Valentino forgive them (on how I destroyed places and things I hated…) |

There's one thing I consistently hate in my life: people who don't listen. It often happened to me that I submitted articles to newspapers/magazines or interviews with artists/bands/musicians or presented a creative project to bodies/organisations who were supposed to fund artists and of being turned down. Yet that wasn't painful, as you must learn to be turned down in your life.

What was painful in fact was seeing that particular newspaper or magazine publishing something on that particular artist/band/musician/designer/whatever two years after I had suggested it or that particular body/organisation agreeing to give their funds to a project similar to mine ten years after I had submitted my original project and to another artist. Life can be unfair and I have plenty examples of such "unfairness": I don't want to list them all here and bore you to death, so I will only mention you how two years after I sent to all the fashion magazines and newspaper supplements I knew of in the UK an outline for a feature about the 2007 Hyères Festival winner Sandra Backlund and was turned down, Tilda Swinton was photographed for a photo shoot on AnOther Magazine (that was also previewed on The Observer Woman last week) wearing different outfits by various young and talented designers, among the others also by Sandra Backlund.

In the past when something such as this happened, I would get very upset and scream and shout a lot. Growing older and therefore supposedly wiser I discovered I had some secret hidden powers inside myself and that shouting and crying wasn't going to take me anywhere. In fact I discovered that I could destroy things I hated from a distance, just concentrating a little bit.

A few examples: my hate for Glasgow's Jordanhill College (where I spent 9 months being mentally tortured by demented journalism lecturers who obliged us to learn shorthand and write stories about what was going on in the almost dead campus…) turned into an accidental fire that burnt down part of the college (though I missed my aim and accidentally destroyed the department next to the journalism one, damn…). Then I tried to burn down from a distance Glasgow's useless paper, The Herald, but I only managed to get all the staff sacked and eventually re-admitted to work, though there were some major cuts.

Now I have a new victim on my list, the Glasgow Film Theatre. I did there quite a few courses, the most interesting one was about cinema and fashion. The people who had joined it were actively interested in it and that made the course really exciting. When Rodolphe Marconi's film Largerfeld Confidential came out I suggested to do an event connected to it, exploring also Lagerfeld's work as a costume designer. The new staff at the education department – being heavily influenced by the deep miserabilism that Glasgow weather and particular films shot in Glasgow or by Scottish directors can throw you in – turned it down saying it was a "niche" event. I thought that's what an independent cinema does, niche events. In fact my suggestion didn't incorporate a manicure, cocktails inspired by the film and a styling session with Patricia Field.
As the months and years passed I avoided suggesting them any other event that connected fashion and film, as obviously there wasn't only a lack of interest in this stuff, there was also a deep ignorance from their part about this topic.

Two years after that rejection the Glasgow Film Festival has been glorious advertising its programme that also features, lo and behold, the screening of Matt Tyrnauer's Valentino: The Last Emperor, introduced by Che Camille's owner. Now, I wonder if Lagerfeld is less niche than Valentino. Well, maybe Glasgow's neds are experts in Italian fashion and I didn't know it.

What puzzles me is not only the fact that they have opted for a film, which, say what you want, is a niche film, but also the choice of linking a shop that champions independent designers with a film about one of the richest and basically mainstream fashion designers.

Things aren't over yet: in an attempt at trying to feel adequate enough with its English cousins, the screening coincides with London Fashion Week kicking off and will be followed by a little party. The invitation card says to wear something red "in homage to Valentino". Sadly, I won't be able to go otherwise, but I can assure you that if I had gone, I would have worn anything but red just to piss people off.

I should be happy about Valentino's film being screened at Glasgow's Gft and I am because it's an indirect revenge for not having been understood two years ago. What I'm not happy about is trying to link it to a supposedly local independent fashion scene that doens't know much about Valentino and that doesn't really care about him. Well, it's the case of saying, Valentino forgive them, for they know not what they do.