Amber D, M.A.C Senior Artist, and Lorde in the M.A.C store in Britomart. Picture / Rene Vaile
God, Lorde's great, isn't she? I've been a little bit in love with her ever since she said she knows she's a "spreadsheet with hair" to record executives.
Great line, and what hair it is. Like a mermaid's. My mother used to say I could have lovely long hair if
only I'd leave it alone. I didn't. Lorde is cleverer than me in this respect, as well as many others. It's not only that she's obviously talented and naturally funny. She's also been smart enough, and brave enough, to take the biggest risk of all: that of being herself while becoming a superstar. She's a teenager who wrote songs about how boring it is to be a teenager in Devonport, and then danced like a T-Rex on Letterman while she sang them.
Off-stage, the moves have been as memorable. She called out a paparazzo on Twitter, and consistently refuses to be objectified in photoshoots. She has firm ideas about how much of her people are entitled to see and this is reflected in her clothing, mostly. I've seen her in a crop top recently, but that's about the extent of it. In general, she tends towards full-coverage and leaves the see-through to RiRi and the rest of them.
Her dresses are jaw-droppingly dramatic affairs, by the likes of McQueen, Balenciaga, and Zambesi.
Not that she can't deploy white to good effect when she feels like it. She may be the single best proponent of monochrome among her generation. The medieval hair and those dark silhouettes sometimes make her look like she should be in Game of Thrones or The Tudors, which is about as ringing an endorsement of her style choices as can be offered. She will not be seen in assless chaps in our lifetime. I love the quiet certainty with which I can write this.
