As a teacher in a fashion institution, you have the privilege of getting to know students that are destined for greater things - you were one of those Elie. I remember the first time I noticed you, gliding along the corridor at Lime Grove campus, in a 60s knitted poncho, a pair of flared jeans, your shaved head adorned with large hoop earrings. You looked amazing, like you had just arrived from Woodstock. Even your physique matched the aesthetic of the 60s. The next time I encountered you, this time in class, you looked like someone from a Robert Mapplethorpe image, netted top, black, leather pants and cap. I asked you if you liked the photography of Robert Mapplethorpe but you didn’t know who he was. This was the beauty of you Elie, your sense of style was innate, it was part of you. You may not have known these references, but you absorbed information and reinterpreted them into something unique. Dress for you was not about following trends – it was an expression of how you felt, not bound by rules around gender, but inspired by an array of things and your curiosity for cultures, history, life. You were a true chameleon, humble in nature but able to constantly change your colours, in such a spectacular way. You were you more than just style though – you had many bows to your string – a performer, a model, a poet, a dancer. But beyond these incredible talents you were simply a caring, empathetic person, who educated us all to be more open and accepting. You didn’t need to have a gang of admirers who trailed behind in awe of you. You were a true individual, who mixed with everyone and never judged anyone. You were always looking for justice in everything. I feel honoured to have taught you for the last 3 years and will never forget the wonderful conversations we had – you were always full of surprises. It’s so sad that I never got to see you fulfil your dreams or walk across the Royal Festival Hall stage at graduation in some incredible outfit. I was really looking forward to meeting your mum at graduation, who you said looked like you, and telling her in person what a wonderful child she had raised.
As a teacher in a fashion institution, you have the privilege of getting to know students that are destined for greater things - you were one of those Elie. I remember the first time I noticed you, gliding along the corridor at Lime Grove campus, in a 60s knitted poncho, a pair of flared jeans, your shaved head adorned with large hoop earrings. You looked amazing, like you had just arrived from Woodstock. Even your physique matched the aesthetic of the 60s. The next time I encountered you, this time in class, you looked like someone from a Robert Mapplethorpe image, netted top, black, leather pants and cap. I asked you if you liked the photography of Robert Mapplethorpe but you didn’t know who he was. This was the beauty of you Elie, your sense of style was innate, it was part of you. You may not have known these references, but you absorbed information and reinterpreted them into something unique. Dress for you was not about following trends – it was an expression of how you felt, not bound by rules around gender, but inspired by an array of things and your curiosity for cultures, history, life. You were a true chameleon, humble in nature but able to constantly change your colours, in such a spectacular way. You were you more than just style though – you had many bows to your string – a performer, a model, a poet, a dancer. But beyond these incredible talents you were simply a caring, empathetic person, who educated us all to be more open and accepting. You didn’t need to have a gang of admirers who trailed behind in awe of you. You were a true individual, who mixed with everyone and never judged anyone. You were always looking for justice in everything. I feel honoured to have taught you for the last 3 years and will never forget the wonderful conversations we had – you were always full of surprises. It’s so sad that I never got to see you fulfil your dreams or walk across the Royal Festival Hall stage at graduation in some incredible outfit. I was really looking forward to meeting your mum at graduation, who you said looked like you, and telling her in person what a wonderful child she had raised.
