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The Sad Hatter

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My style icon is anyone who makes a bloody effort,” Blow liked to say, so all the people who turned up to her Gloucestershire funeral followed her counsel: “I looked around,” says Plum Sykes, “and everyone looked like Issie.” There was lipstick, there was cleavage, and there were endless high heels aerating the damp grass. Treacy made 50 black hats, and Rupert Everett delivered the eulogy: “Have you gotten what you wanted, Issie?” he said. “Life was a relationship that you rejected.”

There’s another, more public memorial scheduled for September, when the multitudes of fashion nuts who admired Blow from afar will have a chance to pay tribute. Until then, Detmar and Treacy will continue working on a museum exhibition of Issie’s hats; they’re just back from installing it at the Hermitage, which they know Issie would have loved.

Treacy keeps calling his friend’s voice mail for a quick hit of her voice. Others cope differently: “McQueen said he’s been to a medium,” Detmar says. “He tells me that Issie’s okay, she’s with her grandmother, who was this fantastic cannibal, you know, so that’s nice.

“We’re doing a tombstone in Gloucestershire,” he adds. “I’m going to make it very Islamic, with Arabic and pomegranates. And maybe some hats.”


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