cunningham, for rising above, and continuing to rise, weightless.
Bill Cunningham New York: click here for film screenings and information.