Bill Cunningham has left to portrait Heavens’ Style
It was always reassuring seeing his almost-working class blue jacket appear from behind a corner, opposite to the direction of the fashion people, or nimbly come in the crowd on the same colour’s bicycle, seeing his smile thank for the pose, his slim figure sit on the front row always grabbing the inseparable camera, or bend gracefully in the correct position to shoot men and women wrapped in fashion: you knew you were in the right place!
I never had a chance to really talk to him, he always looked so absorbed in his mission of capturing style in its thickening spots, the fashion shows, like the old fisherman so busy and quietly excited on his small boat over a shoal of fish, not wanting to miss a single one till his vessel is full.
But on the final day of last March’s Paris prét-à-porter week, when I stood up to exit the metro car at my station and saw him sitting on the opposite bench, he greeted me so unexpectedly warmly and like willing to start a conversation… impossible as the doors were opening already…
I like to remember it as his farewell.