I just had dinner with a stylist from a high-end fashion magazine who was given the assignment every gay would give his left testicle for: running a rack of clothes round to Madonna’s London townhouse to get personal feedback from her Madgesty for an upcoming shoot. It’s the kind of story best heard straight from the horse’s mouth, but here’s a rundown of the key points:
• Upon entering the house via the back way slash garage, the stylist giddily asked the bodyguard where Madonna’s famed Mini Cooper was. Apparently, she just sold it to the bodyguard, who is giving it to his daughter as a graduation present.
• Madonna’s house is infused with a floral perfume that sprays into every room: Three hours after leaving, you still smell of Madonna.
• Madge was already sitting in an armchair removing her knee-high boots when the stylist entered the room where she was to be shown the clothes. Her exact words of greeting to the stylist were, “This is how it’s going to work. You’re going to show me what you like, and then I’m going to tell you what I like. Would you like a cup of tea?” The stylist refused the cup of tea because he was sweating quite profusely by then.
• The stylist’s first selected item was a leather jacket, which Madonna attempted to try on before declaring it didn’t fit over her arms. Not a good start.
• At points throughout the fitting, all three children wandered in and out. Rocco was playful and fun. Lourdes was picking over the shoes the stylist had brought and when he said, “Pretty cool shoes, huh?” she shrugged and replied, “Yeah, they’re OK,” then turned and walked out.
• Baby David was carried in at one point and Madonna was very affectionate and playful with him. She put him on the floor and asked him, “Are you going to walk today?” before fixing him with a stern stare and pointing her finger and repeating, “ARE YOU GOING TO WALK TODAY?”
• As the stylist was leaving the house, he heard Madonna calling an assistant on the house phone. She said, “He fucking left the fucking rack of clothes in my room. Come and move this fucking rack out of my room.”
– Steven Corfe