Leigh Bowery lived on the 11th floor of Farrell House, a block of Stepney council flats often referred to as Feral House, where I first visited him in 1987-ish. "Would you care to join me in a digestive biscuit?" he enquired, standing 6ft 6in a spectacular sequined costume covering all but his eyes, mouth and nostrils.

"Nicola – get digestives," he ordered his friend/slave/sewing assistant, seemingly happy to play a Madge Allsop to his Dame Edna. He'd call her "the fag hag", sometimes "the poor cow". Dry biscuits, Leigh explained, were the safest things to nibble on when dressed to the nines. Or wholemeal bread, semi-toasted. These he bought on trips to the local Sainsbury's, enjoying the anger/confusion it stirred in youths on the estate. "But usually I'll eat in the nude," he noted.

Prior to becoming "the most eccentric dresser in London", Leigh's first job was working the night shift at Burger King on the Strand, where he was judged trainee manager material, then caught fiddling the till. His dream was to relocate to Paris – to Burger King on the Champs-Elysées.

"Some weeks I'm really poor, living on brown rice and parsley," he told me. "But a cheque will come soon and I'll be all right."

Leigh changed into leopardskin, then ordered Nicola to fetch a cherry pie from the kitchen, even though he was probably saving it for a special nude occasion.

Food and clothing coupled harmoniously during a visit from his mother. After encouraging her to make her "best meringues", Leigh completed a "look" by gluing them to his cranium – something Lady Gaga won't be emulating until at least 2013.