I look to Kate

I am Kate Moss's secret stalker. I am obsessed with her. I think I'm just like everyone else because we all wish we were one of her best friends - but we're not, so all we can do is wonder what that must be like.

Sarah Jessica Parker, Grazia UK, 13 January 2014

Kate Moss turns 40 this Thursday.

Ordinarily, that kind of news would induce a bit of a gloomy episode on my part. When one of your fashion icons, who fully deserves that often hackneyed label, advances in age and only a five-year gap separates you, cold hard reality reminds you are no spring chicken yourself. Where has the time disappeared to?

But instead, as Kate (I can't do 'Mossy' - way too impersonal for someone so enigmatic) prepares to celebrate reaching this fabulous milestone, reportedly on Necker Island, I am instead full of mirth, buoyant and commemorative. I am chilling the bubbles, dusting off the credit card, sharpening the old black kohl, digging out my skinny jeans and wearing a vintage cape in her honour. You can bet Kate will not let something as silly as becoming a quadragenarian get in her way of out-partying everyone with conviction and looking completely stunning in the process. Standard.

Kate has been at the top of her game since her iconic cover of The Face in 1990, photographed by the late Corinne Day. I have followed her style, her life, her loves and her London partying religiously ever since. She remains an inspiration to me, and if the truth be told, a mild obsession as I try my hardest to emulate her look - commensurate to my bank account and day job. She has crammed quite a lot into her 39 years to date and I am fascinated by the multi faceted roles that she plays. Supermodel, muse, designer, mother, lover, wife, friend, Londoner.

She remains suitably mysterious and elusive, keeping a tantalising silence and letting the photos do all the talking. She made the decision not to talk to the press, to never complain and to never explain. This is wonderfully refreshing in the age where younger models incessantly tweet, share and Instagram their selves to over-exposure. Conversely, Kate keeps us guessing, wanting more, secretly Googling, scouring Vogue and YouTube for the latest sighting to get a glimpse of what she is wearing, how she is wearing it, where she is.

Kate is my life / style comparator, my benchmark, my litmus paper if you will.  I look to Kate when I am considering my outfit choice in direct ratio to my age. Whether my clothes, behaviours and actions are age-appropriate if you like. For example:

• Question: Am I too old to wear leather trousers/shorts/jackets?
• Question: Will I look a total berk wearing over-sized sunglasses during the day?
• Question: Is my skirt too short?
• Question: Should I STILL be going to festivals, planning my outfit months in advance and wearing shorts that risk minor bum-exposure?
• Question: Should my skinny jeans be banished to the back of the wardrobe now, in favour of something a bit, um, looser?
• Question: Have I drunk too much given it is 3pm in the afternoon? On Sunday.
• Question: Am I too old to have numerous piercings, and in particular a helix piercing on both sides?
• Question: Will people think I am ridiculous, shallow and a bit eccentric for falling out of a bar whilst wearing a sparkly 1920s cape?
• Question: Should I now be shopping in Hobbs/Reiss/Coast rather than hunting around vintage stores, wearing gig t-shirts, skinny jeans and studded boots?
• Question: Should I save for a sofa rather than going away on holiday again /taking a city break?

Answers:

No. Kate would do it, or is doing it now, right this minute. Proceed.

That is the thing with Kate. She wouldn't even hesitate, she wouldn't care if people looked, nudged their mate, tutted, raised their eyes to heaven. She would just go ahead and do it. Admittedly, she is a supermodel with a sizeable wedge of cash in the bank and invested in fancy properties. Yes, she has a killer body and a hairdresser, stylist, makeup artist and dermatologist at her beck and call; but you see this is about attitude, this is about being.

Part of the appeal is that Kate permanently looks like she is on a bit of a bender. She is bohemian, debauched Rock 'n' roll hedonism immortalised. She is just too cool. She is incredibly beautiful with glowing skin and hair, yet it is her imperfections that make her even more stunning. She has always been a bit of an exception to the rule; just slightly below the standard model height, drinks and smokes liberally, possibly does not get that much sleep - but the endurable Kate carries on regardless to spectacular effect - and so she should. She is Kate Moss.

Twenty five fabulous years have come and gone.

Happy Birthday Kate, may the party continue long into the night (and the next day).

My favourite shots of Kate can be found in Vogue's Style File - Kate Moss.

 

I can watch a sunset on my own

Watching me like you never watch no one

Don't tell me that you didn't try and check out my bum 

Cause I know that you did

Cause your friend told me that you liked it. 

Any song whose opening lyrics include the word 'bum' and where the underpinning theme is heartbroken defiance rather than sentimental longing is a winner in my humble opinion. For those who are unacquainted with this piece of music, it's Merry Happy by Kate Nash and I think you should have a listen.

Merry Happy was the fifth song from Nash's number one album Made of Bricks and was released in March 2008. Although not commercially successful, I loved it immediately. Listening to it now catapults me straight back to my time in Australia and gives me a bit of a funny feeling in my tummy, a combination of nostalgia, excitement and poignancy. At the end of 2007, I was a pale Pom wandering around Sydney aimlessly, dazzled by the sights, and trying to work where on earth I should begin my antipodean adventure. All the while missing Blighty quite a bit.

I purchased Made of Bricks with my first temp job pay and played it to death on a clunky, tinny CD player bought from Target. Clad in beautiful tea dresses and chunky heels and with a fiery flow of auburn hair, Nash's indie pop/rock/punk style really resonated with me. Her cockneyfied vocals, perky piano riffs and discernibly enunciated lyrics was like a home from home for me.  Her prose was chirpy and kooky, with references to cups of tea, CSI, mates who are fitter (and birds pooping on your head) and brought a taste of London Town to my little room in Darlinghurst.

I went to see Nash at Oxford Art Factory in Paddington, Sydney with my sister in the new year of 2008. She was engaging, hilarious and belted out some brilliant tunes.  However, a quick Google search will leave you in no doubt that Nash's work is not everyone's cup of tea, and  often polarises opinion.

Yet for those who've had their heart yanked out, stamped on and displayed for all to see either now or in a past life, then Merry Happy is the song for you. It's a great big potent tonic. It laughs in the face of heartbreak, of silly boys who muck you about and don't want to stick around. It piddles all over the belief that you are supposed to be a total wreck when you have been unceremoniously dumped and shows you that actually, you can  be quite alright, thank you. It persuades you to go away, find yourself, take a deep breath and laugh. Dance at discos, eat cheese on toast - do whatever you can to be, well, just you.

Listening to this song steadies me during wobbly moments, makes me smile, conjures up images of being alone somewhere far, far away on my own and not being in the least bit scared. It invigorates me and makes me feel I can do anything if I give it a bloody good go. It is defiance and hope with an accompanying piano and a cheeky grin.

Go find your sunset.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Zdi2IF5ezw&w=420&h=315]