Those Day pictures, which appeared in The Face in 1990, were groundbreaking: Moss was either naked or dressed in simple, nondescript clothing, which meant that the photos were about her more than any trend. From her first major photo shoot with the late British photographer Corinne Day, Moss was, as the designer John Galliano described her, “a little rough diamond…there was that magic, an enigma, there in front of us.” Her image (which can morph from waif to vixen to polished to bohemian and back again) and her personal style (which is high-low eclectic and has been widely copied by designers and mere mortals alike) have made her the most sought-after muse of our time. If you have had even the slightest interest in fashion in the past three decades, you have been in Moss’s world. “I remember that,” Moss said repeatedly, almost to herself. It was a history of fashion photography and, naturally, contained many pictures of her. She waited patiently for the photographers to arrive, paging through a glossy book that had been left on a table. Nearly everyone walking in and out of the room had the same reaction, but Moss was oblivious to the attention. She was dressed unremarkably, in dark jeans and a gray sweater, but the cook, who was making eggs to order, stopped and stared. Especially for photo shoots.” She shrugged off her cocoon-like faux fur and settled into a couch in the upstairs area of the studio that doubles as a cafeteria. “People always expect me to be late,” she told me. It was a chilly Tuesday in London, and although the British Fashion Awards gala had taken place the night before and Moss had been at an afterparty until at least 2 a.m., she was ready to work. “Where is everybody?” she wondered aloud, as she walked into the studio at 9 a.m.

Mango maddy