Daphne Guinness: Isabella Blow Auction And Why I Stopped It

The story begins on the morning of May 7, 2007, when I was woken in New York City at 4am by a telephone call from Alexander [Lee] McQueen. I had been dreading, but half-expecting, this call for quite some time. Issie was dead, he said. She had poisoned herself. It was an awful death, an agony that lasted for two days. I don't think either of us stopped crying for the full hour and a half of our conversation. Lee had seen her just the week before and he was so grateful for having had that time with her; I had, for various reasons, been regularly uprooted from London, and the last time I saw Issie was a fleeting visit before Christmas, though we had spoken in the weeks afterwards and she had seemed more positive about life. Still, I will regret not having seen her during this time for the rest of my days.

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