I have to tell you that I have been in a lot of pain lately. I have lost my favourite pencil, again. Many of you may recall that I lost my favourite pencil a year or two ago, and the chaos that ensured around Paris while I searched for said pencil. I looked for my pencil, and the silence told me it was not there. I asked it to come back two times and there was silence for two times. As you know if you follow Karl Lagerfeld's Guide To Life, I try to promote an alternative lifestyle (that I used to call in French La Lagerfeld Diet), based on sensible tenets such as repetitive wearing of collars. My pencil's decision to disappear will be clearly be seen by conservative, pen-wielding types as a lead-based revenge against the sketches my pencil and I used to share. Right now- well- I can't even pretend to be a mess. I'm quite perfect. But, it is still distressing. I have hundreds of agents on the lookout for it, throughout Paris, right now. Perhaps I will go and take pictures of naked young men- that always cheers me up. Brad? No- wait- what's your name? You know, the new one. Italian, I think.
(Note to self: name all young male models the same name, as Yves did with bulldogs. Hard to remember names. Call them all concubine or something similar).