Goodbye, Stephen Linard
It was a privilege to know you
At 9.30 on Sunday morning, March 10, Stephen Linard died.
Now many of you probably won’t have heard his name, but for those of us who knew him – or just knew of him – Stephen was an icon.
He first entered my consciousness in September 1981, when I picked up my copy of British Vogue (which as an aspiring magazine editor, I read like a holy text) and saw the drawings for his menswear degree show at St Martin’s.
He had graduated that summer and it was such an extraordinary collection that Vogue did a feature about it. That doesn’t happen very often from a student show – and even though it was menswear, they put it in the main magazine.
That really was something.
Somewhere in my attic, I still have that cutting. I tore it out and I’ve kept it ever since.
The collection was called Reluctant Emigrés and the men in the wonderful drawings wore clothes that looked like they’d walked across Europe in them, but had added the odd sheer shirt on the way...
It was so romantic and so cool, but from this perspective, it’s almost hard to remember what it was about those clothes that was so fresh and mind blowing – because they all look completely contemporary right now.
Putting it in context, 1981 came after the worst of the centre-parted 100% bri nylon 70s, when Biba was already a memory. Punk had shaken things up and what Stephen’s vision did, I think, was offer a new style beyond punk, which kept its vivid spirit.
The clothes looked a bit messed up, but they also had an elegance. They were superb tailoring, worn hard.
Inspired by those drawings I scoured the charity shops of St Andrews, where I was in the last year of my degree, to find things to try to create Stephen’s look for myself.
I found a great pair of old men’s rich brown elephant cord trousers, gorgeously soft and worn in, and a beautiful collarless man’s shirt with a fine black double stripe.
The trousers were huge, so I wore them – and this was the key of the look – with a belt and braces. Sometimes an old waistcoat went over the top.
I felt so cool in that outfit, I think I wore it every day.
So that was when I first became aware of Stephen as a designer – but I’d actually already seen loads of pictures of him in I-D magazine (another holy text), because he was one of the fabulous Blitz kids, from the legendary nightclub.
Zip forward from there to five or so years ago and Stephen moved to St Leonards, which is part of Hastings, where I live, enticed down by his great friend, the wonderful Sue Tilley (the famous model for Lucien Freud and generally marvellous human being), who had relocated here previously – along with a lot of other people who used to feature at the Blitz.
I was already friends with fabulous Sue, so I was thrilled at the prospect of meeting this man I had admired for so long.
He did not disappoint. Stephen is the best-dressed person I’ve ever known.
Every time there was an event down here, I would be excited to see what he’d have on. My favourites were his bespoke suits. There was an amazing one in printed velvet and another made of a patchwork of samples of different tweeds. And bright pink and many more.
He was tiny – not a skerrick of fat on him – and in these perfectly tailored suits, of an Italian-influenced cut (quite a short jacket) he looked like David Bowie’s cousin who was actually an elf.
He was also very funny, a brilliant raconteur – and he could be bitchy, with great style. His old friend and Blitz companion, Emmy-winning costume designer Michele Clapton (Game of Thrones) described his very particular manner perfectly: ‘grumpy kindness.’
There is a lot more to Stephen’s life than I feel qualified to go into here – particularly why a designer of his talent never became a household name.
He was exponentially more than good enough to carry his own label – and certainly to have lead one of the big Paris houses.
The best way to find out more about him, is to do what he used to say to anyone who asked about his life and career: ‘Google me’.
Probably the best place to look is the Shapers of the 80s site, by David Johnson, from where I borrowed the pictures of the degree show, which Mr Johnson took.
He also wrote the catalogue for the retrospective exhibition Stephen had at the Rogue Gallery in St Leonards last year. Link here.
I’m so happy Stephen had that exhibition before it was too late – the turn out for the private view was spectacular and showed just how valued and loved he was.
There were hordes of people there who had known him 40 years. I’m very grateful that I was able to know him even a little.
Stephen embodied the spirit of fearlessly individual – but historically informed – London style, that is so admired around the world.
On Sunday morning, a light went out.
Stephen’s illustrious friends of many decades have posted some wonderful tributes on the socials.
Caryn Franklin wrote this excellent piece on Instagram.
Dylan Jones said this.
Stephen Jones OBE.
Rogues Gallery posted a pic from the private view.
And here he is in doll form…
Such a beautifully personal tribute to a spectacular human.