I first saw Anita Pallenberg on the front page of The Sun, when I was twelve years old. I was entranced by her glamour and spent my frugal pocket money on a copy of the paper. I became obsessed with how Anita dressed, her classy beauty, her irreverence and lack of concern for the opinion of others. She had style. It was as if she had Paris couture somehow streaming through her veins. I set Anita up as my inspiration.
She was the first woman that I registered as being dazzlingly, amazingly beautiful. She also had something undefinable that made me admire her and want to understand her.
I met Anita in 1983 when I was living in Rome. I was sitting in a cafe outside the Pantheon and somebody tapped me on the shoulder and said hello - and it was her. We forged a friendship like two school girls.
Anita’s idiosyncratic style philosophy was inspiring. Weirdly, we did discuss fashion, even though it’s something one doesn’t usually talk about except in passing. She had interesting observations about fashion and how people dressed, why things were good or not. It reminded me of when I used to listen to my Dad talk about painting and why something was good, and I’d think, ‘Wow, that would never have come into my mind.’ She was like that about clothes.
When I’m feeling a bit directionless with a new collection, I think about Anita and I immediately know where to go.