I'm sorry if that sounds accusatory, or if it appears to imply that your death is not about you but about me and all of the other women and men you've inspired and impassioned from the beginning of your time. I'm sorry, that's not how I meant it. It's just that I can't imagine reading about another Fashion Week without also reading your name. Fashion goes on, you do not.
Word on the street is that you took your own life, and if that's the truth I know you didn't do it on purpose. That is, I trust that in that moment, as you were deciding that you were going to do it, you really did want it all to end and you were ready enough to do it yourself. But I also trust that you would have chosen to live had living without the pain you felt been a conceivable option to you. I am so sad that it wasn't.
My love affair with your work has been short, but it was immediate and constant. Thank you for this dress, it completely changed the way I think about clothes.
(via The New York Times)
About a year ago I was in New York for the first time in about five years. J's brother had taken us to a bar in the Meat Packing District and then there was your store, lights out, and there was this dress, or one like it, I can't remember and I'm kicking myself for it, I am. My heart beat fast, my hands shook, and perhaps this is sad and telling of something not for this blog, but my heart and hands felt more for your storefront in that moment than they've ever felt for any man. Ew, that sounds like I'm one of those people who falls in love with the Eiffel Tower and tries to marry it, but I promise you it's different. Falling in love with people and falling in love with art are similar in that our bodies sometimes respond in the same way, but I have no plans to propose to this dress. I'd need it in my possession first, of course.
I hope you have found some relief, some rest and some peace. You will be missed.
XOXO
K.
beautifully stated K.
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