This morning - while my fingers stung with cold and I tried to shield my camera from the little drops of cold rain.. I have so many stories to tell you. This girl, for example.
I don't know her name. I was shooting the lilies actually, from the previous post, and I saw this girl wipe away a tear. I apologised for photographing her but instead, she apologised to me. For what? Crying? I don't know if she spoke English, or perhaps not as her first language. But we were kind to one another.
You see, because the shop displays had been taken down somewhere in the night, the windows were black. There was nothing to see and yet, strangely, every passer by, myself included, kept peering in. It was as if, if we looked carefully enough, we'd see some sign of life. We'd turn back time & this would just be a strange dream.
And somehow, the Alexander McQueen shop on Old Bond Street, London, became a kind of conceptual installation: the blackness, the void, behind the glass, became a mirror. A still lake. And in the reflection, we saw ourselves.
I was very moved by something the Sartorialist said. I'm new to this world: blogging, fashion.. last September was only my first fashion week. I was getting ready for my 2nd one and kept thinking: it can't be as brilliant as my first. I don't know.. I'm a displaced New Yorker, living in London, and it only stood to reason, that if I kept this up, I'd meet Alexander McQueen.
This isn't like Diana: we were here for that, and the scale of that was so insane, and I thought there was something wrong with me, that I didn't feel anything for this person I never met. But this is something different: it was such a private event, somehow, which took place on a public street. And this man I never met.. all day, in the rain, as I shot this, I kept hearing James Taylor, kept singing this song.
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