Another Time, Another Place

I am so not a fashionista. The closest I’ve come to haute couture-Land was a trip to the Betsey Johnson boutique on Melrose Avenue  in 1990. So until yesterday, I knew next to nothing about L’Wren Scott, the model-turned-clothing designer who took her own life this week at her New York City home. But when I heard her described as a droll and somewhat self-effacing person wrapped in a gracious, somewhat formal Old World air, I thought, Hey, that sounds familiar! Kind of like a much more interesting and talented…me!

She was brought up in a homeschooling Mormon household in Utah; I was raised by Victorians in the South. And yet, I think we were both thoroughly steeped in a culture that’s all but vanished now; one where people stood ramrod straight with their hands held behind their backs when talking to a respected elder and the men all stood up whenever a female over the age of 12 walked in the room. The result of this upbringing is someone who seems a bit out of sync with modern sensibilities and more than a little stiff; awkward, even. Someone to whom strangers are drawn in the hope of finding a soft, vulnerable core inside that rigid, prickly exterior but has a hard time letting anyone get close enough to find out for sure. You’d think that people like us would become human time capsules and retreat to a world of our own making where we can be as formal as our little old-school hearts desired, and yet, L’Wren and I were drawn to some of the most un-stuffy subcultures known to humankind.

It’s inexplicable why anyone who might be best described as “quaint” would want to hang out with people who let it all hang out. By all rights, we should be viewed with the utmost mistrust and skepticism (“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this? Here’s some cab fare; go back to 1860″ should be the sum total of the verbal interaction between us and the ultra-hip). But I think that just as we schoolmarmish folk are drawn to these devil-may-care types, they’re equally fascinated by us. In a scene rife with flakes and nomads, they can count on our steadfast loyalty. No matter how far they roam, we’ll always keep that candle burning in the window for them. And when they do stride through that door all bleary-eyed, the stale smell of cigarettes and airliners clinging to their untrimmed hair, we’ll fix breakfast and mend their torn britches while they tell us all about last Tuesday’s visit to the Reeperbahn and how it hasn’t changed since the first time they went there back in ’86. In short, they need us, sometimes a lot more than we need them.

And those rare times when we do need them, there’s a good chance that they won’t be there in either body or spirit. But that’s the risk you take when you throw your lot in with people who roam for a living.

It’s all speculation, of course, but if L’Wren and I were anything alike, I think I understand what happened with her this Monday. Despite having gorgeous designs and high profile friends in her corner (I mean, hello, Michelle Obama? Sarah Jessica Parker? Angelina Jolie?), her clothing brand was headed for imminent implosion under the weight of staggering debt. She was critically acclaimed and very well respected in her chosen field, and yet she couldn’t quite win over the general public for some reason. How frustrating and soul-numbingly disappointing that must have been for someone who was raised with the sort of work ethic that she had, where good, honest effort almost guaranteed success. But it’s hard to understand what the public wants when you’re riding a different wavelength; one that runs oh, so close to theirs but never…quite…touches it.

And I know how hard it is to reach out to others in your darkest hour. When you’re the rock, the strong one, and you start to crumble…no, it’s unthinkable. Nuh-uh. So you keep your stoic silence like a good Neo-Victorian. Stiff upper lip and all that, wot wot? When she took her life, her long-time partner Mick Jagger was on the other side of the world, on tour with the Rolling Stones in Australia. He’s said to be in hell right now, grieving and utterly mystified by her action. I hope in time he can come to terms with her loss and regain his personal peace. This was in no way his fault; I believe that L’Wren took her own life despite and not because of his absence. When you break, you break.

So yeah, while I would nevereverever choose that horrible, final option, I can understand why L’Wren thought it was the only one she had. And I’m very sad for the friends and loved ones she left behind, because she sounded like an amazing person. I’m sure any of them would have dropped everything to be by her side if they had known what she was going through.

I never knew L’Wren Scott and now I never will. But tonight, a candle burns in my window for her. Godspeed you to the other side, good lady.