by Roddy Lumsden .


By now, the shoot is on to its sixth outfit. My latest poem looks back to the first outfit of both days, a piece from Scots designer Christopher Kane’s latest show which incorporated denim, chiffon and snake prints, a part-elegant, part-louche look which was part-inspired by the films Carrie and Crocodile Dundee. A best of early Kinks was playing during the shoot. I’m about to make recordings of my earlier pieces, and hopefully you will hear Kate reading one of them as part of the finished Showstudio project.

To the End of the Day

Christopher, we have made a not quite prom scene,
gathered Kate Moss in your dress,
the ankle-length, the ruffled one the colour
of coffee ice cream, the not quite wild side one
from the dodge side of your lazy hours –
drained shades of workwear, comfort flicks, bush duds –

and there she struts and leans on a quayside piling,
strung from chains, in the top-note
of the wind machine, nod-and-nudge raunch,
which half-drowns Quaife thumbing his bass
on ‘Stop Your Sobbing’, ‘Set Me Free’, a dress
to keep the chiffon mills of Italy thudding for seasons,

to pin the Polaroid wall with a dozen shots, a midnight
quarrel of attitudes, never in character,
the sum of distances from Dalston and Addiscombe,
Motherwell and Muswell Hill, the not quite Christmas
weather hanging out on the side roads of NW10,
a dress of froth and strap, the milky tea dress, that dress.