By  on March 2, 2011

The fashion world is in shock over the news of John Galliano, his dismissal from Dior and the inexplicable behavior that prompted it. The sadness equals the shock. With everyone together for collections in a twist of timing, there’s the aura of a wake after a sudden death. May this not offend those who love Alexander McQueen, but I feel not unlike I did last year when I learned the news of Lee’s death: One of our rare geniuses, a man of unique and irreplaceable talent, has destroyed his career. Coming on the front-end of the New York shows, McQueen’s death cast a dark shadow over the entire season; Galliano’s career crash casts a pall over Paris.


I don’t know Galliano well, certainly not well enough to speak with conviction about his innermost thoughts and emotions. I have witnessed much of his career, not from the London days but from that intimate, glorious show at São Schlumberger’s hotel particulier in 1994. It seems a lifetime ago, and in fashion terms, it was.

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