Vivienne Westwood was the Queen of Punk Rock and her fashions have scandalized and fascinated the world since the Sixties.

G-strings, fake fur knickers, satin codpieces, bustles. These are the staples of a die-hard Vivienne Westwood wardrobe. The biographical details of Britain's leading fashion iconoclast read like a history of late twentieth century counter-culture. Ever since she joined forces with Malcom McLaren in 1971 (a collaboration that lasted 13 years), Vivienne Westwood has been firmly ensconced in the cultural avant-garde. Her S & M- flavoured clothing, Zoot suits, and slogan t-shirts and ripped-up pirate wear defined the look of two major movements in the 70s and early 80s: punk rock and the New Romantics. Vivienne Westwood began showing in Paris in 1982, the first British designer to do so since Mary Quant. The "Buffalo Collection" which featured industrial-strength bras atop sweaters, ample skirts and tattered sheepskin capes, paid tribute to the women of Peru. Since then, she has brought us pelvis-skimming micro-chrinoline skirts, razored clothes from her "Cut & Slash" collection, clashing tartan and check knitwear and is presently in a lofty Scarlett O'Hara phase replete with the above-mentioned bustles, hour-glass figure, and netted petticoats. Vivienne Westwood was a teacher before she became a self-taught fashion designer and her clothes reflect her fondness for history and learning. Each collection is widespread with subtext and cross-references, which the audience (and buyer) may be forgiven for not catching. Westwood’s cosseted woman in girdles and stays and bustiers and whalebone, teetering out on nine-inch platforms, could be seen as an ironic comment on female sexuality. The cut and slash look, inspired by medieval warriors returning home from battle, is a tongue-in-cheek poke at contemporary rich kids in cut-up Levis. In 1989, John Fairchild, editor of the authoritative fashion journal, Women's Wear Daily, proclaimed Westwood to be one of the six top designers in the world. But her sumptuous and sly new collection calls to mind yippie-turned-yuppie Jerry Rubin's words: "Why offend with style when I can offend with actions?" And in this age where everything seems already to have been done, mutilated, metamorphosed, discarded, and then brought back into style, it remains to be seen whether Westwood will lose the edge that made her famous, or go on to redefine once and for all our notions of rebellion.