Twiggy, mother of Carly.

I met her once. She was doing a book-signing at one of my many places of work. I was crowd control. Unaided. It was a long queue, and I had keep everyone in place, so that regular shoppers could get up the stairs without struggle. I was told by one of my ‘superiors’ to inform everyone that Twiggy would not be ‘doing photographs’. I diligently told every single person in the queue, and not one of them took any bloody notice.

It was taken from a leaflet for ‘Revolution? Records and Rebels 1966-1970’, an exhibition at the V&A. It was the highlight of Mr. S’s year because he got to sit on pretend grass and imagine being at Woodstock. The photograph is by Bert Stern.

You can see the whole piece, here

4 thoughts on “Twiggy

      • It does seem so. I remember being a little girl and everyone shocked at her clothes and her tiny little body! But reading about her and knowing now how her life has turned out, I think she must be smart and sensible, as you say. It’s kind of nice to see what she made of her life, and I enjoy contrasting it with the uproar so long ago…

  1. Pingback: Patchwork Of Mothers | Alison Sye

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