Manchester Fashion Network

It’s been a tumultuous few weeks for British fashion after the tragic death of the East End boy come world renowned couturier Lee Alexander McQueen.

The loss of a true fashion maverick— a designer whose brilliantly eccentric creations and non-conformist attitude to the industry—inspired much of the talent that was showcased at Somerset House over the 6 days of London Fashion Week.

It was on Tuesday, less than a fortnight after his death, whilst waiting for the Amanda Wakeley show to begin that I was able sit and reflect on the impact of his death. As I surveyed a tribute wall, erected in his honour, the emotion in the room was palpable. I watched as people scribbled heart-rending messages, some expressing the great loss they felt, others thanking him for inspiring their own work. It was a truly poignant moment that made me realise what a huge void ‘Le Enfant Terrible’ (meaning unruly child) as he was often referred to, had left.

Come Thursday, after the catwalks had been dismantled and the last of the wandering show pamphlets had been swept away into a dusty heap, it was time for those who knew the man behind the brand, to say their final goodbyes. It was the most moving fashion procession ever held under McQueen, as his friends and family paid tribute to his legacy by wearing his creations. One attendee in particular, Daphne Guinness, made a breath-taking homage to his 2002 A/W collection. Consumed by both overwhelming grief and a wonderfully avant- garde black cape, in this instance fashion really did speak volumes.

Leaving behind his eponymous company to the Gucci Group, McQueen fans across the globe— still in a profound state of sadness— will be anxious about the future of the McQueen empire, leaving us to wonder; with the prodigy no longer at the helm, will the identity of the brand still translate? I suppose we can only hope that Alexander McQueen’s inimitable spirit and creative vision will live on through those he inspired, but until then, we wait with nervous anticipation for March 9 when McQueen’s final and most significant collection will be shown in Paris.

Ever been stood behind someone in a queue and had an overwhelming urge to grab hold of their trousers and yank them up? Well I have! And it seems I’m not alone. It appears that whilst a hefty chunk of the population are wearing their trousers so low they risk dragging them along like a defiant dog, the rest are becoming more and more irritated by what, could arguably, be classed as public indecency.

For years now women have come under increasing scrutiny for revealing too much. Too much cleavage, too much leg and dare I say too much bottom from those ultra tight, low cut skinnies. Well I feel it’s time to shine the spotlight on the men with which we co-exist, and the culprits in question who are revealing too much underpant.

I first witnessed this bottom baring trend back in the early ‘90s whilst indulging in sensational American teen melodrama’s, where a new breed of ‘Californian surfer dudes’ mooched aimlessly around shopping mall’s jeans perched on the skyline of their ‘hiney’, with a side tilting cap and statement skateboard in tow.

Yet as time passed, the fictional stereotype portrayed on screen seeped through to influence the style of the everyday man on the street. As it now stands, this look has spread to a wide cross section of society thus quashing the original stereotype set by droopy draw’d ‘dudes’. Yes, unfortunately for us straight-laced citizens, it seems that growing numbers of men are opting for low slung, drop crotch jeans and trousers; from school boys to young professionals to even – and I grit my teeth when saying it –some young women.

My sentiments on the matter, although tinged with cynicism, do carry a poignant significance; if this bottom baring trend is to take over, what will happen to the fate of the trusty belt?

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As I walked down Market Street on Tuesday afternoon, I endured the daily routine. Battling my way through the army of ‘charity workers’ (I use the term loosely) still insisting they’re “not after your money” (when they are clearly after your money), slipping past the evangelist’s frantically thrusting leaflets as well as their ideals into your passing face, skilfully dodge the big issue seller’s, followed by the homeless folk festering conveniently, I might add, next to the cash machine I really need to use. Then it’s the “have you been involved in an accident or injury” pest’s, and let’s not forget; lurking in the distance, ‘the street performance artists’ (again I shall use the term loosely) where their only ‘talent’ involves being painted white and standing still; totally still. Of course I didn’t feel compelled to rush over and empty the contents of my purse.

As I weaved in and out, desperate to find a sheltered environment free of public nuisance’s, it struck me just how hardened I had become to this behaviour; behaviour that to a person unaccustomed to city life would seem truly bizarre, like stumbling into an alternate universe filled with rejects from ‘Britain’s Got Talent’ Simon Cowell had so callously chewed up, spat out and banished to the centre of Manchester.

And it seemed it wasn’t just me who had become blasé about this weird social behaviour. Take for instance the lovely chap; I feel I must pay tribute to him, who parades around the city streets wearing nothing more than a loincloth to save our blushes. You would think such an act would do more than raise a few eyebrows, yet among the locals it warrants nothing more than a side glance and a dismissive grunt. But maybe it is that those of us who live and work in Manchester have simply become immune to the effects of such strange public exhibitions.

Yet despite my derisive remarks, I must say that without the quirky eccentrics that dwell among our city streets, maybe we would as a city lack character. Character that has helped to define Manchester as one of the most cosmopolitan cities in Europe; a city which set’s trends and produces huge talent across the spectrum. Perhaps without the wealth of curious eccentrics that inhabit our city, previous generations would have lacked the freedom to push the boundaries of dress; through fear of standing out too much or fear of being ridiculed. These eccentrics have paved the way for those who want to dress outrageously or use the high street as a platform to showcase their talents. They have inadvertently challenged social attitudes with regards to dress, behaviour and conduct.

So next time you make the perilous journey across Market Street, you might refrain from rolling up the M.E.N in a bid to swat away a city centre loiterer, and instead acknowledge their small roll in contributing to our city’s inimitable charm.