



Ewan McGregor in costume/continuity polaroids for Trainspotting (1996).
Costume design by Rachel Fleming.
Curt Wild, founder of the influential garage band The Rats, came from the aluminium trailer parks of Michigan—where rock folklore claims far more primitive origins. According to legend, when Curt was 13, he was discovered by his mother in the family loo at the “service” of his older brother, and promptly shipped off for 18 months of electric shock treatment. The doctors guaranteed the treatment would fry the fairy clean out of him… but all it did was make him bonkers every time he heard electric guitar.
Ewan McGregor in Velvet Goldmine (1998)
“The world is changed because you are made of ivory and gold. The curves of your lips rewrite history.”
Velvet Goldmine (1998)
I needn’t mention how essential dreaming is to the character of the rock star.
Velvet Goldmine (1998), directed by Todd Haynes

Ewan McGregor is one of the most extraordinary people you could ever meet; but what is startling about him is his delightful, dumbfounding ordinariness. His freakish normality. Richard E Grant noticed it when he worked with him on The Serpent’s Kiss. He called Ewan ‘astonishingly grounded considering the career tornado around him, it’s amazing his head doesn’t turn around 360 degrees’. A (non-famous) friend of mine who appears with Ewan in his latest film, Todd Haynes’s Velvet Goldmine, says: ‘Ewan’s just not like a celebrity. You don’t feel like you have to be witty or interesting all the time when you’re with him.’
Certainly, I’ve never interviewed anyone like him. When you interview famous people, there is an unspoken hierarchy: the star is more important than you. Obviously. […] Interviews with famous people are not conversations between equals. […] But Ewan McGregor meets you on absolutely level terms. He doesn’t travel with an entourage, he’s not shepherded by PRs. He doesn’t flirt, he doesn’t show off, he isn’t cool (he loved Oasis’s third LP when the world was backlashing). He lacks a single smidgen of the expensive sheen that usually lacquers over the successful.
Man is least himself when he talks in his own person… Give him a mask and he’ll tell you the truth.
Velvet Goldmine (1998) dir. Todd Haynes