I did you another picture, and that is what this post was going to be all about. Here it is:-
Every year, since we first came to visit in 2005 come Spring-time, there's a new brood of swans at the Causeway twixt Freshwater and Yarmouth.
I always marvel at the little new family- the proud graceful Mother and Father, and the fluffy dark bundles of babyness- that look like they've slept upside down under water, and then rough dried in a tumble drier.
They are anomalies these little Cygnets. All brand-new and fluffy and rough around the edges, the last thing you'd think is that they would glide effortlessly and gracefully like their parents. I'd expect a bit of wobbly 'trying', like learning to walk, maybe veering off hither and thither, plumage all a go-go, only to be brought back by graceful mama. But no, it seems they are born to glide majestically behind their parents.
As the season's progress we see their development into gleaming white grown-ups. In your picture Em, they are teenagers really. Almost ready to flee the nest, but still under mummy's wing.
It never fails to amaze me Emily, how nature replicates this scene with different generations, year after year. It is both comforting and delightful.
I read 'The Ugly Duckling' when I was little. I read it to Daddy, and Uncle Ed, and Joe too. We shall read it together next time you are here. When I was small, there was an actor called Danny Kaye, who made a record ( a big black disc thing with a hole in the middle and grooves that played sound when it was put onto a turn-table with a special needle to sew the sound together.) This record had 'The Ugly Duckling' on it, and I remember my favourite bit when the 'duckling' realises he's not in fact from the same pack.
"Me a Swan? Oh, go on!" I used to say this over and over, and drive my parents potty with it.
The record continued, with another Hans Christian Anderson tale- 'The Emporer's New Clothes,'
a story that fascinated me- and horrified my sensibilities at the same time. How embarrassing', to suddenly be seen in your undies. Oh my days, the shame!
I was reminded of the story as a grown-up in 1984, when I began working for John Galliano on his first ever fashion show out of college. As a young model of 23- I suddenly felt I had become ancient, and that the little crows feet appearing at the corner of my eyes, were veritable tram-lines and that I was coming to the end of my modelling shelf-life. I thought it time to look for a 'proper' job, so when Mr Galliano asked me if I'd knit 12 designs for a show- I thought I'd give it a go.
I had no idea of what was to come.
As soon as the music began and the lights came up- the theatre in front of me excited and amazed me.
'The Ludic Game' became fashion history. No-one had ever seen the like. The genius (I don't use the word lightly) of John's skill in design, pattern-cutting and his magician's air of theatricality in the show, transported our work into a lyrical, but crazy at the same time- other world.
I felt overwhelmed and ignited. I can't explain it exactly Emily, but I knew it was important.
And it was- an hour and a half later- John and I were rushed over to the selling tent- dressed in two outfits we'd grabbed off some poor models.
As we arrived, the flashbulbs went off. Two knackered workers (John looking cool- me looking like I was in fancy dress.) The stand was mobbed. There were no clothes- just line-drawings. The clothes were still on the models at the show.
Yet still, the buyers ordered- vast quantities of the clothes that weren't there.
I felt like the Emperor, without the clothes, but without the shame.
I shall end with a curious tale about a hat.
I may have mentioned in passing Emily, that we are moving next week. I've also just signed a lease on a new shop. In the incessant editing that has taken up much of the last six weeks, I've been selling lots of my old clothes at Twice as Nice in Newport. Old Weardowney, Establishment, Galliano- you name it- I'm editing it.
Goodness knows why though Emily, when I spied a hat that I'd designed in 2005, and had been mass-marketed by some chain or other- I decided to part with some of my winnings and buy it.
I plonked it on my head, and that evening went with Grumpa for our friday constitutional. Two hours at the Red Lion, dining Al-fresco whilst the weather still affords.
Happy in my hat- but Grumpa none the wiser, as said hat, just looked like one I've had kicking around for ever. Out from the pub, appears a dimply smiley, cheeky blonde girl dressed in jeans, converses and a t-shirt.
"Oooh, I love your hat. Where did you get it?" I started to explain with a slightly confused Grumpa, who probably thought I was making it up- as to his mind it was my own old Weardowney label.
"Pleease let me try it on?!" I deliberated, and warned her that if I did, she may not run off with it- because I would chase her. "Pleease?!"
I acquiesced. She looked lovely in it. Her boyfriend said "How much did you pay for it?"
I said £12.00. He said he'd give me twenty.
I thought out-loud and said I was £25 short on the deposit for my new shop- and nabbed the twenty.
"Where's your shop?"said cheeky-girl, becoming in her new hat. I told her. "Give us a job?!". I might just do that, and we can share hat happiness.
A lovely lady waiting for a cab to take her home was chuckling. "Thank-you, I shall enjoy dining out on that story. Where's your shop?"
I told her.
"Oh yes" she said as her friends joined her.
"We heard all about that, this morning. Nice to meet you".
And that is how it is hereabouts dear Em.
I wouldn't have it any other way.
See you and Annabel soon, big hugs and kisses,
Your ever-loving Grand-mother, GiGi xxxx
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