Tim Walker, September 2013

Kristen McMenamy for the editorial ‘Beautifully Strange’ in the Sunday Times Style Magazine

She had planned on making her entrance as ‘Samantha’ – the button nosed, blonde from ‘Bewitched’. A cutesy sorcerer for Halloween 2014. Without a doubt, Morgana knew that she had to make up for mistakes of October’s past. This ‘safe’ look couldn’t fail to impress and would induce minimal terror. In 2012…the ‘Evil Clown’ was a sartorial disaster. Despite her use of Chanel’s camelia brooch as the token flower on her vintage Galliano tailcoat, a curly orange wig works on no one. In 2013…her ‘Crazy Cat Lady’ costume was taken far too seriously. Whilst waiting for her friend to use the cash machine, Morgana was given half a flapjack and the remainder of a Starbuck’s latte by some well meaning, but ill informed passer by.

At seven, she bundled herself and her blow dry into the car and pushed the sparkly broomstick into the boot. Victor’s party was at his parent’s castle, which meant a gloomy two mile jaunt along the grand driveway that wound itself around the hill from the main road to their home.  Branches loomed above the car and tapped the roof with every gust of wind. ‘Ill-kempt by moonlight,’ Morgana thought – the Frankenstein family’s gardener must be away.

She thought things were going far too well for a Halloween evening. Her track record of autumnal mishaps in previous years meant a feeling of impending doom was beginning to seep into her veins. The fur on her Fendi bag charm had begun to stand on end. Sure enough the car squeaked to a halt precisely half way along the track. Try as she might, Morgana could not start it again. She was powerless to do anything to alter the course of events. The incantations some might suspect her of possessing would not come to her lips and her Moschino clad iPhone could not be conjured to help across the starry sky from the kitchen table on which it lay. There was nothing for it, but to get out of the car and walk the rest of the way.

She immediately fell head first into a ditch. Thorns loosened her blow dry, tying the delicate curls in knots. Morgana grabbed at roots, pulling herself out of the muddy hole. But, with every scramble she heard a tear. Her mother’s Sixties Dior couture was ripped to shreds with every movement. Emerging from the depths of the woodland floor, her bright white dress was now grey, in tatters and sheer. As she felt the squish of freshly blooming Snowdrops beneath her, Morgana realised that her feet were bare. Her bejewelled Sophia Webster’s lay covered in earth and brambles some distance away. She began to hobble to the party, prepared to make an unintentionally dramatic entrance.

The Frankenstein family forest was by no means the most charming of locations through which to take an evening stroll. Its eery nature was compounded by the occasional owl hoot and now…Morgana could hear the crunching of leaves beneath hooves. From behind a wizened old tree, a stag emerged. He stood stock still, blinking at Morgana in the dim light created by the clouds that blew across the moon in the breeze. In that instant, a bold plan entered her mind. Had anyone ever hitched a ride on a woodland creature before? The stag appeared friendly and there was only one way to find out if her idea was viable…

Morgana climbed onto the creature’s back and they both strode out boldly along the path towards the castle. Feeling rather pleased with herself and daydreaming contentedly about impressing her friends with this new ‘pet’, Morgana was shocked to hear the ‘beep’ of a horn and find herself caught in the glaring headlights of a car.

Tim Walker had accepted the invitation to the party on the basis that Vincent had friends with the sort of fashion sense that resembled that of the imaginary characters in his famed fashion shoots. He hoped that he might capture some of these avante garde people through his lens and the Frankenstein family castle was typical of the fairy tale settings Tim loved to portray. The photographer had not expected, however, to come across one of Victor’s acquaintances on his journey in the dark. Tim swiftly opened the car door and snapped Morgana just as she put her hands to her face in an exclamation of shock.

The photographer took Morgana’s hand and drove her the remaining ten metres to the large oak doors of the family estate, where Victor stood waiting for his final guests to arrive. As she watched the stag trundle off into the woods through the car’s rear window, Morgana wondered how she would explain her look to others. “I have come as Lady Godiva,” she elaborated to a room full pretty witches wiggling their glittery noses. It would seem this night’s misadventure had helped Morgana to look far more original than she had aspired to.

Another ‘Image of the Month’ for you to contemplate.

Hope you enjoy this read.

Gemma x