I almost typed her name as “Late Moss,” which made me decide that everyone in the fashion week secretly calls her that because she shows up whenever she damn well pleases.
I’m not saying that’s how she is; just that I’ve decided it’s true. Certainly this photo looks like a woman who, confidently, has decided the party never really starts without her, even if she’s three hours tardy and drank all the Champagne in the limo. She doesn’t care that she’s in a leather tennis dress that looks like a sexy, slightly baggy vegetable steamer. Because she’s wearing a giant white furry coat and she’s got good hair and makeup and she knows she’s the guest of honor. I don’t know; I’m on record as not being a particular Kate Moss fan, either of her aesthetic or her legacy, but she is pulling off the mix of dramatic and tough and slightly crazy with hygienic-looking aplomb, and I have to hand that to her. I wrote the words “baggy vegetable steamer” and I can’t figure out why Kate Moss ever has to wear an ill-fitted anything, and yet I still find this weirdly successful. Go figure.