from the article, continued:
Something changes shortly after this – as if she has let some sort of feeling through her defences – and McCartney starts talking about her mother, who died in 1998.
'She would have loved some of the things I've done recently,' she tells me. 'She would have loved all my veggie shoes and she would have dug the Adidas thing. She'd have loved the perfume. It's a bummer. At the weekend I really wanted to call her, talk crap down the phone. I didn't have anything to say, just sort of babble. She was the classiest woman I know. And class? You can't buy class, you know?
'She wasn't like Jackie O – you don't think of her like that – but just the way she handled herself and the decisions she made and the way she interacted with people was so fluid and natural and classy. It wasn't about her. It was about everyone else.'
I tell her that a journalist I know once almost fainted when he went to interview her father and that her mother had been sweet to him. She smiles.
'I would expect nothing less from my mother. People always have stories like that. "I met your parents once; your dad was in a bad mood and your mum came in and said, 'Do you want a cup of tea?'" It's really reaffirming to hear that.'
It seems to be all right now to talk about her family, to touch on her daily life. She spends the week in London, and the weekend in Worcestershire where she's having a garden made. ('Not cheap are they, gardens? Bloody hell. But part of the beauty of it is watching it grow. It's going to sound really naff on paper, that.')
At the moment she is 'being, like, this perfect role-model pregnant woman. I don't go out. I'm not drinking.'
She walks or cycles with her dog, a border collie called Red, in Hyde Park. She usually rides her horse Flo Jo as much as she can, but she's promised her husband – 'a good egg' – that she won't for the moment.
'My mum rode every single day, all of her life, but we're not as free as they were then. She was being a bit of a hippy living in Scotland when she had me. And if anything happened, I'd feel terrible. I'm not only responsible for myself and the baby. I've got Alasdhair to think about. I'll be back on my horse the moment I've squeezed it out. Can't wait.'
She met Willis at a meeting – his company was pitching for (and won) the contract to design her logo. (He wears amber – 'very masculine and sexy' – which, along with her mother's love of roses, was one of the inspirations for her perfume.) She's got some 'really amazing friends', but none from school – 'my school thing was wrapped around that learning experience of being a kid of someone. I was very wary and protective, jumpy, not very settled about it' – or from St Martins (where Kate Moss and Naomi Campbell modelled at her degree show).
'No. It was all fashiony. Everyone loved fashion and it was a bit, like, eugh.'
People like to say relations are strained between her and Phoebe Philo, whom she met at St Martins (and who has just had a baby). It would be a good opportunity to put the record straight, to congratulate Philo on being Designer of the Year perhaps, but she doesn't.
She's close to her siblings, she says – her half-sister, Heather, her older sister, Mary, and younger brother, James. And, though 'I would not be so immodest as to say I'm the best auntie in the world', she is 'madly in love' with Mary's two children. She doesn't mention Paul's daughter from his second marriage to the model Heather Mills. Neither her half-sister Heather nor her brother James has children, so Mary's, she says, 'are the only kids so far'.
At the end of the interview she looks tired. It's late Friday afternoon, but she has more meetings before she can go home. That morning she was at a costume-hire place doing research for her next collection ('Autumn/winter 2005,' says Stéphane). Her sales are reportedly up 65 per cent, her last collection had good reviews, and Robert Polet, the new chief executive of the Gucci group,
has given her and the group's other eponymous label, Alexander McQueen, until 2007 to break even.
'I'm working at so many different million things at the same time,' she says. 'It's hard…'
As we stand up she wriggles her shoulders to stretch out her back. When she looks at her feet again, your heart goes out. The famous daughter, the fashion designer, the ordinary woman who makes mistakes.
'The cowboy boots I should have worn,' she says, 'are the ones from the last winter show – like, fake leather with canvas in the middle? And then it wouldn't have come up.'