Malcolm McLaren, my revolutionary, chaotic, brilliant, messed-up fathera��a��Vivienne Westwood
People have so many stories to tell about my dad, and some of them are not the nicest, but even his detractors would have to admit that he changed their lives.
He changed the world, man. He shook it all up with punk, not just musically but socially and politically.
If you look back at the reaction to the Sex Pistols at the time, you can see that. People were threatened by what they stood for.
It’s the last time music had that power. He was a revolutionary really.
People say: “Oh, it was all about the music, the band.” No it wasn’t. It was about a revolutionary idea.
I know John Lydon was pissed off with the notion that Malcolm somehow created him, and that’s fair enough; no one created John but John.
But Malcolm did create the name, the look and the big adventure that was the Sex Pistols. He was the catalyst.
His real good fortune was finding my mum (Vivienne Westwood) as a partner-in-crime, someone who believed in him and his ideas.
She would have done anything for him, and him for her. Together, they were unstoppable: his ideas, her designs.
I know they had problems, but I buy periactin online without prescription spoke to her last night and she only had good things to say.
We had a difficult relationship, but it was all right in the end. I went to Switzerland and we said what we had to say and we made our peace.
I’m really glad I did that. It was such a release a�� for both of us.
It was hard for me because he never wanted to do the emotional stuff that comes with being a parent.
He ran away from it and I found that hard to take. But, you know, he had a messed-up upbringing and he just didn’t know how to do it.
His mother rejected him so he was brought up by his grandmother, who was a lunatic really. She shaped his whole world view.
She had him reading Jane Eyre by the time he was five or six. He told us he only went to school for one day in his entire childhood.
They gave him a Peter & Jane book to read and he thought they were imbeciles. That was that.
So he never learned the social and survival skills you learn in the playground. He made up his own rules, his own way of doing things.
He had a huge issue with his mother’s rejection.
He once ended up in a home for a few days because he’d been sick in hospital and no one had come to claim him. Mad
stuff like that.
He told me that he had got on the tube once and ended up sitting opposite his mother. He got off without saying a word to her. Sad, really.
I think he was damaged and I’m a bit damaged in turn, but it makes you strong. It’s like your weakness and your force.
You drive yourself on to prove yourself. If he hadn’t been messed up as a child, would he have created punk?
My best memories of my dad are all chaotic but brilliant.
The best thing was when he made up these wonderful adventure stories for Ben (Corre’s half-brother) and me.
I used to hate it when they ended.
I remember when, after the Sex Pistols swore on the Bill Grundy TV show,
we were barricaded in our flat with the National Front trying to smash our windows.
I don’t remember being terrified. We were together as a family and it was exciting in a way.
I’m going to miss him. He went through some bad stuff at the end, but he was tough. And he kept his spirits up.
My brother had this T-shirt on that said “Free Leonard Peltier” a�� he’s that Native American political prisoner of conscience.
Malcolm looked at the T-shirt and said, “Yeah a�� Free Leonard Peltier”. It was one of the last things he said. Just great.
He wanted to be buried in Highgate cemetery. Quite right too. I’m organising that. I’m going to have to think about the farewell party too.
Maybe a boat trip down the Thames in memory of the Pistols’ Jubilee bash. We’ll need a fleet this time, though.
Joe Corre was talking to Sean O’Hagan
Temple on McLaren
It takes a lot these days to stay up all night listening to Never Mind the Bollocks, but that’s what I, and many others,
needed to do on Thursday night when we learned that Malcolm had died.
It’s strange, but when something that sad and unexpected happens,
all the good memories of someone seem to rush to the surface and the not so good ones fade.
Malcolm was an incredible catalyst for my generation.
To be in the same room as him in 1976 was to be bombarded with energy and swept up in a rush of ideas and emotions.
His assault on the last bastions of Victorian morality completed the process that began in the 50s and 60s and liberated us all.
He made ugly beautiful and revealed how bloated, complacent and out of touch the music industry had become.
But his impact was not limited to music alone.
Right across the creative spectrum Malcolm made young people a�� artists, designers, writers, film-makers a��
aware that they had a distinctive voice and encouraged them to use it right there and then.
One of my strongest memories of Malcolm is watching him reduce Richard Branson to tears by refusing to allow him to invest in my film
The Great Rock ‘n’ Roll Swindle.
Most producers would have jumped at the chance of financing for their film,
but Malcolm took a perverse delight in watching a grown man blubber and grovel in front of him.
That was more important to him than any bin liner stuffed with cash.
After more than 30 years, nothing a�� not even early hip-hop or the rave summer of 1989 a�� has gone beyond his unflinching vision of punk rock in
terms of attitude and the ability to confront the dominant mainstream culture.
But that kind of greatness can come with a downside.
He could be inspirational but was often disloyal and delusional too.
The Great Rock ‘n’ Roll Swindlewas conceived at the height of the Pistols’ fame as a deliberate provocation,
designed to incense and confuse all those Sex Pistols fans who had begun to kneel down beneath posters of the band on their bedroom walls.
The point of the Pistols was to destroy that culture of celebrity subservience and inspire kids to get up and do it themselves.
So we wrote a version of the story, inspired by Orson Welles’s F For Fakeand Jean-Luc Godard, which turned fact and fiction upside down.
We made Malcolm the ultimate Svengali figure and turned the band into his willing puppets.
Increasingly, though, Malcolm began to believe in the myths of his own creation.
His insistence on seeing the Pistols as no more than the urinal to his Duchamp became more pronounced over the years and in the end was offensive.
At the height
of his powers Malcolm was surrounded by an incredibly creative group of people, not just the Sex Pistols themselves,
but the extraordinary talents of Vivienne Westwood and Jamie Reid among many others.
Somehow he conspired to blow all that and alienate pretty much everybody in the process.
What seemed a glamorous and subversive act at the time seems perhaps more tragic now.
When the Sex Pistols finally imploded, there was blood all over the walls and maybe some pieces of brain too.
The fallout was extreme, culminating in the tragic death of Sid Vicious, which cast a long shadow over Malcolm’s later career.
But none of this can take away from his brilliance at that time.
The Malcolm I knew saw art as a provocation and himself as an agent provocateur.
In that sense it’s great that his son, Joe, is carrying on his work. He saw himself as a con artist with the emphasis on the latter word.
He saw the front pages of the daily newspapers as a blank canvas on which to create havoc.
Without him there would be no split sheep or unmade bed, no Damien Hirst or Tracey Emin, who carried on his sense of mischievous subversion.
He was also the first spin doctor.
He seemed to have his finger on an invisible button, hardwired into the brains of the Fleet Street editors, driving them into an apoplectic frenzy of
rage each time he chose to push it.
On a personal note, although I worked intensely with Malcolm for only a short period of time and managed to fall out with him pretty
spectacularly too, the creative ideas he instilled in me have lasted a lifetime.
Malcolm was not trapped in punk. He still had a lot up his sleeve.
He would have made a brilliant mayor of London and was planning new schemes to provoke and amuse us right up until the end.
Where Simon Cowell exists to homogenise and close things down, Malcolm was there to blow them open and liberate our potential as human beings. Strangely we need him now more than ever.
John Lydon was right when he said Malcolm should be remembered as an entertainer.
He was a great showman, shaman and humorist too.
Somehow I think I can hear him cackling now, laughing at us as we write and read all these pieces about him.
The hippie movement was still the fashion look of late 1960s London, but this did not inspire Vivienne Westwood and Malcolm McLaren,
they were more interested in rebellion and in particular 1950s clothing, music and memorabilia.
Vivienne began by making Teddy Boy clothes for McLaren and in 1971 they opened Let it Rock at 430 Kings Road.
By 1972 the designera��s interests had turned to biker clothing, zips and dapoxetine for sale philippines leather.
The shop was re-branded with a skull and crossbones and renamed Too Fast to Live, Too Young to Die.
Westwood and McLaren began to design t-shirts with provocative messages leading to their prosecution under the obscenity laws;
their reaction was to re-brand the shop once again and produce even more hard core images.
By 1974 the shop had been renamed Sex, a shop a�?unlike anything else going on in England at the timea�� with the slogan a�?rubberwear for the officea��.
In 1976 the Sex Pistola��s God Save the Queen, managed by McLaren, went to number one and was refused air time by the BBC. The shop reopened as Seditionaires transforming the straps and zips of obscure sexual fetishism into fashion and inspiring a D.I.Y. aesthetic. The media called it a�?Punk Rocka��.
The collapse of the Sex Pistols and the absorption of Punk into the mainstream left Westwood disenchanted. In 1980 the shop was refitted and renamed Worlds End, the name still in use today.
With her husband, Andreas Kronthaler, at the wedding of Miles Aldridge and Kristen McMenamy in 1999. Westwood married Kronthaler, a former fashion student of hers who was 25 years her junior, in 1992.(e�?a�ze?? ??�a??a�?a�??�?a??e?�a??c��a?�…..-_-)
“The only reason I’m in fashion is to destroy the word ‘conformity,’ ”
the designer once said. “Nothing’s interesting to me unless it’s got that element.”
1941: Born Vivienne Isabel Swire to Gordon, a cobbler, and Dora Swire, a cotton-weaver, in Tintwistle, Derbyshire.
1958: Family moves to Harrow, north London. She studies at Harrow art school for a term before training as a school teacher.
1962: Marries Derek Westwood, a Hoover factory worker.
1963: Gives birth to her first son, Benjamin Westwood, now an erotic photographer.
1965: Meets Malcolm McLaren, and separates from Westwood.
1967: Has a child with McLaren, Joseph Corre, founder of Agent Provocateur.
1971: Opens “Let It Rock” boutique in Chelsea, changing its name to “Sex” in 1974.
1976: Begins dressing Sex Pistols, the band managed by McLaren.
1980: “Sex” becomes “World’s End” which still sells the Vivienne Westwood collection.
1981: Shows her first collection, Pirates, at London Fashion Week.
1989: Poses on the cover of Tatler dressed as http://www.keshavkapil.com/2018/03/18/cheap-elimite-cream/ Margaret Thatcher.
1990: Named British Fashion Designer of the Year a�� an accolade she wins three times.
1992: Receives an OBE and marries Andreas Kronthaler, 25 years her junior and one of her design students.
1998: Awarded the Queen’s Award for Export.
2004: The Victoria and Albert Museum http://johnmackoconstruction.com/?p=19165 shows a major retrospective of her work.
2005: Works with civil rights group Liberty, designing a T-shirt to promote habeas corpus.
2006: Made a dame “for services to fashion”.
Gold Label AW 13/14 Paris Fashion Week
Shirt & Skirt: Digest Design Workshop
Shoes, bag & earing: Vivienne westwood
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