Vivienne Westwood, folded into an armchair, refuses to make eye contact with the camera. “It’s so boring,” she complains of her own punk past. The Sex Pistols? “No, can’t be bothered with them either.” But Westwood’s blunt candour – she peppers her conversation with sweary invective – and mardy demeanour suit her just as well as her slightly batty outfits. A gloriously eccentric one-off and a fashion original, she is an entertaining subject for this watchable documentary. And if it tiptoes around certain themes – she is not pressed on the contradictions between her eco-activism and the wastefulness of the fashion industry – the film still offers a glimpse into the controlled chaos of her creativity and her opinions on everything from hem lengths to capitalism to her third husband and collaborator Andreas Kronthaler. “I like living with him as much as I like living on my own,” is Westwood’s ringing endorsement.