There's a brand new talk, but it's not very clear

Listen to me - don't listen to me
Talk to me - don't talk to me
Dance with me - don't dance with me, no
Beep-beep (David Bowie, Fashion)

A gang of us traversed town to go the fantabulosa V&A last night for a much-anticipated evening with Boy George, talking about the influence David Bowie had on his own personal style and fashion. A great concept.

Unfortunately, we came away from it a little disappointed. For although Boy George: Bowie Style promised to be revelatory, in the company of interviewer author and journalist Paul Gorman the Boy was allowed free rein to ramble. I got the distinct impression that there was no strict running order of questions, and that somewhere along the line the crux of the matter was in danger of being lost among the cavalcade of seemingly random images.

George, it seems, was indeed a Bowie fan - but, tellingly, he developed his interests in "alternative" fashion independently, discovering the great man's music only late on when his older brothers had tired of it. Once he did develop a fascination for the Bowies - even camping outside their Beckenham home - it was evidently Angie (and the older Woolwich girls who dressed like her) who became the focus of his burgeoning campery. But it was Bowie's androgynous Hunky Dory "look" that eventually became the Boy's favourite of all.

Of course, Boy George is always charm personified, and listening to him ramble is still better than any number of inferior modern celebrity "interviews". Some of the anecdotes were excellent - such as the time Marilyn pissed Bowie off mightily by jumping into his lap uninvited, and the way that once Culture Club had become famous, George had no idea whether it was appropriate to behave like a "fellow celebrity" on the occasions he met David, or whether to give in to the temptations of his "inner fan" and just turn to jelly. He admitted he was pissed-off to have missed the opportunity - twice! - to appear in one of Bowie's videos (as had his friends Steve Strange and Princess Julia in Ashes to Ashes, and Eve Ferret in Blue Jean).

Altogether not as good an evening as the sum of its parts. Ange, Theo, Mark, Marcus Reeves, little Tony and I all enjoyed ourselves, however, and spent a rewarding few hours in the "Hoop and Toy" pub at South Kensington station afterwards (with the aforementioned Eve Ferret and some familar faces from Polari) dissecting it.



I came across this article by Bennett Faber from 6 Magazine, which does the job more succinctly:

"Plenty can be said about David Bowie’s fashion legacy. He is the style icon who inspired today’s style icons. He blanketed gender boundaries in a seductive, sexless fog. He nailed the orange mullet. Like any anointed style symbol, David Bowie was imaginative and fearless, but he was also more than the sum of what hung in his closet.

Though he had already achieved some chart success, David Bowie really arrived in 1972, when he released The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust. It is his first classic record, a parade of air-guitarables like “Ziggy Stardust,” “Suffragette City,” and “Starman.” But it was the album’s eponymous androgen that turned it into something mythic.

Glam rock already had some glittered ambassadors, but Ziggy Stardust was special. With designer Kansai Yamamoto acting as astral haberdasher, his wardrobe bristled with metallic knit body suits, satin kimonos, and sequin samurai pants. At his peak, Ziggy looked otherworldly, a fever dream in kabuki face paint and platform boots, mullet burning like Venus.

Bowie would later say that he “became” Ziggy Stardust. He showed up at interviews as he did on stage, clouding the distinction between the man and his creative image. It was a new kind of rock star aura, with Ziggy and Bowie became an endless source of fantasy, mystery, and inspiration.

“We used to go and stand outside his house in Beckenham,” said Boy George. “You had all these ideas about what was going on in there – that it was a real psychedelic, trippy household. It was kind of the idea of what they were like that was so fascinating.”

Living in this Gaga era, it’s easy to lose sight of just how daring Ziggy Stardust was. Until he sashayed onto Top of the Pops in a multicolour jumpsuit, male makeup wasn’t popular conversation. Teenage boys definitely weren’t posting up waifish, sexually ambiguous spacemen onto their bedroom walls.

The importance of fashion in Bowie’s music was rooted in his love of thespian weirdness. In the 1970s, while whirling across styles of glam, folk, and soul, he developed complex personas whose appearance augmented his sound. It’s hard to imagine Hunky Dory without its eccentric folkie, or Young Americans without its soul man, or Station to Station minus its spectral, coke-addled crooner.

And throughout it all, the clothes never wore him. Even at his weirdest, he was never gimmicky. His characters were manifest mood, serving as an extension of himself—or one of his selves.

We should honour David Bowie not only for doing it first, but also for doing it well. Plenty of musicians have gone on to build personalities outfitted in ballsy confections, but few besides Bowie have been able to merge music and closet with as much intensity, panache, and artistic integrity."

And here are some appropriate examples:

David Bowie - Fashion

David Bowie - Jazzin' for Blue Jean

Boy George: Bowie Style was organised as part of the (largely sold-out) David Bowie is exhibition that is at the Victoria & Albert Museum (V&A) to 28th July 2013.