NEW YORK — Back in the Mod ’60s, when Twiggy conquered London and fashion changed forever, the waif of a teen with huge eyes, a boyish bob and long legs craved the glamour and curves of a different icon.
“Whether you’re thin, fat, small, dark, blond, redhead, you wanna be something else,” said the world’s first boldface supermodel. “I wanted a fairy godmother to make me look like Marilyn Monroe. I had no boobs, no hips, and I wanted it desperately.”
What Twiggy had was extreme youth, a thirst for fashion and triple-layered false eyelashes that fed her right into the decade’s social revolution alongside The Beatles and Pop art.
Now 60, she remains a one-name wonder with a joyous laugh, a gift for chat and a home girl cockney accent. She’s achieved, slightly, some of those coveted curves, but she hasn’t lost her edge. The singer, dancer, actress and author isn’t done just yet.
Twiggy will soon hit the Home Shopping Network with an affordable line of skinny jeans, ruffled blouses, gypsy skirts, jackets and accessories in bold colors and price points of under $100.
“I’ve always had the strong belief that fashion should be for everyone, not just for wealthy people,” Twiggy said. “Lots of people can’t afford to spend lots of money on clothes, and they should have nice things, too.”
Lots of people who wear lots of different sizes. The “Twiggy London” line will be available up to size 20, said the creator, who cites genes — not starvation — for the rail-thin look that made her the face of 1966 at age 16.
She was born Lesley Hornby in north London’s Neasden to a carpenter dad and a factory worker mom who worked a Woolworth’s counter to earn extra money. At 5 feet, 6 inches — short for a model — Twiggy weighed only 91 pounds when she exploded into the culture.
She met Nigel Davies, who became her boyfriend and manager, when she worked Saturdays in hair salon. He changed his name to the flashier Justin de Villeneuve. He engineered her androgynous ’do for photos for his salon. The pictures were spotted by one of his clients who wrote for the Daily Express and splashed Twiggy across two pages to launch her career.
By 1967, she was on the cover of Vogue, jetting around the world working six days a week and spreading the London look to America, where knee-length hems and pillbox hats inspired by Jackie Kennedy were still the norm.
Before she was discovered, she was already painting on tiny lower lashes — “my twigs” — to help make her eyes look as large as tea saucers. Her look was perfect for emerging unisex trends and ever-rising hemlines, but it opened the debate still raging over whether skinny models promote an unhealthy body ideal, especially for young girls.
“It was debated when I hit the headlines, and I always came out and said that I was very healthy, which I was, and always ate, which I do. I love my food. I just come from a lineage. My dad was very slim, so it’s kind of in the genes really,” she said.
In today’s crowded model marketplace, where competition is far more fierce than when Twiggy came up, girls have died as a result of starvation. She thinks the publishers of fashion magazines, booking agents, modeling agencies and designers all share responsibility.
Twiggy’s interest in fashion design was stronger than modeling ever was.
“I didn’t plan to be a model. I thought the world had gone stark raving mad,” she said. “I was used to being teased at school for being so skinny and I thought I was really funny-looking, but I was obsessed with clothes.”
She retired from modeling in 1970 after four years, joking at the time: “You can’t be a clothes hanger for your entire life.” She moved on to stage, films, TV and singing, earning two Golden Globes and a Tony nomination.
Talk to us
> Give us your news tips.
> Send us a letter to the editor.
> More Herald contact information.
