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I never imagined that I could cry to the point of watching this documentary. The perception of McQueen was previously limited to being shocked by the beauty when visiting the V&A museum and that this is a brand that male gods like very much.
It's always fascinating to know the story of a genius, through his own hand-held tape recorder footage, his friends and family, his show, albeit not so complete, to get a glimpse. He is very special, comes from an ordinary family, started as a tailor, has a crazy love for clothes, knocked on the door of fashion with his bare hands, lived on the welfare money but made an impressive fashion collection. He's totally thrown himself into it and totally lost himself (and of course in the sudden fame and fortune).
At the same time, he was so approachable, probably the fattest and most unfashionable designer ever, who came out in a programmer-like plaid shirt and beach shorts to thank him and dine with the tailor in Givenchy's basement restaurant. His inspiration comes from the most ordinary and primitive things, tire marks, feathers, fish scales, but he creates the most extraordinary ideas (the robot rocker inkjet is too shocking on the model's skirt, and the Atlan who loves Plato too much Tees this series too).
There are too many contradictions in him, too sharp, too involved and too lost. He eventually committed suicide the day before his beloved mother's funeral. He knew he would never feel love and joy again, never find himself. Maybe this ordinary world is not for him. Before his death, he established a scholarship to help designers like him from ordinary families complete their studies.
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