I was sent a link from a girl named "Rose" today. The link was to the blog of a certain Imelda, who I hadn't heard of until seeing the link (handed to me on quilted paper), and the entry was something that attempted to be "Satirical" with a capital es. Something about foetuses as fashionistas, etc etc- obviously making fun of my niece Tavi and her recent Pop cover (by the way, I'm in there too- introducing some "youth bloggers"- I suggest you buy the issue. I shall post more on this later.) For whatever reason, this Imelda doesn't like Tavi much at all: "This Rodarte/Tavi shit is insanity. WTF…I mean cool, she loves fashion but in my opinion courting the ‘opinion’ of a 13 year old girl seems desperate."
First of all, Imelda's "foetus blogger", who I won't link to here- she doesn't need the publicity- used the word "demode." Demode is my word. Everybody knows that. It's more than copyrighted- it's like the word "Jesus" or "god" or "Buddha", it just simply is mine, as much as my high collar is mine, or as much as the badges and broaches which I attach to my ties are mine. In fact- more so than those items. It's as much a part of my family as my dear mother is. It is my word, and frankly- anyone else using it is simply rude. Does anybody see Proust using it? No, because I faxed Proust and he removed all mentions of the word in his books and letters. Does T.S Eliot use it? Non, because I telegraphed him and he removed every mention of it from his poems and so on, too. Nobody in France uses the word anymore, except I. They have respect for it, because they're quite aware that I design Chanel, and as far as the outside world is concerned, France is baguettes, Chanel and the Eiffel tower. Besides that, Chanel owns France. I simply allow Dior and so on to exist because it makes Chanel look better anyway.
It is my godforCoco word, and nobody else may use it without express written permission from I, Karl Otto Lagerfeld.
Anyway- I believe I was pointing out how demode this Imelda person is. She seems to think simply because a person is 13 that their opinion is not valid. I find the opinion of children more interesting than many adults a lot of the time. I think the content of the opinion is more important than the age of the opinion-giver, hm? For all I care, Tavi could be a 40 year old fat man that plays harmonica on youtube. Or she could be a two year old. Or even- yes, a foetus. It makes no difference to me. (By the way, I know Tavi in person, considering she's my niece and all- she really is a 13 year old, but even Imelda knows that now- although she didn't a short while ago:
"I'm not a hater but she's a total fake and since I was introduced to her blog I've 'called this' else where at other times."
I sense a jealous blogger, hm? And worse than that- I sense mediocrity.
Do you know what else I sense? I sense a tiger hunt. The scheme with the hunters is going well- they get into life threatening situations with animals, they kill the animal in self defence, we kill them- the animal that is, haw haw. Lately I've been enjoying doing these myself, mainly to annoy PETA and all those other "animal rights" groups. I say to the "animal rights people", "why don't the animals front your animal rights group?" and they say "well, animals can't talk" and I reply "nor can the mute, yet many of them get along fine. Besides, animals do talk- you're just not listening." So I put on my safari hat, my muscles rip out of their starched white surface. Tom Ford comes along with me. We're going to make a movie about it- a kind of sequel to Lagerfeld Confidential- but more exciting. Imagine me talking about sex whilst riding the back of a tiger. Imagine me endorsing prostitutes whilst hanging from treetops. It'll be beyond.
I'm a cat sort of person, myself. My favourite person in the world has a cat, and I talk to it quite often. Even on the phone. I thought about buying a tiger for a while, but I thought it'd be a bit too Las Vegas. And I don't intend to have an Elvis period anytime soon.