All hail queen Viv

If Vivienne Westwood was French, she'd be lauded like Yves Saint Laurent. If she was Italian, she'd be worshipped like Giorgio Armani. But Vivienne Westwood is British, and so she is treated like EastEnders' Nana Moon, patronised on daytime TV and mocked for meeting the queen wearing a fig leaf. No matter that she is one of the most influential designers working in the world today: let's all have a laugh at the silly lady.

But Vivienne is having the last laugh. In an industry dominated by corporate luxury goods houses and endless games of designer musical chairs, it's she who remains sole owner of her company, with a thriving business and a string of profitable stores all over the world. And today, an exhibition that finally recognises her extraordinary influence on fashion opens at the V&A. Featuring more than 150 designs, the exhibition spans Westwood's 34-year career and is a must-see for anyone who ever wore a corset, owned a Sex Pistols album or simply loves clothes.

John Lydon may have sold out by appearing on a reality TV gameshow but, at 63, Westwood is still keeping the punk spirit alive. I meet her beneath the famous clock that used to hang outside her shop at World's End but now opens the exhibition. Two silver devil's horns nestle in her flame-orange hair, while a union jack dress adorns her body. She is still a fox, her soft Derbyshire accent somehow at odds with her shiny exterior.

"I've only just heard about John Lydon, and it was from a taxi driver," says Westwood. "This taxi driver was talking about Jordan at the same time, and I'd never heard of this bloody Jordan until then. I don't follow the tabloids, I don't follow these things.

So I don't know what he was doing on this programme, honestly. I've never seen one episode of it. They're supposed to eat worms or something."

It is slightly surreal explaining the intricacies of I'm A Celebrity ... Get Me Out of Here! to a woman who once dressed its most infamous contestant when he was in The Sex Pistols, but Westwood listens courteously.

The last time I saw John Lydon, he punched me," she says, "was a very long time ago. We were at a party, and they had stopped letting people in. Johnny was downstairs, and I went to see what I could do, and the first thing that happened is that he punched me in the eye. I had a really terrible black eye. And the worst of it was that people held me - I wanted to hit him back but I couldn't. I still owe him a black eye, that's all I know."

This is all delivered with good humour, possibly because a few punches between good friends was normal in the punk years. But we are here to talk about the clothes, not the colourful Seventies, and so we walk round the exhibition with Westwood explaining her cutting and printing techniques with all the diligence of a university lecturer. "Well, it's all just really, really gorgeous," she says, gesturing expansively. "I just think one after the other they're all so brilliant.

I keep falling in love with them all over again. I just think, 'OOOOH'."

Unusually for a designer, Westwood incessantly credits other people's input. Her husband, Andreas Kronthaler, designed much of 1994's Cafe Society collection ("Andreas did that from beginning to end, I don't even quite know how it works. He does as much as I do, but he doesn't want anyone to know it"). Her husband's father made 1993's seven-inch metal heels on his forge in the Tyrol. A man called Pearl made the corsets, a woman called Prudence made the hats and Malcolm McLaren was responsible for putting the bra on top of the T-shirt in 1981 ("he was brilliant at that kind of final touch").

After decades of being ripped off by the high street and other designers (her pirate boots, corsets, conical bras, tube skirts, spiral cutting and mini-crinis have all cropped up on other catwalks over the years), it's great to see Westwood finally getting the recognition she deserves. Not one to be coy about her triumphs, she says: "I know that what I do is extremely special, and that I have a very big talent.

"Because I own my own business, my particular experience in fashion has always allowed me to be in control of what I'm doing. And I know that I do things that would never have existed if I hadn't existed, because nobody else would have had the brain to do them."

Westwood is quintessentially British in all but her lack of modesty. But she is right to big herself up.

As her exhibition proves, no other living designer has such breadth and influence. In today's homogenised fashion landscape, her independent spirit is more valuable than ever.