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flaunt the imperfection
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The Grand manner
(Filed: 23/03/2005)
How did a 'nerd' from Birmingham become the coolest stylist in British fashion? Emily Bearn meets Katie Grand
Katie Grand's 'capsule wardrobe', which consists of about a thousand skirts and jackets and a hundred or so pairs of shoes, is accommodated in her three-bedroom house in Kentish Town.
*
Grand in 2002: 'homespun'
Her surplus wardrobe, which contains every item of clothing she has bought since the age of 15, is housed down the road and fills a storage unit the size of a pantechnicon truck.
'Alaïa,' she explains, briskly taking me upstairs into the corner of a room the size of a squash court filled entirely with clothes rails. 'Then we go along, alphabetically, to Balenciaga… Chanel… loads of Comme des Garçons, Courrèges…' Grand sweeps down several metres of rail, rapidly plucking at T-shirts and jackets as though they were long-lost friends. ('Marc Jacobs! Lovely!… And you can never have enough vintage Jean Muir!') 'I've got so many clothes but I never get, you know, confused by them. I always decide exactly what I'm going to wear within seven minutes of waking up.'
It is perhaps in part thanks to such decisiveness that Grand, a 33-year-old freelance stylist from Birmingham, is reputed to have become one of the most influential figures in the fashion business - 'one of the most powerful stylists in the world', according to The Telegraph. 'What Katie does - and Katie says - is as influential as it gets,' according to the Evening Standard.
It certainly appeared so last August, when she casually told New York Magazine that 'There's something very interesting about working-class Britain in the early 1960s.'
The remark unleashed a maelstrom of newspaper headlines, announcing the imminent arrival of British 'granny chic'.
'It all started when an American journalist asked me what will be in next season,' she explains, talking in a vestigial Birmingham accent. 'I was obsessed with Coronation Street at the time so I just said, "Oh, it will all be about Coronation Street." I suppose I was being a bit precocious.'
For the less precocious reader, it might be helpful to explain why Miss Grand has become such a force to reckon with. The secret, as one fashion commentator puts it, seems simply to be 'an uncanny knack for getting in with all the right people'.
She was at Central St Martins College of Art and Design with Stella McCartney. She then became the lover of the photographer Rankin and, for seven years, worked with him as the fashion director of the magazine Dazed & Confused, which he founded.
'We were both forceful people, so there was sometimes a bit of a clash,' she explains, gently extricating a herbal teabag from her mug. 'We were incredibly young, so we wouldn't care if we were screaming at each other when there were visitors to the office. Things would get thrown around all the time.'
What sort of things? 'Computers. Filing cabinets. You know. It was all about screaming and swearing. That was just the time and the mood. I look back and I love how arrogant we all were.'
She now juggles a lucrative career as a freelance stylist - her recent clients include Miu Miu, Prada, Calvin Klein and, currently, Louis Vuitton's men's and womenswear - with editing Pop, a biannual fashion magazine, which, according to one insider, is 'so hip it makes Anna Wintour tremble'. (The latest issue appeared last month.)
The front of Pop's second issue was inspired by a New Order album cover
For the cover of her first issue, four years ago, she invited her friends Stella McCartney, Phoebe Philo, Luella Bartley and Liberty Ross to pose as pole dancers. Subsequent covers were to include a near-naked Madonna in bondage cords.
Given her unimpeachably fashionable reputation, Grand appears reassuringly homespun. When I first knocked on her door there was no reply, but a call to her assistant, Mandi, confirmed that she was minutes away: 'You'll see her approaching down the street soon,' I was briefed. 'She's got long hair… tallish… she looks stylish but not… well, you know, not…' Not very smart, certainly.
She has a gap-toothed smile and curly, hopelessly unruly hair, part of which is wrestled into an elastic band. Her slightly ramshackle appearance is accentuated by a nondescript T-shirt and a pair of baggy, elasticated black trousers: 'I've just been running,' she explains apologetically. 'But I am not a tracksuit-during-the-day kind of person. Never. Strictly never.'
Her house would certainly suggest that fashion is her main concern. She lives with her boyfriend, Steve Mackey, the bass-player in Pulp, but - beside Grand's wardrobe - neither of them appears to have amassed many possessions. The drawing-room is bare save for a couple of low-slung sofas and chairs, and the kitchen shelves are piled with fashion manuals rather than recipe books.
'Mewch was amazing to work with,' Grand remarks - referring, I assume, to Miuccia Prada, as she scours her vast, retro-style fridge in search of apple juice. 'She's just got this incredible dynamism. She's got a great knack of always being right. And Marc [Jacobs -- confusingly, this is an industry in which no one appears to have a surname] is amazing, too. He's just got this incredible feel for what people want to wear.'
The same might be said for Miss Grand: 'I think for this decade it's not about a total look,' she says. 'It might just be about a cashmere sweater. I think after the decadence and heaviness of winter, summer might be a little less embellished… fewer brooches… maybe a bit younger. The Margaret Thatcher look was definitely a big part of winter, but summer will be different. I've got a big, big thing for floral prints at the moment.'
And, a few seasons down the line, Grand's considerable clout might ensure - heaven forfend - that we all have a big, big thing about shoulder pads: 'In ten years' time there could be a 1980s revival,' she explains confidently. 'Even now, there's something about looking at an image of Paula Yates in an Antony Price dress that looks very right.'
Paula Yates hardly seems the most likely fashion icon for the next generation; but Katie Grand has spent a lot of time considering such things. The daughter of a cancer research scientist, she has, by her own definition, been 'obsessed' with fashion since the age of 12, when her father's girlfriend introduced her to the joys of Warehouse.
'I was really nerdy,' Grand says. 'And then kind of overnight I can remember clearly thinking, "I just want to be cool." There are photographs of me aged 12 wearing waist-high tight red jeans with a puffed-sleeve blue sweater and awful hair, and then aged 13 in an ankle-length black gathered skirt, white shirt tucked in, braces, a black tie, black lace tights, navy blue stilettos and a black beret with a veil. It all sort of came together quite quickly.'
At the venerable age of 33, does she ever sense that her interest in fashion might wane? 'No,' she replies, suddenly emphatic. 'Never. I'll still be just as into it when I'm 80.
'It's not something that just comes and goes. But I have a sense of humour about it… Or, at least, I like to think that I do.'
http://fashion.telegraph.co.uk/fashion/main.jhtml?xml=/fashion/2005/03/23/efgrand23.xml
(Filed: 23/03/2005)
How did a 'nerd' from Birmingham become the coolest stylist in British fashion? Emily Bearn meets Katie Grand
Katie Grand's 'capsule wardrobe', which consists of about a thousand skirts and jackets and a hundred or so pairs of shoes, is accommodated in her three-bedroom house in Kentish Town.
*
Grand in 2002: 'homespun'
Her surplus wardrobe, which contains every item of clothing she has bought since the age of 15, is housed down the road and fills a storage unit the size of a pantechnicon truck.
'Alaïa,' she explains, briskly taking me upstairs into the corner of a room the size of a squash court filled entirely with clothes rails. 'Then we go along, alphabetically, to Balenciaga… Chanel… loads of Comme des Garçons, Courrèges…' Grand sweeps down several metres of rail, rapidly plucking at T-shirts and jackets as though they were long-lost friends. ('Marc Jacobs! Lovely!… And you can never have enough vintage Jean Muir!') 'I've got so many clothes but I never get, you know, confused by them. I always decide exactly what I'm going to wear within seven minutes of waking up.'
It is perhaps in part thanks to such decisiveness that Grand, a 33-year-old freelance stylist from Birmingham, is reputed to have become one of the most influential figures in the fashion business - 'one of the most powerful stylists in the world', according to The Telegraph. 'What Katie does - and Katie says - is as influential as it gets,' according to the Evening Standard.
It certainly appeared so last August, when she casually told New York Magazine that 'There's something very interesting about working-class Britain in the early 1960s.'
The remark unleashed a maelstrom of newspaper headlines, announcing the imminent arrival of British 'granny chic'.
'It all started when an American journalist asked me what will be in next season,' she explains, talking in a vestigial Birmingham accent. 'I was obsessed with Coronation Street at the time so I just said, "Oh, it will all be about Coronation Street." I suppose I was being a bit precocious.'
For the less precocious reader, it might be helpful to explain why Miss Grand has become such a force to reckon with. The secret, as one fashion commentator puts it, seems simply to be 'an uncanny knack for getting in with all the right people'.
She was at Central St Martins College of Art and Design with Stella McCartney. She then became the lover of the photographer Rankin and, for seven years, worked with him as the fashion director of the magazine Dazed & Confused, which he founded.
'We were both forceful people, so there was sometimes a bit of a clash,' she explains, gently extricating a herbal teabag from her mug. 'We were incredibly young, so we wouldn't care if we were screaming at each other when there were visitors to the office. Things would get thrown around all the time.'
What sort of things? 'Computers. Filing cabinets. You know. It was all about screaming and swearing. That was just the time and the mood. I look back and I love how arrogant we all were.'
She now juggles a lucrative career as a freelance stylist - her recent clients include Miu Miu, Prada, Calvin Klein and, currently, Louis Vuitton's men's and womenswear - with editing Pop, a biannual fashion magazine, which, according to one insider, is 'so hip it makes Anna Wintour tremble'. (The latest issue appeared last month.)
The front of Pop's second issue was inspired by a New Order album cover
For the cover of her first issue, four years ago, she invited her friends Stella McCartney, Phoebe Philo, Luella Bartley and Liberty Ross to pose as pole dancers. Subsequent covers were to include a near-naked Madonna in bondage cords.
Given her unimpeachably fashionable reputation, Grand appears reassuringly homespun. When I first knocked on her door there was no reply, but a call to her assistant, Mandi, confirmed that she was minutes away: 'You'll see her approaching down the street soon,' I was briefed. 'She's got long hair… tallish… she looks stylish but not… well, you know, not…' Not very smart, certainly.
She has a gap-toothed smile and curly, hopelessly unruly hair, part of which is wrestled into an elastic band. Her slightly ramshackle appearance is accentuated by a nondescript T-shirt and a pair of baggy, elasticated black trousers: 'I've just been running,' she explains apologetically. 'But I am not a tracksuit-during-the-day kind of person. Never. Strictly never.'
Her house would certainly suggest that fashion is her main concern. She lives with her boyfriend, Steve Mackey, the bass-player in Pulp, but - beside Grand's wardrobe - neither of them appears to have amassed many possessions. The drawing-room is bare save for a couple of low-slung sofas and chairs, and the kitchen shelves are piled with fashion manuals rather than recipe books.
'Mewch was amazing to work with,' Grand remarks - referring, I assume, to Miuccia Prada, as she scours her vast, retro-style fridge in search of apple juice. 'She's just got this incredible dynamism. She's got a great knack of always being right. And Marc [Jacobs -- confusingly, this is an industry in which no one appears to have a surname] is amazing, too. He's just got this incredible feel for what people want to wear.'
The same might be said for Miss Grand: 'I think for this decade it's not about a total look,' she says. 'It might just be about a cashmere sweater. I think after the decadence and heaviness of winter, summer might be a little less embellished… fewer brooches… maybe a bit younger. The Margaret Thatcher look was definitely a big part of winter, but summer will be different. I've got a big, big thing for floral prints at the moment.'
And, a few seasons down the line, Grand's considerable clout might ensure - heaven forfend - that we all have a big, big thing about shoulder pads: 'In ten years' time there could be a 1980s revival,' she explains confidently. 'Even now, there's something about looking at an image of Paula Yates in an Antony Price dress that looks very right.'
Paula Yates hardly seems the most likely fashion icon for the next generation; but Katie Grand has spent a lot of time considering such things. The daughter of a cancer research scientist, she has, by her own definition, been 'obsessed' with fashion since the age of 12, when her father's girlfriend introduced her to the joys of Warehouse.
'I was really nerdy,' Grand says. 'And then kind of overnight I can remember clearly thinking, "I just want to be cool." There are photographs of me aged 12 wearing waist-high tight red jeans with a puffed-sleeve blue sweater and awful hair, and then aged 13 in an ankle-length black gathered skirt, white shirt tucked in, braces, a black tie, black lace tights, navy blue stilettos and a black beret with a veil. It all sort of came together quite quickly.'
At the venerable age of 33, does she ever sense that her interest in fashion might wane? 'No,' she replies, suddenly emphatic. 'Never. I'll still be just as into it when I'm 80.
'It's not something that just comes and goes. But I have a sense of humour about it… Or, at least, I like to think that I do.'
http://fashion.telegraph.co.uk/fashion/main.jhtml?xml=/fashion/2005/03/23/efgrand23.xml