Agyness Deyn recently made the cover of Time Magazine. On Thursday she will be lauded as Tatler’s most stylish woman, pushing old Mossy into second place after two years holding on to the top spot. The Lancashire model has just had a mannequin modelled on her (creepy) and during London Fashion Week the biggest news was that the poor lass was suffering from conjunctivitis (weepy). Basically, what I’m trying to say is, without having to list any more of her ‘achievements’, that you cannot open a paper, magazine, your front door, without seeing her face or name peering back at you. In fact I loathe writing about her for this very reason, but she has been playing on my mind of late. You see, and I know I am not alone in this, (which incidentally makes this column even more infuriating in its unoriginality) but I am unconvinced by this whole Agyness Deyn phenomenon. What I find far more interesting than her, frankly one dimensional, look is the media hype that surrounds this youth. It appears that those that first brought Agyness to our attention have been keen to mythologise her, obsessed in creating a (comparatively lame) rag to riches story which by now we are all well aware of as it were always embedded in our subconscious along with tales of Dick Whittington and his cat. But, as with all those who experience rapid overexposure, which normally grips its victims like an aggressive rash spreading over the body, people are now beginning to strip Ms Deyn of her mythical status. However, it’s not much of a backlash. There’s a discrepancy over her real age (she once said she was 18, now people reckon she’s 25 if she’s a day) and it turns out she was spotted by a photographer in Kentish Town rather than being saved from a life of deep fat fryers in, excuse my language, The North. Not that she would ever have been consigned to such a life, God forbid. Agyness attended a grammar school and sat her A-Levels like a good girl should. Methinks it’s going to take a lot more for the industry to turn its back on this ‘face of a generation’ or whatever other over-hyped moniker she has been given of late, than slightly exaggerated biographical detail.
And this is, I believe, not because of Deyn’s abilities as a model but because of what she supposedly represents. Deyn has been given the responsibility of making London the epicentre of cool. As the face of British brand Burberry and lover of all things English, Deyn has brought back Cool Britannia, a label which hasn’t been applied to this island for possibly almost ten years. Deyn, in all her gangly glory, epitomises something exciting that is going on in the capital at the moment. Something that everyone, from readers of the London Lite to Vogue, wants a piece of. And this I can understand. Deyn looks like she’s having a good time with people who are doing interesting things, and no-one wants to feel like they’re missing out. Having Deyn endorse a product or appear on the pages of whatever magazine, lends that thing instant kudos. But why label her a supermodel? Yes she is thin and pretty, but that is, I fear, as far as it goes. Next to the versatility and longevity of a supermodel such as Kate Moss, Agyness Deyn’s capabilities pale in comparison. It seems as though the fashion industry, scared of looking tired and old, has grabbed a good looking and charming girl and confused her with something she is not.
