‘Blame Judy!’
On the anniversary of his death, THREADS Editor Benedetta remembers Judy Blame, a seminal cultural icon teaching fashion, punk, craftiness and naughtiness to an entire generation…
An anecdote that encapsulates the essence of Judy Blame, in my opinion, is the one told by his friend and fellow New Romantic, the iconic Scarlett Cannon. Born as Chris Barnes, the ‘Blame’ found him while working in the coat check at Heaven, back when he was only known as Judy (after Judy Garland). He had gotten into a peculiar habit, and a premonition of what his career would eventually turn out to be: as tired club-goers would flock to him to get their coats back, Judy, after one too many drinks, often advised them to take the garment that he thought would suit them best instead. People weren’t too happy about it. ‘We’ve got to blame Judy,’ they soon started to complain. ‘Blame Judy!’
And this is how Judy Blame was born.
When ICA Executive Director Gregor Muir asked him about his birthplace, the stylist and designer replied: ‘Well, it says Leatherhead on my birth certificate, which I am quite happy about.’
From Leatherhead to Spain, and then back to the UK; Devon, the countryside. A suffocating quietness that couldn’t contain him. During that time, a very young Judy found in music a refuge: he would spend his days in his bedroom, listening to David Bowie, Lou Reed, ‘over and over again, the same records’. And Bowie and Reed were painting big windows on his bedroom’s walls - windows not looking out to the idle fields he’d grown so bored of, but into the worlds and streets that somewhere, somehow, existed. Of his time living in Spain, he told Muir about roaming around the Prado Museum, falling in love with Spanish art; Goya’s drawings reminding him of horror films.
If Goya was his introduction to art and Bowie the soundtrack of his idle Devon days, what gave him the idea that it was possible to be recognised as a maker of things, and to fashion things (whether saleable or not wasn’t the point) with his own hands, was punk music. Punk rock plucked him out of the mellow countryside to then drop him in the busy stress of the capital. A one-way ticket to London. During the same interview, Judy recalls being lured in by the filthy allure of the city, and heading over to Vivienne Westwood’s shop where he was served by Vivienne herself. She sold him ‘a pair of bondage trousers and a destroyed t-shirt, and that was it.’
Back then, punk was this purifying force of destruction, or rather deconstruction; tearing apart to create, turn those discarded pieces into something else; something alive, pulsating with life. Judy Blame’s storytelling is par to no one; he talked about his youth — David Bowie, punk music, then the New Romantics, Leigh Bowery — with both candour and humour. A genuine desire to spend a few more moments with his old friends, and resurrect that life; the city that was, the people that made it what it was.
“... Judy recalls being lured in by the filthy allure of the city, and heading over to Vivienne Westwood’s shop where he was served by Vivienne herself.”
And it was always about people; your people. It was about finding or forming a community within the alienating urban wilderness. Finally belonging somewhere. It was about fashion in the sense of fashioning. Fashioning the present, stitching tears and smiles together until you couldn’t tell them apart. Seeing possibilities where others see nothing. DIY before DIY was cool. Arguably the same fashion that we now need the most.
Existing as a young creative at the moment is indeed quite the adventure: relentlessly elbowing one's way through both physical and digital ecosystems, gasping for air while nobody else is looking. Not to mention, a lack of spaces, with creative hubs like the Omega Works warehouses being converted into luxury flats. The thriving communities of creatives living there forced to abandon their homes and workspaces.
It is no wonder that today’s youth are full of contradictions: simultaneously yearning for community, pining for human connection, while also prioritising the self; a curated self. Micro-trends keep popping up, small niches in which we curl up, holding tight to the things through which we can express our desires, needs, and wants. Living in late capitalism, this has become one of the few ways young people can feel in control and experience a form of power over their own lives.
Many young designers are trying to navigate through these perilous and unwelcoming waters: names such as Monozygotics, Rosie Evans and A Quiet Revolution, to mention a few. Creatives who have built their businesses around upcycling, self-expression, as well as fostering human connection and community. It's not just about cutting fabrics to create something beautiful but redefining the very meaning of what 'beautiful' is. In other words, they’re keeping that Judy Blame-esque DIY, punk spirit alive.
To this day, I think of Judy Blame as the scornful, kind, and naughty face fashion. The face that could spot pieces of metal in the trash and turn them into jewels. The face that would rather hide inside a McDonald’s before a runway show than mingle with the mighty and rich. The face that would smirk and growl, hungry for human connection.
Or maybe I am reading too much into it. After all, as Judy said, “really the most important thing was looking fabulous.” And also, as filmmaker Don Letts said, “Punk rock is not something to look back, it is something to look forward to.”
credits
words — benedetta mancusi
photography — PYMCA/UIG via getty images
design — karina so.