I remember buying my first car, a Mini, and getting it spray-painted purple to match my Mary Quant outfit. As a generation we learned to grasp life
MODEL JILL KENNINGTON
these big fat eye colour pencils — and that was us. She was so clever and picked up on all the silly little trends we were using.
We used to meet up with The Beatles and the Rolling Stones in clubs. A friend dated Keith Richards. We all got on, whatever background we came from.
It was the era of the Pill. When I hear all these terrible MeToo stories coming out now, I think we had people coming onto us the whole time but we just used to laugh it off.
I modelled for Richard Avedon, Norman Parkinson and Terence Donovan, but carried on doing catwalk shows for Mary. I had my first son the same time as Mary had her son, Orlando. We had the same gynaecologist and the boys were born in the same hospital.
After I left modelling, I began doing up people’s houses. I’m fascinated by colour. Once you’ve been a model and looked after yourself, you can’t let it go. I never leave the house without make-up.
I’m horrified by the price of clothes here. Today, I shop at markets in Spain and at Zara’s sister brand, Lefties. I rarely talk about my past but my granddaughter, who’s 12, thinks it’s quite cool that granny was a model.
I ESCAPED OVER THE CONVENT WALL
Hazel CollinS modelled for Mary Quant from 1970-1977. She lives in london with her husband, Bill, a property developer. BY THE time I became a model, mini skirts were part of society. At school, we’d roll up our waistbands when no one was looking.
Mary discovered me when she came to give a talk at my convent school. I was 14 and very shy. It took her ages to convince me that modelling was respectable — and that model wasn’t another name for hooker!
I came from a straight-laced family who wanted me to become a doctor or lawyer, but I sneaked out by climbing over the convent wall (the whole dorm was in on it).
Mary’s husband, Alexander, picked me up in his Rolls-Royce and took me to their country house. I was shot by Terry O’Neill.
After that, I kept being booked by Mary. She adored me and I adored her. We were very much a family unit. When Mary launched her make-up range in 1971, I went to New York with her.
She always asked our opinions. I remember once being shown a see-through top. I said: ‘No way am I putting that on’, so Mary took it out of the collection. Simple as that.
They were very protective of me — worse than my parents in a way. They would tell me dreadful stories about photographers and the fashion industry. In hindsight I think they were making sure I modelled only for them.
Mary was a revolutionary. She launched the freedom movement. She gave women the confidence to love themselves and their bodies. Why be all demure and sweet? Do what you want!
I never thought of myself as a model. It was never about money or ego. For me, the most important person was Mary — she was our mentor. We got a complete education in how to behave and not be too full of ourselves.
We didn’t realise we were the pretty people! We weren’t at all like the girls now. Today, fashion seem so mucky and corporate — it’s all about how many millions models can make in a second.
But Mary and Alexander took us into this new world. Vidal Sassoon cut our hair, we did shows at the Ritz. For every collection we’d go down the Kings Road in a Mary Quant bus. Every newspaper, magazine and TV show wanted Mary. It was so exciting.
I retired in 2003 to take care of my mother, but all of us Mary girls are still in touch. We meet up and phone. We got to work with a genius — we were so blessed.
HOW I INSPIRED MARY’S MAKE-UP
Clare Hunt modelled for Mary Quant from 1971-1978. She lives in london and is married to ronnie Stirling, co-founder of Sixties fashion company, Stirling Cooper. I gREW up in Cheshire and made all my own clothes, but I knew I had to get to London. I was a big fan of Mary Quant before I even met her. I remember my sister bought a black silk jersey top with cut-away armholes and we both wore that for years.
All the underwear then was so old-fashioned, but Mary’s was wonderful, so modern. It was like a breath of fresh air, light and free, with her daisy logo. I bought mine from Kendals in Manchester.
I arrived in London in 1971 and joined Askew model agency, where I secured a weekly advance so I could be part of a flat share in Kensington. I was all set to go.
Soon I was working with Mary and Vidal Sassoon. Mary was such fun to work for and so free-thinking. You did things for love and enthusiasm then — the money wasn’t important.
I wasn’t part of Mary’s initial Sixties geometric wave. I came along when her licensing deals for shoes, tights and jewellery were taking off. I remember when she got a spectacle licence, we all got free sunglasses.
Once, I went to see Mary for a fitting wearing my Twenties look: black coat, fox fur, dark eyeshadow to which I had added a slick of Vaseline to make my lids shine.
Mary noticed straight away, ‘What’s that on your eyelids? It looks great.’ Next thing, there’s a ‘wet look’ in her make-up line. She was totally on the ball.
Mary was quite shy. She slightly hid behind her fringe and spoke in quick, short sentences as ideas poured out of her.
Her husband, Alexander, had a mischievous sense of humour, but he was a gentleman and was so supportive of Mary.
I met my husband, Ronnie, when I went to his wholesale showroom for samples for a modelling assignment in Australia. Ronnie had one of the most successful fashion companies of the era, Stirling Cooper. All the models went there for their clothes.
Later, I became a fashion photographer, did interior and garden design, and now I’ve moved on to portrait sculpture — but I still love fashion.
tHe Mary Quant exhibition is at the Victoria & albert Museum, london, from april 6 to February 16, 2020; vam.ac.uk