Courtney Love on Birkins and Sex

Courtney Love talks Marc Jacobs, Kurt Cobain, drugs and haute couture.

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Love’s stylist and friend Panos Yiapanis is another factor that facilitated her fashion renaissance. She calls their friendship a “major, major love story” and said that meeting Yiapanis in 2006 changed her life. “I’m really loyal. We’re married on Facebook,” Love says, apparently the measure of a good friendship these days.

She laments the time she went to Paris in 2006 (pre-Yiapanis) and was only invited to two fashion shows, Stella McCartney and Yves Saint Laurent. “There was even a fracas about me sitting in the front row at Stella,” she recalls. But all that changed when she met Yiapanis, and within a season she was getting invited to everything.

“What he did for me is unbelievable, that he went out on a limb for me. Riccardo [Tisci] had just come to Givenchy, and he was the first Italian to run a house, and Panos convinced him to meet me, and I met Riccardo. He’s so warm.” Love went to Givenchy’s couture show the following year, dressed from head to toe in the designer.

Regarding the first row, Love is quick to inject sex into the equation, eager to share some new information she’s learned. “Someone from Lagerfeld’s camp told me that some of the front-row ladies wearing all the kooky stuff don’t get laid. She said that if you want to get laid once in a while, then you better stop wearing the kook. I realized she was right,” Love says, because there is no way she is going to give that up. “The whole time I had hair extensions, I was dry as a bone. It [sex] is like a good meal and fine wine. It has to be done.”

Love made an exception to her new fashion rules this past February, though, when she admits she was “all kooked out” while attending Roberto Cavalli’s fall 2010 show with friend Daphne Guinness.

Continuing on the kooky theme and never one to hold back (“It just doesn’t always come out like Princess Grace and I’m sorry”), Love feigns her distaste at the overwhelming selection of Marni in stock at Jeffrey in New York City, because, in her view, it works against having sex. “I am against Marni, and I’m sure the lady who designs it is very nice, but I’m not a Marni wearer,” she says. Another label you won’t see Love sporting any time soon is Armani Privé. “I’m not really a Privé girl, and it got back to [Giorgio] Armani that I said that, and now he thinks I hate him.”

Then there is her growing knowledge of the nuances of New York City’s zip-code system. “Whether we’re hanging out in Malibu or Milan, I now get the difference between 10012 and 10021,” she says of Guinness teaching her the distinction between the downtown neighborhood of SoHo and the Upper East Side. Love blames her naïveté about the zip codes on being a West Coast native, but the self-inflicted chick-lit bender she’s been on has also helped her distinguish between the two. (Going off on a tangent, she deems chick-lit as “anything that drops a lot of names and takes place in New York, Los Angeles or London and is thinly veiled. I ran into a thinly veiled me the other day. And there’s lots of Patrick McMullan in these books, too.” Her most recent literary conquests are “Four Blondes,” “Arm Candy,” “Bergdorf Blondes” and “Daddy’s Girls.”)

As the rock star continues to discuss Guinness and her love of all things couture, she mentions the well-documented friendship between the heiress and Alexander McQueen, and says she was devastated by the designer’s shocking death. Love met McQueen only once and sat with Miuccia Prada at his funeral.

“We were at a dinner party, and it was a discussion at the table about the best rehabs in America. We talked about Promises. If you want to know which rehab to go to, ask me,” Love says of her encounter with McQueen. “I’m the Condé Nast Traveler guide to rehabs.”

Love has been sober since 2005 and has rededicated herself to her music and band. She just wrapped up a U.S. tour promoting the album “Nobody’s Daughter,” which came out in April, and she plans to head to Japan in August. Most of the contents on her blog thus far are comprised of her tour wardrobe, which is naturally full of Rick Owens, Givenchy tuxedo jackets, thigh-high boots from Ann Demeulemeester (“They’re incredibly utilitarian for what I’m doing”), Alexander Wang, Manolo Blahnik tap shoes, Azzedine Alaïa and lots of Wolford tights (“Do you remember the Nineties, when I would wear stockings with runs? Now when it has a run, it goes. If I ran Wolford it would be a more exciting world.”)

Then Love, who “likes the adventure of finding my own style,” goes on to detail her latest retail acquisition, an Emilio Pucci dress from a boutique on Michigan Avenue, which she also happened to wear the previous night onstage. “So it maybe has a little Ice Capades thing going on, but it’s beautiful. And I wore Balmain for a bit, but I’m a little over the fake-rock thing. No offense, because what the hell do I know?” Other recent purchases include a crocodile Prada bag, three colorblock Celine dresses and an army green Yves Saint Laurent bag.

“I’m wearing Rick right now. I perform in Rick, I sleep in Rick and I jog in Rick. I have, like, eight pairs of his harem pants. I’ve been running in Rick Owens for years,” says Love. “I have all of my old Rick — no one touches it.”


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