“He’s dead now,” said Vivienne Westwood, as if to justify herself, before slagging off (yet again) her erstwhile romantic/creative/business partner, Malcolm McLaren. Now that Westwood is dead, I can tell the truth without being accused of defamation by her and her company — again. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. How else can you explain Westwood’s unrelenting animosity towards McLaren, who gave her a career and set her up for life, before they broke up in the early Eighties after roughly 15 rocky but productive years together.
She made it a life-long mission to rewrite history, trying to erase his fashion legacy. A gentleman, McLaren didn’t think it right to “speak ill of a woman” and let it go. This was a mistake as she made sure he was never credited for the clothes from their partnership (bearing labels all designed by him, some marked with both their names) if she could help it. Whenever she gave credits for the clothing designed during their partnership, she insisted he be left out.
