Tuesday, January 21, 2020

Kim Jones Pays Tribute To Judy Blame, The “Unsung Hero Of British Fashion”

Since the start of his uprising in menswear, Kim Jones has paid open homage to the influence of his elder statesman in London counterculture. Today’s Dior AW20 menswear show – a pertinent tribute to the stylist, jeweller, art director and visual iconoclast, Judy Blame – was preceded by a deft twist on the Dior logo, with a safety pin added to the ‘O’ of the house insignia. In an accompanying video, Jones referred to Blame as the "unsung hero" of British fashion. The recognition of the Dior show will surely upend a further layer of Blame’s peerlessly cult status.

Rewind to the evening of 11 March, 2019, when London’s fashion demi-monde descended on Union Chapel, Islington to celebrate Blame’s life. The evening crystalised into a perfect kiss goodnight to a momentous talent. Judy Blame’s honorary eulogy was discreetly funded by Jones, reflecting the inspiration, mentorship and loyal friendship that they both shared.

In fact, Jones and Blame's shared interest was vast, extending beyond clothing and accessories into nightlife, art and the environment. The central tenet of Jones’s work – that there exists no distinction between the street and runway in fashion, only a shared, cross-class division based on taste – is divined straight from Blame’s unwritten fashion creed. Blame’s playbook always prized meaning above money. His work was tirelessly driven by ideas. He wove AIDS and ecology seamlessly into editorial during the incendiary work he styled for titles such as The Face and i-D in the 1980s. The Dior AW20 collection will form part of an ongoing latticework of projects – including a forthcoming book – to help protect and prioritise the legacy of the house of Judy Blame.

Blame died on Monday 19 February, 2018, aged 58. Although his passing felt premature, he managed to cram an awful lot of living into those years. He was born Chris Barnes in Surrey and soon moved to an ex-pat community in Madrid, when his father’s work positioned the family in Spain. His artful instinct was ignited while truanting from school and spending endless hours lost in the Museo Nacional del Prado, instructing himself on the rudiments of taste, which developed young and certain.

He arrived back in Britain as a 16-year-old during Punk’s annus mirabilis; a time which he held close throughout his life. In the last Stoke Newington flat Blame lived in – for which he paid three years’ rent in advance, thanks to a previous Kim Jones collaboration (then at Louis Vuitton) – an original poster from a frenetic The Pop Group gig was given pride of place above the living room fire. It bore the legend: “We are all prostitutes.”


Relocating to London as a teenager, taking a job in the cloakroom at the blossoming Charing Cross gay club, Heaven, Chris Barnes was renamed Judy – in honour of Garland – by the glam-rock couturier Antony Price; and Blame, for giving back whichever coat best suited the patron, not necessarily the one they came in with. Blame’s creative hand was already hard at work, too – making his editorial debut in Tatler at the age of just 21, as a young jeweller and designer to watch.

Blame played as hard as he worked. He built a network through pivotal 1980s nightclubs, which bounced to the reverberating fashion beats of New Romanticism, before shifting to the line-in-the-sand moment of Buffalo, rounding off the decade with the utopian mania of Acid House. He absorbed it all, fashioning imagery that reflected the exact mood with a lightness of touch and necessity of purpose, every bit as vigorous and invested as the art he’d absorbed at the Prado.As a stylist, Blame’s CV is littered with iconic moments.

He chose the gold lamé suit Martin Fry wore in ABC’s The Look Of Love video, reshaping the Sheffield romantics as a Soul Train review band. Fry repaid the compliment three years later by dedicating an ABC B-side Judy’s Jewels to him. Blame introduced Björk to Martin Margiela, Juergen Teller and his favourite make-up artist, Topolino. Together, they fashioned the cover for her iconic first solo record, Debut. Blame lent Kylie Minogue a countercultural edge, as she moved subtly away from Pete Waterman’s PWL Hit Factory; and he reimagined Boy George for his Pearly Queen years. As an art director for Massive Attack he took no credit. He’s rumoured to have spent the entire budget for Duran Duran’s Wild Boys video, for whom he was styling the extras, on street amphetamines.

It was with his great muse, Neneh Cherry, that Blame became heroic. Cherry was less a client, more a long-lost sister figure for Blame. They took the entire Buffalo subculture and sold it to the world via MTV on the back of Cherry’s 1989 hit Buffalo Stance. His effortless subversion of sportswear, knock-off jewellery, hand-crafted pieces and the raw sexuality of the designs of his forever favourite Azzedine Alaïa have become a cornerstone of womenswear that endures today.

Editorial god, styling guru, pop savant, craftsman, gossip and original punk rocker, Blame was as loved in life as he was in fashion. Tears were shed and laughter prevailed at the Union Chapel event; and there was one shared memory on which everyone agreed. That truly, he was one of the giants of fashion history as it raced into the 21st century. At Dior today, Kim Jones has ensured a new testament for Judy Blame’s litany begins.

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