It’s not the vertiginous heels that I can’t keep my eyes off, nor the super-mafioso shades, not even the see-through catsuit. It’s that little growth from her forehead. There’s only one on show today. It could be a horn, a cancer, an embryonic phallus. It could be, as she likes us to think, a physical manifestation of her creative genius. And it could, of course, be prosthetic implant as fashion accessory.