Kate Moss

Kate Moss (born January 16, 1974), is an English supermodel who is best known as the "Face of Calvin Klein". Born in Addiscombe, Croydon, Surrey, England, Moss with a height of 5'7" is considered to be the shortest supermodel in the world.
 
Moss was discovered in 1988 by Sarah Doukas (founder, Storm Model Agency http://www.stormmodels.com/), when she was only 14. After shooting for various teenage magazines, she was launched into the international fashion arena by Harper's Bazaar.
 
Kate Moss is said to have started the trend of the controversial waif look, that critics claim encourages anorexia in impressionable teenagers. On September 29, 2002, Moss gave birth to her daughter Lila Graceyfriend at the St. John and Elizabeth Hospital in West London with her boyfriend Jefferson Hack. She had earlier dated actor Johnny Depp for over three years.
 
Moss recently sought help for a sleeping disorder at a top London Clinic, after being exhausted with a busy year in modelling, raising her daughter and facing relationship problems with Jefferson Hack.
 
In early 2005 Moss began dating ex-Libertines' frontman Pete Doherty, who hit the headlines due to his crack cocaine and heroin abuse.
 
In February 2005, a nude potrait of Kate Moss by Lucian Freud was sold for £3.93 million.
 
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Ask Hadley: Hot fashion trends for 2009

New year, new wardrobe - what should I be wearing this year?Gina Stone, by emailGee, I dunno, Gina - tops? Jeans? Dresses? Maybe a maverick pair of shorts here and there? Something you should definitely be working this season are shoulders, and for anyone out there saying, "Well that's fortunate - look, I happen to have two on me right now," you can just put down this paper and go hang out with certain members of my family on a Miami beach golf course and amuse each other greatly with your debonair wit. When I say "shoulder", obviously I mean "shoulder pads" - like, duh! Big shoulders are very good this season, which means that Vogue has jettisoned Kate Moss as its covergirl and soon we will all be admiring fashion shoots starring American football players (yes, thank you, Grampa Bill - back to your golf course with you, thank you very much). And remember how for ages (ie, the last three years - ages!) founts of fashion wisdom such as my good self have been telling you that thick heels are great and thin ones are rubbish? Well, that should be erased from your memories quicker than Hillary's former hatred of her then rival, now boss, Obama (new year's resolution: cut down on self-indulgent parentheses). So it's back to spindly teeter-totter heels you go. Or not. I don't want to be fundamentalist about such things but just be warned that if you don't wear spindly stiletto heels, you will be damned to hell.But, without a doubt, my most hotly anticipated upcoming trend is harem shorts. Now, to the less sophisticated eye, and possibly one on a Miami beach fairway, these may look like incontinence pants. But I ask you this: so what? Some of us long for the time when we will be medically allowed to wear incontinence pants. Just imagine the convenience! Honestly, many an hour has been whiled away in the ladies toilet queue dreaming of this too-long-forthcoming day. My God, I am so excited about 2009!After Christmas and new year, I feel about as big as a house and as bloated as a balloon. Are empire line dresses still acceptable, as that's all I can face now, or do I have to squeeze into my jeans?Marie, by emailYou have to suck it up and squeeze in, Marie. That's right, I want you to start the new year as uncomfortably as possible because I am a fashion bitch and that is that - evil cackle, evil cackle, evil cackle.Ahhhh, but seriously folks - don't sweat it! It gives me true, nay, even heartening delight to see how the movement of the solar system anticipates our needs and accommodates them accordingly. For example, in the winter it is cold and it is miserable and there is nothing to do in the evenings but sit around and eat and watch shows hosted by a presenter more self-mockingly camp than a boxset of Carry On films. Lo, poundage is gained. But hark! What light through yonder window shines? It is the cold, and big heavy knits are the answer. Thus, in the season when you need coverage, you are, temperature-wise, obliged to wear it. The trick is not to get stuck on the idea that jeans are the obvious solution because jeans are the friend of no woman feeling a bit sensitive about her muffin top (the one that's around her middle, that is - obviously the actual muffin top was scarfed down long ago). Put on a massive jumper dress or something similar that is basically a woolly cocoon, slip on some wool tights, finish with boots and you're good to go (and finish that apple pie).Fashionguardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2009 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds
Published: Mon, 05 Jan 2009 00:02:47 GMT - Source: Guardian.Co.Uk - Read the article

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Miranda Sawyer interviews Christopher Ciccone

'I was born my mother's son, but I will die my sister's brother." So says Christopher Ciccone in his book Life With My Sister Madonna. It's an unauthorised biography, one that Madonna is reportedly unhappy about; it came out last summer and was yet another glitch in a tricky year for the Queen of Pop. She's a trouper and her career has been through worse patches. But despite the fact that her Sticky and Sweet tour was a hit (the highest-grossing tour of the year) and she was inducted into America's Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, it's the other stuff that we, and she, will remember about Madonna's 2008. "2008? Well, she turned 50, there was the divorce with Guy, the stuff with her kids and there was my book. All these things that she has no control over came crashing down at the same moment. And my sister," says Christopher, twisting his mouth, "is big on control."We are in Los Angeles, at the home of a brother of a megastar. Christopher's apartment is in West Hollywood, a one-bedroom joint. It's surprisingly tiny and feels smaller: stuffed like a junk shop with heavy, antique furniture, piled up art books, umpteen family photographs and paintings, many done by Christopher. The artist is ill in bed, struck down by a stomach complaint the night before our interview is scheduled. So I'm shown around by Scott, one of his friends, who's over from Britain trying to launch himself as a presenter/actor. Scott, a very sweet chap, talks me through all of Christopher's work, including a series of photographs of men's behinds, which Scott thinks "predates that Dazed & Confused vibe that's everywhere now". I'm not sure - they just look like snapshots of bottoms to me, though I do like his colourful, impressionistic paintings. Anyway, I'm more interested in the family pics. Here's a young Madonna cuddling baby sister Melanie; Madonna and Christopher looking minxy and fun; a formal portrait of their mother, also called Madonna, who died when they were very young. Some of these photos appear in Christopher's book; he tells me his sister "went crazy" at their dad for giving permission for them to be printed.Christopher, two years younger than his famous sibling, has not been in regular contact with Madonna for some time now. The last time he saw her, in 2006, she sent tickets for her Confessions show in Miami and made a point of dedicating a song to him: "It was quite a nice moment," he says now, "but it was my sister's way of publicly showing how kind she is to her family. It was calculated." They haven't spoken properly since. She didn't know he'd written his book; by the time she got wind of it, it was printed and only three weeks from being launched. She emailed Christopher just two words: "Call me." But he didn't.Christopher receives me atop his bed, in pyjamas and striped silk gown, reclining on two enormous Versace pillows. A small picture of Frida Kahlo is positioned so he can see it, for strength, I suppose. I interviewed Madonna a few years ago and Christopher resembles her: heart-shaped face, strong eyebrows, beautiful, curly-lashed eyes. He also shares her bluntness though lacks her charm. This might be because he's ill; he's definitely uncomfortable, cutting our chat short and generally seeming tense, especially when Madonna is discussed. What an irony! You write a book about your sister to give yourself a separate identity. Then people interview you about it and, naturally, only talk about her. Which is what I do. What does she think of his book?"She probably thinks of it as a desperate attempt for attention and money," says Christopher, his voice a mellifluous tenor that seems to rumble up from his toes. "And, ultimately, a betrayal. I think of it as a thesaurus - it's different ways of defining people and myself - and also as another piece of art. "Other than that, there are two factions. People who hate me because they think I've betrayed their icon. And then the people who hate me because they think I haven't betrayed her enough. The other day, I was walking through a gay bar and I heard this guy whisper, 'Traitor!' It was pretty funny." As adults, the pair were very close, much the tightest of the eight Ciccone brothers and sisters. They were born and brought up in Detroit, Michigan; Madonna the oldest girl, Christopher the second youngest boy, fifth-born. Their dad Sylvio, known as Tony, married Joan, the family housekeeper, after his first wife died, at 30, of breast cancer. Joan ran a strict household, trying to keep all the kids in order, a hard task, especially as the six older ones weren't hers. Madonna's desire for fame and love is usually traced back to the loss of her mother when she was five. However, Christopher thinks that Joan hasn't got her dues. He says that as she gets older, Madonna has taken on much of their stepmother's sergeant-major tendencies, "insisting that everything has to be done her way, according to her timetable and that life must be lived by her rules". When Madonna left home and started out in pop, in the Borderline-Lucky Star-Holiday mid-80s, Christopher was one of the two male dancers behind her. He performed at her early club dates. When she graduated to proper tours, he was her dresser. In the book, he seems embarrassed about this job, refusing to tell any of his friends. When I ask why, he says: "Well, technically, it was beneath me. I did it because she needed me, but it bred resentment. Not many people would have been able to deal with her stuff [she shouted at him a lot]." You could see this as the fatal flaw in their relationship, for Christopher; he hated being subservient to his sister, but liked being needed by her and, like everyone else around her, enjoyed the perks. Anyway, Christopher stopped being Madonna's dresser when he progressed to becoming director of her live shows, Blond Ambition and the Girlie Show, both of which were dazzling successes. He was also in charge of the interior decoration of all of her houses; plus, on and off, he lived with her, right through the Sean Penn marriage and the Warren Beatty interlude. For many years, Madonna's life was his life. Rupert Everett wrote in his autobiography: "To know Madonna at all, you had to know Christopher. The one was incomprehensible without the other."So how come they fell out? What happened? She dropped him. In 2001, Madonna appointed a different director - choreographer Jamie King - for her Drowned World tour and didn't tell Christopher. Around the same time, she married Guy Ritchie, who nitpicked about her brother's interior work. And Christopher got into what he calls "partying", meaning going out and taking cocaine, a big no-no for Madonna. "From the moment I found out that I wasn't doing Drowned World, to her and Guy's wedding, everything became a bit of a blur, a dark, fairly negative period of time for me. You know, she was my family. I wasn't close to my other brothers and sisters, I moved out when I was 18 and moved to New York so... she was my family. Plus I'd come out of a 10-year relationship straight after the Girlie Show. So losing that, losing her - I was kind of out there for the first time in 15 years by myself." His eyebrows furrow, he clasps his hands over his stomach.For his part, Christopher began pulling away too. He was upset with Madonna for dispensing with his services; he disliked Guy Ritchie, who he thinks is homophobic (Christopher is gay); and, as he no longer worked with his sister, he realised he had to establish himself as a separate entity. He continued with his interiors, he directed pop videos, he designed T-shirts. But nothing hit the heights of what he'd achieved before.So he wrote his book, which reached number two in the New York Times non-fiction bestseller list and number one in the equialent UK list despite Christopher not doing many promotional interviews. Rumour has it that Madonna's people lent hard on US magazines and TV shows in order to curtail his press. To be honest, though, there's not much in the book for her to worry about. She goes to bed at 11pm every night! She gave Christopher his first ecstasy tablet! She wouldn't pay for her sister Paula to come to her wedding! I suppose the very fact that he wrote it at all is enough to drive her bananas. Christopher toyed with writing his story for years, but he knew he was still angry with Madonna and thought it would be unfair. It was only when he started therapy and (oh no!) studying kabbalah that he felt he could "look back on our work together and be proud of it and not hate her for dragging me through this". What's interesting about that is that it was Madonna who strong-armed him into both. The therapy began because she was trying to force him into rehab for cocaine: instead, Christopher went to a doctor, who established that he was just a recreational user and recommended therapy. Madonna then sent a list of demands to Christopher's therapist, which says quite a lot. And she pressurised him into attending kabbalah meetings by refusing to pay him money she owed for his interior work unless he went along.At kabbalah, he became friendly with Demi Moore, who has since dropped him, too. Of her - and of Madonna - Christopher says grumpily: "A certain kind of diva carries a gay man around like a handbag, like an accessory. And then once they find the right straight guy, they don't need a male companion any more." He quite liked kabbalah, though. "There are great things about it, but the people who run it are not immune to the Hollywood celebrity thing. They'd like to think they are, but they treat celebrities better. When Britney started running around the centre, I was like, 'OK, time for me to go'."Christopher is naturally acerbic and there are some good stories in the book, with funny "partying" cameos from Kate Moss, Naomi Campbell, Donatella Versace and Courtney Love. He describes how Sean Penn makes him do a blood brother pact - cutting their palms and rubbing them together - and then, years later, rushes across at a party to ask Christopher if he has Aids. And there's a Miami evening where several people, including David Geffen, all play truth or dare. Every person, apart from Christopher, vows that if they could have sex with anyone in the room, it would be with Madonna. Even David Geffen, who likes men! "No, it didn't make me laugh," says Christopher sharply. "It made me feel ill."His mood is darkening; he says we'll have to stop soon. So I ask him about his current projects. He's just finished some interior decoration work in Miami, is involved in a hotel project in Mexico City and it looks like he'll be directing a low-budget movie called Twist: "Sex, drugs and murder in Orange County," he smiles. These days, Christopher is just another LA hustler, talking up deals, trading on past glories, pitching for the future. There's nothing wrong with that - it's how the city works. But it must be hard when you've previously been whisked to the top tables, VIP'd at the best parties. Even - or especially - when you know it's only because of your more famous sibling. Maybe he should have pursued a career away from his sister, as the other Ciccones did. "Yes, but she needed me, and I wanted to do it," he says. "Also, even though my brothers and sisters lead very regular lives, that still isn't easy for them. Because first, you compare yourself with Madonna and her success, and because you can't get there, you consider yourself some kind of a failure. And then there's the expectations of other people who know you're Madonna's brother, so why aren't you rich and famous? "The life that she's chosen has had unintended consequences on all of our lives. And it's not as if she'd ever acknowledge that. Even with me, involved with her for 25 years... Madonna isn't big on recognising other people for their contribution." It's clear that Madonna's sudden dropping of Christopher is not unusual for her, though it seems crueller as he is her brother. She's done it with other collaborators, musical or managerial. In fact, her only long-term US employee is press officer Liz Rosenberg and even she might have blown it with her recent leaking of how much Madonna is paying Guy in the divorce settlement. A couple of weeks ago, Rosenberg gave different numbers to different publications. A joint release from Ritchie and Madonna was issued within a day, saying that all the figures were inaccurate. Oops. Christopher is generous about the divorce, despite his feelings about Ritchie: "As much as I dislike Guy and as much as he may dislike me, I would never wish for the end of their marriage. Though, without getting into too much detail, Guy isn't quite the gentleman I thought he was trying to be. There are some myths running around about this amicable divorce stuff. It's not quite as sweet and clear-cut and dried..." He won't elaborate, but later on says this: "Madonna isn't a cheapskate, she's very practical and pragmatic. However, like most people she has a tendency to give her money away with strings attached. She gets the best bang for her buck."What about Christopher? Has he got the best bang for his buck? He won't say how much he was paid for his book, but it must have been good money. Was it worth it? By writing about Madonna, he's burnt umpteen bridges. "Oh yeah. It's a fine line to write a book of this nature," he says. "You can absolutely destroy your career. But I think because it's not a vicious book, then people are reading it, it's worthwhile. And more importantly, I didn't tear our family apart."Do you miss her?"I miss working with her, on her tours and in her houses. Madonna isn't a really buddy-buddy, palsy-around, slap-you-on-the-back, beer-at-the-pub kind of girl. Because we were all so focused on her, I now realise that she really didn't know me at all as a person. But I did some of my best work with her, and she did with me, and I miss that part of it."You know, it's interesting. By doing a book like this, you get to see who are really your friends and who just wants the seats in the restaurants, the connections with Madonna, the access to the tickets. Now, I have a small group of people who care about me and look after me and I know who they are and that's great. But I lost quite a few people who I thought were my friends. It made me feel vindicated on some levels about certain people. But in the end, it makes me feel lonely."? Life With My Sister Madonna by Christopher Ciccone is published by Simon & Schuster, £17.99Il Ciccone: Christopher's lifeBy Gordon Agar1960: Born 22 November in Bay City, Michigan, to Madonna Louise (who died of breast cancer, aged 30, in 1963) and Silvio "Tony" Ciccone. His siblings are Martin, Anthony, Madonna, Paula Mae, Melanie, Jennifer and Mario.1980: Begins career as a dancer with Le Groupe de La Place Royale in Ottawa.1982: Moves to New York; choreographs Madonna's Everybody video.1984: Appears as a backing dancer on Madonna's Lucky Star video.1990: Artistic director of Madonna's $65m-grossing Blond Ambition world tour, which included controversial depictions of sex and Catholicism.1993: Designs and directs Madonna's Girlie Show world tour.2003: Madonna dispenses with her brother's services, employing choreographer Jamie King to direct her Drowned World tour. 2008: In pre-production to direct serial killer thriller TwistMadonnaguardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2009 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds
Published: Sun, 04 Jan 2009 00:04:21 GMT - Source: Guardian.Co.Uk - Read the article

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At first sniff ...

In any department store at this time of year there is a reliably comic sight - buyers trying to choose discounted perfumes by sniffing the necks of the spray bottles. Scent makes sense on skin, and only on skin. Why are we such fools about fragrance? Led on by lush advertising, seduced by editorial gush in magazines dependent on their advertisers, we abandon natural discrimination and distrust our own noses. Scents are not so much objects as performances, processes, but we lack a process for appraising them. Book critics can be savagely partisan, opera critics sniffy, and film critics make you choose to stay at home. Could you review a scent as you review these art forms? Yes, I would argue. One word, for example, would sum up Beckham Signature: illiterate. Mitsouko would need a volume of essays.Where do they lurk, the perfume critics? There are scent blogs on the internet, often well-informed. But most bloggers write carelessly, and, in such a subjective matter, some precision is needed. Hope for the enthusiast arrived late last year with Perfumes: The Guide, by Luca Turin and Tania Sanchez. The authors are in love with the subject, but they are sharp and funny. What women have always wanted to know is what scent drives men wild; researchers have the answer, say Turin and Sanchez, and it's bacon. Picking up the cue, Burger King recently launched Flame, a body spray that smells of "flame-broiled meat".But it won't be the scent of Whopper that moves fastest off the shelves in the shopping frenzy of the early new year. Even before Christmas, celebrity scents such as Kate Moss's Velvet Hour could be found on sale at half price. Its name is reminiscent of what Guerlain long ago called L'Heure Bleue - that time of day, the cinq à sept, when cocktails are stirred and the discreet Frenchman would slip away to meet his mistress before going home to dîner en famille. Velvet Hour will do nicely for sex, but don't expect fidelity; ten thousand women smell like this. It's not really a twilight scent; you're more likely to spray it on before midnight, and lurch home at dawn in a dubious minicab with your shoes in your hand and panda eyes, so that its weary amber dry-down competes with the reek of spilled liquor. An initial sweetness of freesia gives ways to incense, and throughout the evening it hits you with blasts of blatant patchouli, so by 3am you want to crawl out of your skin to get away. It's genius, in its way - the persona it layers over your own, the story it tells. Such a sad little tale, though. A medieval theologian, had he possessed one of Kate's tacky-looking blue flasks, could have used it to explain sin - so warm for the first half hour, and afterwards so banal.There are dull women, desperate for distinction, who wear the same fragrance all the time. They may be monogamous, but manufacturers have other ideas; they will change the formula and not admit it. Scent is bound in with snobbery; you may like some downmarket celeb fragrance, but what will you say if someone asks you what you're wearing? If this Christmas you were given Daisy by Marc Jacobs, you'll find it a pretty, amenable floral, the kind of scent that people describe as "very nice". But narrow your eyes and ask yourself this; why do they see you as the kind of woman who wants a bottle with three plasticky flowers on top? Do they think you're sweet but not very bright? Compare it with Stella McCartney's Stella Rose Absolute, which is, admittedly, more expensive. You could buy this scent for someone you don't know well; that's not faint praise. Its dark, chunky bottle could hold an expensive men's fragrance; it has a gentle citrus drift that cuts through sweetness, and a light amber note for balance; it's a lovely summery scent that doesn't layer a persona over your own, just makes you pleasant to be around. It's modern, fresh and natural; it gives rose enthusiasts enough to think about, but won't alienate less floral types.I didn't much want to like it; what's Stella to me, I say, with the world-weary shrug of one who's nearer in age to her father. But that's why we buy scent, to meet our younger selves, or older selves, or the selves we could be. So I can know I'm grown up at last, I want to like scents from houses who were making them when I was a girl and only had the personality and the cash for Apple Blossom. Estée Lauder's Sensuous startles me at first with dolly-mixture sugar, then a fleshy rush of premature intimacy. Thirty minutes, and woody notes creep through, bringing an enticing memory of peeping into the wardrobes of elegant ladies; and no, the note isn't mothballs. Perhaps it needs a bit of body-heat to potentiate it - it has to work hard on a misty winter day - but three hours on, it shows surprising stamina, and it's spicy, interesting, and adult - which is just what I want from Estée Lauder.And if there's something here that still doesn't convince, perhaps my own skin is to blame? It's said that parfumers have stabilised their formulations so that they don't vary, except in their top-notes, from skin to skin, but you may have every reason not to believe them. Comme des Garçons 888: do the designers mean to unleash this bully, that slaps you around the head with a big blast of coriander? With wear, its manners become milder. But still, this is what to give someone if you mean to be remembered and don't care how. The creators say they wanted to produce the olfactory equivalent of gold, but how they get from concept to the substance itself is a mystery. It will suit someone; I'm happy to meet her, after her Asbo is lifted. Perhaps I'm unfair. In eight hours of wear - which is what you really need to be sure - I might accommodate it. But equally, it might eat me.Who's in charge here? It's a question scent raises often. Are you wearing it, or is it stalking you? Will it faithfully follow you everywhere? Unscrewing the surprisingly frail plastic cap of Prada No 3 Cuir Ambre, I say to myself with a big happy smile, a dog is not just for Christmas, a dog is for life. You don't wear this, it pursues you; it's a gorgeous, insistent, leather scent with amber notes, smokily soft. It comes in a small nondescript bottle, its white label has small black type, it's plain as you like; it has no sprayer, because you're going to put this on drop by drop, learn it and learn to live up to it. You could perhaps mistake it for other leather scents, but what you couldn't mistake is its pedigree and its expense. If you can't afford it, just test it; you'll remember, and maybe add it to the ingredients of a better life. Perfumes like this reorient us when life is grey. The ideal scent keeps the wearer interested, evolves with him or her; you can't "solve" it in one go like the plot of a bad detective novel. You need a perfect structure, like Chanel No 5, to keep you safe; and then from time to time you need to subvert expectations, with something that cuts against your style and even your gender. Scent is a demanding art. It privileges what is subjective, skin-close. So seek out what no one else is wearing. Keep a notebook. Scrub off your mistakes. New year is a time for experiment, re-definition, and perfume is a fine place to start.FashionWomenguardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2009 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds
Published: Thu, 01 Jan 2009 00:05:11 GMT - Source: Guardian.Co.Uk - Read the article

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