Another Bore

Anna chimed in at the party last nigh with the suggestion that I should dress as a superhero at the Costume Institute Ball this year. (She never tends to stay longer than 15 minutes. Not because she is busy- that's an excuse. What happens is she starts drinking one glass of wine then another then another then another.....you get the drift, yes? Her lips become loose. She starts acting human).
I said "but I am a superhero, hm? There's no Superman or Batman now, only me."
At this Donatella started screaming in that horrible voice of hers, "Nooooooo! I AM A SUPERHERO! I AM WONDER-WOMAN!". (Feel sorry for her staff who have to listen to this all day). She then ran round the room pretending to fly and eventually crashed into a wall.

Oh, Donatella.

Anna was still giggling away 5 hours later, when everyone had gone home (I was taking photos. I do like to take photos of the young people.) She was sitting there by herself, in a chair, at a table.
Giggling. "I'm a SUPPPER HERO!..........Supper hero!........SUPPER!!!....TO RESCUE........TO THE RESCUE".
This is why she doesn't like parties.

Overall the party was a bore.

Hold that thought

Miley Cyrus? What was I thinking? She is far too nice.
Maybe in a few years. Doesn't her father play country music? How demode. Country music should be played on silent.

I'm currently at a party writing notes on napkins and getting my butler to give them to my assistant who types my notes up on this blog. Hence short entries. I don't apologize.

Anna is calling me. She reminds me of my Mother. Wearing that dress that looks like Christmas ornaments. They jingle. Half tempted to tell her that it's not Christmas yet.

Hmm, Miley Cyrus?

I read this in one of the newspapers I read daily today.
I don't see the problem with a shot of her back, but I do love controversy, hmm?

So: I am going to contact Miley to be the new face of Chanel. Her and Courtney Love's daughter (Frances is it? I only met her a week ago but I love her), for Chanel. What a match, huh?

Still need to fit Amy Winehouse somewhere into it.

Louis Vuitton sends in the lawyers

This morning (I never go out of the house in the mornings, it bores me), I was disrupted by a knock on my door. This is bad in itself- knocks on the door are not very Chanel. It could only be an unfashionable person. One of the ugly ones.
They were lawyers.

Dressed head to toe in Louis Vuitton they probably thought they were the yaks knees, as my Mother used to say in the old days (the bad old days). They looked like supermarket bags.

As soon as they enter my drawing room I say, "I am sorry, but I do not wish to buy a used car".
They said: "ahh, we're not used car salesmen. We are from Louis Vuitton, the premier luxury goods maker". "Is this a Louis Vuitton I haven't heard of? " I say. They continue: "We are sure you have heard of us, Karl". They wait for me to reply.

I "um" and "ahhhhh", eventually staring into space. For 30 minutes I do this.
(This usually scares them off, and they make an excuse to leave. Not these ones).

"It's about a blog you wrote about us, Karl".
"Hmm?"
"on April the 26th you wrote on your blog..." (here I cut them off) "please get to the point hm? Your story is boring me".
They stutter.
I take off my Dior homme sunglasses and give them the death stare.
"Gents, I do not have much time to spare, hmmm? Please use the servant's entrance next time."

Lawyers should be only seen and heard in courthouses, hm?

Hello, I am Nickolas, Karl's assistant for his iPods.
Karl sends his love, but is too busy for you creatures today.

Defaced me

PETA threw this poster at me today. It's a photo of some billboard in Paris that was defaced.

I think red rather suits me, don't you?

Maybe I will have this poster used in the next show, hmm? I can write on it: "from my friends at PETA".

Love, Karl

Louis Vuitton

Louis Vuitton is tacky, hmm?
I see awful fatties carrying around Louis Vuitton bags on the streets, and people who obviously can't afford Chanel trying to see fake Louis Vuitton on the sidewalks.
There goes the fatties, I think as they walk past me (and supress my vommit). There's a few fatties in the fashion industry too, you know. At least they're intelligent. But these fatties who are walking past me are stupid fatties because they think that buying a bag that says "LV" makes them fabulous. It's actually become a joke for us designers, hm? Whenever we see someone with a Vuitton bag we have to supress a snicker.

Louis Vuitton is fashion McDonalds, non?

Even Marc Jacobs- the man responsible for these bags at Vuitton laughs at his customers behind their backs. Well. When I say "responsible" I mean he draws a colour, fabric, and pattern randomly out of a hat. It's a very nice hat, mind you. This is the Marc Jacobs for Louis Vuitton design process at work. He calls it the "sorting hat".

So here is the lesson: Do not come in with a Louis Vuitton bag to a Chanel store (I have instructed security to bounce anyone who tries to), a Fendi store, or anywhere near me.

Love, Karl

ps. the image is by Nadia Plesner. I just told one of my assistants to set up a meeting with her. More on this as it develops.

Anna

As I said before, I had a diet Pepsi. Normally I will have Diet Coke but I had drunken all that.
I was most displeased. I had my chef order in a few crates of Coke afterwards. (I think one should always have one or two chefs around, it's much easier than having to eat out and smell food. My own chef concocts the most interesting variations on the paste I eat. I don't eat anything else. Eating is a habit to be avoided, hm?)

I am quite liking this blogging thing, because it means I can broadcast my thoughts without having to go out of my house. I hate going places. There's all these commoners. I hate the commoners, they are so dirty, hmm? And they try to touch me with their sticky germy fingers. Horrible.

I had Anna (Wintour) visit me today whilst I was taking photographs. She is like the Queen Bee of fashion, no? (Lindsay once made me watch a film of hers, "Mean Girls". Anna is like Regina George from that film. Apart from she doesn't get much sex, poor girl). She's always dealing- today she was telling me that I should look at some American designer to be head designer at Chanel when I die.
I told Anna that I am not going to die and that this American designer who I'm not going to name cannot design. She tried to slap me then, Anna is not used to being snubbed. I've heard stories about her slapping Marc Jacobs, John Galliano, Phillip Lim. The designers have nightmares about her. But I am the real Queen Bee in fashion.

Anna's been for the last half hour trying to apologize. I think she learnt a lesson, hmmmm?

Love, Karl

Back

Today one of my assistants informed me that Google had shut down this blog because their "spam search" or something thought this was a "spam blog".
He went on to say that "spam" is like the fatties, and should not be tolerated.

So I told him to sort it out and get me a glass of Diet Pepsi.

He sorted it out, but the Pepsi was not good enough so I poured it on him.
So fear not, hmm? I am back.

Phones

I hate phones. Andy Warhol loved them- he used to ring me up at 5 AM and just breath into the mouthpiece. This would go on for hours, and eventually I would just put the phone down on my table and let him continue. Eventually he would fall asleep and a coked out assistant would hang up.

Sometimes he'd pretend to be a salesman and say "would you like to buy my vacuum cleaner". That's all he said. Then I might indulge him and say "why yes, I would like to buy a vacuum cleaner. How much do they cost?".
But he wouldn't say anymore as if he was an actor with stagefright who couldn't remember his next line. Then I would say "Andy, I am tired of this nonsense, I am hanging up". He just continued breathing.

He's dead now.

Occasionally when I am in New York I get rung up on my telephone by salesmen who have somehow found out my number (this never happens in Paris because I cut the phone line). I say to them: "my vacuum is in disarray over my bird, hmm?". They say "we can offer you great life insurance, for only..." (I thought this opening move would confuse them, now I am convinced that they don't actually speak English; only know how to say a few lines and recognise the word "yes"). At this point I cut them off: "my house is trapped in a tree, chic, non?"
They continue: "for only 995 per year! This is a really great offer ma'm*".
I then will put the phone down and let them continue talking. The longest someone talked for was 3 hours. I pity the man who wrote the script they read off.

Anyway, these phones affect my work. One cannot sketch when a phone is ringing. I presume those that use phones as their main form of communication are too ugly to speak to me in person. So it is a blessing in disguise, hmmm?


*I fear this "insurance" script is targeted towards vulnerable old ladies. Which I am not, hm?

I Am

I woke up this morning from a dream I’d had:
I was at a dreadful party with dreadful people who should not be allowed to wear Chanel (it should be only for Chic people only, non? I hate it when the fatties wear my clothes. The uglies are even worse*
And there I was, obviously bored, being chatted up by some creature. She was telling me I should get a “blog”. I thought this was a fabulous idea because I could teach the people who visit this “internet” how to be proper human beings.

Of course I’m not actually typing this out on a computer (I had my Mac G5 melted down into more rings, is much more useful, hmm?), but writing it out with my favourite pencil (one must have a favourite pencil) on specially monogrammed “KL” paper. Then I told an assistant to type it out and put it on the internet.

Now I must leave you. Because, unlike you, I have things to do.

*Speaking of, have you ever seen this American TV show, “Ugly Betty”? I should hope that you haven’t, as it is a hideous programme which pretends that there’s a place in fashion for ugly and fat people. There isn’t. So if you are reading my “blog” and you are either of those things, I advise you to close your browser now and never come back. Thankyou.

Love, Karl.