In which I deem you worthy of hearing my thoughts

You know, I've been busy. I've been busy filming things like Magnum commercials, commercials for detergents, and commercials for washing machines. It is all quite a serious business! I designed the last few collections in my sleep, whilst planning out the Magnum commercial (why is she eating the Magnum? Who is she eating the Magnum? What is Magnum, when I fondle my jackets and observe the world for the imported room of no-decaying ice I had imported from Antartica?) I've come to the conclusion that Magnum is possibly more important that fashion in the world, right at this very moment. It is of the moment, hm? This clothing business is so- well, it is so overexposed, as the Californians say.

-Why do you bother wearing clothes? I asked my assistant

-How would I be fashionable without clothing? he said

-How would you be fashion without clothing? I corrected

-How would I be fashion without clothing? he said

-Fashion is inside where your heart used to be, I told him. Do you still have your heart?

He tried to look shocked at the mere suggestion that he still had his heart and hadn't sold it for a piece of couture, or a drink at a hip bar in Paris.

-Of course not! he said. How could I store fashion (he pointed to his heart) there, if I still had a heart?

-How would you still be alive, my dear boy? I said

-With...with the power of fashion? he said.

-Fashion does not power you, I said. Power fashions you.

-You are so wise! he said. I could hear his little heart ticking away at an accelerated pace. I could smell the blood pumping through it.

-Poland fashions you! I said

-Poland fashions me?

-Fashion you Poland! I said

The assistant looked confused. I had another assistant cut his heart out, with a silver pair of scissors designed by Tadao Ando. His little heart continued to beat as it sat on a silver platter with "Chanel" engraved on it.

-Oh, dear, I said

-Oh dearie me, said the other assistant

-His heart is far too red

-Far too fleshy, said the other assistant

-Far too...meaty said Cathy Horyn.

-Lost cause, said nobody in particular.

This is the thing with the Magnum. It is an object of beauty. It must not be consumed, of course. Does one consume a Van Gogh or a plate of caviar? Of course not. Both the painting and plate of caviar sit there to be admired, as a challenge.

"I must not eat the Van Gogh", a lady in her nightgown might say to herself, as she wanders off to be- tempted as she is to eat it.

The Magnum functions on the same level. It is to be place with the Van Gogh and the caviar, as a kind of democratic challenge to every person who passes it. The fattie will eat it right away, as will anybody who is uneducated. I do not mean in the sense of someone who has not been to university. I did not go to university, and I am the greatest person on this planet at the moment. I have met plenty of sniveling little youths who come to my door and plead for an internship.

-Oh, please Karl! This is the job a million girls would kill for! I have a degree in ethnoeuropean social sciences involving the chronology of western counterpoint, specifically in relation to how Russian composers effect Russia's economy!

What I mean by educated is dressing well. If one does not dress well, nobody will bother hiring you. Nobody will want to look at you, because you are an eyesore. And how can one deal with people if they are dressing terribly? Here is a good thesis, for all the students who read this web-blog: How does bad dressing effect a nation's economy? The answer, of course, is 42.

Notes from the Gilded Chairs

D: Darling, isn't this ... internet-thing fabulous?

K: Diana, dear- It's beyond, isn't it? Do you know that you are on The Google? My assistants tell me that being on The Google is all the rage- some sort of new hip studio space, I expect. That or a nightclub. K

D: You know, I went to a night club once, in the 80s. It was full of light in the most unexpected places. The youth in the room was palpable. I find youths gamey these days, their musk is occasionally so physically overwhelming I topple in the street. They were not always like that, not in my day, at any rate.

D: I almost got run over today and I thought - of course cars stop for me. They wouldn't dare run me over, I would burst their tires.

K: The 70s are made of orange, no? But not oranges- fruits are far more exotic- the colonies. Aren't the colonies divine? I wonder who ever thought up the idea. Here is a new idea- a Chanel Colony, like a giant boutique- a whole island of goods. After all, isn't shopping what the rich and bored like best? Buy a Chanel hut! A Chanel missionary's bible! A Chanel igloo! It would get my heart pounding, if I hadn't sold it to the fellow made out of tin. Russian oligarch, I believe.

Clothes in a Cold Climate

I suppose you all enjoyed the Chanel show. But many of you- including the journalists who I'm fielding now whilst telepathically writing this entry and transferring my thoughts to Enrnest in Ohio who'll write these down and post them on the blog- many of you are wondering why I did this collection.

I travelled to Antarctica last year, and the North Pole a few months before that. Anna quite enjoys clubbing all the animals there- not to mention the people who looked like animals. But nevermind that. The main thing that struck me was how demode everyone was dressing. It was impossible. And in the North Pole there's a man who calls himself "Santa Claus"- he wears red and is very overweight and has a beard. Frankly, he strikes me as some sort of pervert or homeless man. He lives there in his sleigh because the bank kicked him out because he couldn't pay his mortgage- poor guy. Beside him lives an executive from the 80s who carries around one of those giant mobile telephone devices- he lives in his Mercedes. These places exist out of time and space somewhat. But that's no excuse for demode dressing, hm? You must understand- I don't mean the normal sort of demode dressing- the kind one finds and Walmart and such. It's a special sort of demode.

The people in the picture above are a typical example of the bad dressing that goes on in these places. Just because one is in a very cold climate doesn't mean that one should dress like the Antartic equivilent of ex-Woodstock now-henchmen-for-a-bad-James-Bond-villian.

So, quite simply I thought something must be done. I consider it a favor to these poor people. The Chanel show was an instruction manual for dressing in a cold climate. It's not often I'm this charitable, but you know, I quite like the penguins- I get along well with them- and if I'm going to visit them again I'd hate for the humans to be dressed as in the picture above. It's unpleasant. People wonder why more people don't go on holiday to places like Antarctica. Yet when the inhabitants are dressing like that, who would want to visit Antarctica! Every day I get emails from people like Slim John Popeye and Dr. Faustus Pound- head of the Antarctica Tourism Board, asking why magazines I work with aren't shooting in Antarctica. And I always reply with "Because your people are dressed abhorrently. It is impossible."

Now- onto the next thing. A few of you commenters need to "step up your A-game" and start writing essays in my comments section longer than the posts themselves. Ideally you'll have names like "A.Cat.Lady" and "FDR De La Truffle". I am going to be conducting a search for these commenters, because it is not good enough simply to leave a comment like "LOVE YOUR BLOG! XO" and then link to your blog. Please email me your CVs at fakekarl@gmail.com.

Ideally, you'll either be an aging British aristocrat a or costume designer, an old lady who likes to garden and wears floral dresses, or something like that. I will revise your CVs and the qualified ones will make it into "Karl's Gang" (TM).

The Rich/Mrs. R G Razia

Carine and I were having a non-lunch the other day, at one of our favourite places to not eat- Quintette du Hot Club de France (they do a divine diet Coke). We were discussing the usual- J.D's death, Nabokov being dead for quite a bit longer and Lester Bangs continuing to write me stalkeresque letters from beyond the grave. Oh, and beheading people. It works quite well- it even works for the peasants! A kind of universal way of doing things, free of class- like Coca Cola. All beheadings are the same. The president of the United States of America can behead somebody, Elizabeth Taylor can behead somebody, a bum can behead somebody.

Anyway, about half an hour into our conversation, a woman named Regina G Razia came up to Carine. She's an old sort of socialite, the kind who looks like they're going to fall leopard skin pillbox hat-first into their grave. Every pore of her is filled with botox.

"OH MY GOD CARINE. ARE YOU WEARING PINK ON A TUESDAY?"

"..Excuse me?"

"I SAID: ARE YOU WEARING PINK ON A TUESDAY? IT'S PINK ON WEDNESDAYS, GOSH." "Well. I'm actually wearing black, but anyway.."

"I'M GOING TO WRITE ABOUT THIS IN MY MAGAZINE! THERE'LL BE A SCANDAL. A SCANDAL, I TELL YOU."

"Mrs. Razia, I don't believe you have a magazine."

"WELL...A BLOG" "A blog, hm?" I said.

"I JUST GOT ONE ON BLOGSPOT. IT'S ALREADY GOT TWENTY HITS. YOU'LL ALL SEE! YOU'LL RUE THE DAY YOU WORE PINK ON A TUESDAY! IT'S JUST SIMPLE ETIQUETTE."

"The rich. They're not like us" I said to Carine, as I blew my nose on my Hermès handkerchief.

Balmain Men's is Disgusting and Demode

Well, children, it's probably time I wrote a new entry or somesuch. I've been in New York City lately, but I do believe I've had enough- back to Paris, just as August ends. Collections and all that. I'm tempted to hold the Chanel show in a supplies closet this season, or maybe a cleaning cupboard. A very chic one, of course. All white and quilted- I just think it'd be amusing to see all these people try and force themselves into the cupboard. There'd be people on the ceiling and walls and so on- it'd be quite the sight! Although I dare say I could probably fit quite a few models in there. As I've said before, we actually ship our models in suitcases. (They're very nice suitcases of course, don't you worry about that.)

When I was in NY, the New York Times ended up mentioning me in a piece about finger puppets or something. You can find it here. You know, soon I'll be making a "press" section, like our good friend Scott, hm? I think the finger puppets idea is cute, but really, what would be better is a kind of fashion Muppet show. One can imagine it already: a couple of judges, say, Yves and I- a show where puppet Marc Jacobs is Miss Piggy, and Alber is Kermit (Alber has had rather more cakes that Alber, but he has the humility, no?) And on it goes- Jean Paul as Gonzo (or Galliano?), etc etc. And of course there'd be guests- Cathy Horyn singing and playing the saxophone, Suzy Menkes telling stories, Tom Ford telling the audience how to shave properly...it'd be delightful. Call it The Karl Lagerfeld Show, or something similar. Like Johnny Cash.

So I was actually talking about this idea with Miss. See Scheleyes, Miss. Mary, and a few others. It ended up turning into a radio show, because I remember turning the transistor radio when I was a little boy- turning the knob and sound coming out of that great edifice. Obviously, I'm not saying we should return to the past- I hate the past, I loath it- but I do think there's a certain value to radio. One can listen and still sketch. I suppose this counts as an accouncement of sorts, for The Karl Lagerfeld Show, a whenever-I-feel-like-it radio show featuring many guests and assorted music. It will be available here sooner rather than later.

I noticed that Balmain has made a collection for men today, since nobody went to their show in Paris. I'm convinced that one day- pretty soon- Balmain will put on a show and there'll be about 5 guests. They'll all be coked out of their minds, aging and looking like Nico post-1960.

Take note of those soul-crushing eyes. Anyway- this Balmain show I'm describing will be The Final Balmain Show Ever and there'll be 5 coked out 40 year olds, waiting to buy the same party dresses that the hobo who designs Balmain has been designing for the last 20 years. Anyway, this Balmain Men's...merchandise resembles the sort of clothes an anorexic plumber would wear. Anorexic plumbers are not very fashion.

Interview with Julia on the Couture Collection

Julia (Frakes) and I were seated together at dinner recently- actually, it was the dinner hosted by the Venus de Milo. Dinner parties hosted by statues are all the rage in Paris at the moment.
Anyway, it was after the couture show; after that interview with Cathy "Ohio" Horyn where she kept going "mm" every five seconds and laugh deeply, like a man. She reminds me a little of my father, who was about two hundred and sixy four when my mother gave birth to me. It was later in the night when I was talking to Julia- we were alone, because everybody else had either passed out or died (which is effectively passing out anyway, just for a tad longer.)

So Julia ended up interviewing me about the couture show, and the interview's been posted here, at the Paper magazine website, as per usual. I suggest you read it.

"Live Blogging", Chanel Couture

Whilst the rest of the world was weeping for Michael Jackson with their television sets tuned to one of the seven hundred and sixty eight channels that covered it, I and my seamstresses were putting the finishing touches on the Chanel couture. We don't have a television set. We were playing one of my ipods actually- Tom Waits. Cathy "Ohio" and her hag friend from Central St. Martins decided to visit us, so I had some assistants hide the sandwiches and pies- not to mention bacon muffins, whilst we entertained the two hags. They told us about the tent that they'd set up outside Paris in order to save on hotel costs- I muttered something about Brokeback mountain.

We just showed a few minutes ago, actually. So now I'm designing the next collection. The press is no doubt going to ask some questions about the collection I just showed- they're annoying like that. The hags are circling like birds in a Hitchcock film.

The World's Longest Dinner (or, be careful of your waitress at the Tate Modern, she just might be an EEL)

I just came back from the World's Longest Dinner Party. It lasted for 8 days. These things do- they're either very long or very short. I try and make them about 10 minutes, people are rarely interesting after that. But this dinner party ended up being...an interesting social experiment.

The party itself was one of those social events that involve food and people and people wearing clothes. There's also "small talk" at these social events- the conversation generally goes like:
Person one: Mutter mutter OH YES mutter.
Person two: Flatter flatter flatter DON'T YOU LOOK GOOD flatter.
And so on.

If Donatella, Coco bless her plastic soul, is involved in the party it will go something like this:
Person one: Honour honour flatter flatter ITALIAN FOOD flatter
Donatella: Mutter LOOK AT MY MEDUSA LIPS mutter mutter

Meanwhile, if Anna is involved in a the party conversation with her would sound something like this:
Person one: Fear idol fear loathing fear honour-to-meet-you fear.
Anna: Hello.
20 minutes later.
Anna: BLERGddhdDSHSSIEYRDnhcsjcfscnscjscDDJDAcfbsjfbafbsjfbsoaiddhdbJCJNJNCSCA.

Which is why Anna does not go to many parties. She really can enunciate tha many letters than fast. It's something of a party trick. By 2 hours later, Anna will have mistaken most of the guests for deer and start shooting them. It's all that time she's spent at my place in Vermont.

If I were to sum up the dinner party I went to mathematically, we could say that it was 80% "You DO look good" and so on, 5% Donatella and 7.5% Anna- the rest being the people Anna shot at the party, with a tiny dash of Tom Ford attempting to direct a movie with his Sony camera.

The press clippings from the party probably would read something like this:
"Anna Wintour shot 12 people at a party recently, held by the fabulous Mr. and Mrs. So and so. When interviewed by the police about the incident, she claims that she mistook several guests of the party as deer, and proceeded to shoot them as she would do on Karl Lagerfeld's Vermont property. The people were not eaten, and are now in the good care of graveyards. Chef to the stars, Mr. Somesuch, worries about the waste of food: "Well in this resseccion, you've gotta take everything you can for food. When I was a little boy growing up in Scotland, we had to eat food out of newspapers. Nay, we had to eat it off the ground! Nay, we had to eat it at sea level!
Meanwhile, Ms. Wintour has entered into a plea bargain with the police about the unfortunate incident. She will make gun safety commericals to screen in September- "a faaaabulous tie-in to the "September Issue", Large Editor of American Vogue, Andre Leon Talley said. Ms. Wintour also said that she did not intend on shooting anyone else, although she believes guns will be a big accessory in summer 09. More on this exciting accessory story as it happens."

Of course, that story will never be published because here at Chanel, we have a certain power over the elite. It isn't good publicity to have editors going around killing people, you know. Deer or not deer. The fabulous Mr. and Mrs. So and So ended up holding everyone hostage for 8 days, where there was much chit-chat that went around the lines of "prison uniform is SO not chic," and "flatter DON'T YOU LOOK GOOD," as the fabulously well-to-do guests were not so much air heads as helium heads, unaware that Mr. So and So were holding them hostage. Eventually, everyone signed the criminal equivalent of a post-nup (a post-shoot?) and they were allowed to leave, air-kissing everyone until the only things left to kiss were themselves, which they did with remarkable dexterity. And that was dinner.

Chanel Treehouse

Last night (or in the morning if you're that way inclined), I started directing my assistant to "tweet" to Madame Julia Frakes- I dictated, of course. We planned a Chanel treehouse- which will be white, and quilted. The following is a transcript from those "tweets." (Yes, Uncle is up-with-the-play! I am "tweeting" like the chic kids, hmm?).

fakekarl I'm going to build a Chanel treehouse, it will be white and have a quilted roof. Care to join me @bunnyBISOUS?
bunnyBISOUS@fakekarl Oh yes! Is Zaha Hadid consulting? Otherwise it may be couture quality- but topple faster than models in Miuccia's fall '09 heels!
fakekarl@bunnyBISOUS Yes, Zaha is consulting! It may have hot air balloons attached
bunnyBISOUS@fakekarl How incroyable- and so Uppity! What shall be the capacity? We must compile our guest lists! It will be nouveau Prada DoubleClub!

bunnyBISOUS@fakekarl What kind of vibe did you have in mind? Shall it be like your Paris bookstore & be our planned book club locale? Or more Regine-y?
fakekarl@bunnyBISOUS A capacity that's rather intimate- only a few of the chicest people in the world. Who will you invite?

fakekarl@bunnyBISOUS Oh, bookclub-ish. Music not so loud one can't speak! We will meet there for the bookclub, yes. And fly around the trees!
bunnyBISOUS@fakekarl Perhaps we can build it across rue from 50GP- v. private under lock&key in Gramercy Park tree. Maybe Ian Schrager can consult too?
fakekarl@bunnyBISOUS Yes! It can be just across from my place at Gramercy park...near you, too. Perfect.
bunnyBISOUS@fakekarl Sounds sublime! BTW, old but ADORE http://bit.ly/dOvUt. Now about that guest list... who do you think? Shall Brad man the ladder?
fakekarl@bunnyBISOUS Brad? Brad who? Brad is no more, but I can't remember the name of the new one. Hmph, the cut won't be invited! I am not one of
fakekarl@bunnyBISOUS these "hipsters", hmm? I am beyond. I'd like to invite my nieces, obviously, your cousin, Bob Dylan, Connie, Leonard Cohen..
fakekarl@bunnyBISOUS ..The usual. And who would you like to invite? Woody Allen? Larry David?
bunnyBISOUS@fakekarl Oh yes: @AskMrMickey, Sarah @coletteparis, Lynn Yaeger, Olivier @purplediary, @henryholland, @dreelovechild, @fiercegrandma...
bunnyBISOUS@fakekarl Who else? @leithclark, @jaxwheeler, @vfillolcordier, Luke & @MissKellyO, @karlie_kloss, @ITSJEREMYSCOTT, @MeenalMistry, @mwtsnx...
fakekarl@bunnyBISOUS Wonderful list. I can't wait for it to be built! Add @lavendrdisastr to the list too, as well as my daughter & @ArchiveSociety
bunnyBISOUS@fakekarl & now on to circumventing silly red tape compliments of the Trustees of Gramercy Park! In the meantime, shall we daydream details?
fakekarl@bunnyBISOUS Mmhm. Where to start? Which books? Colours, lights, interiors?
bunnyBISOUS@fakekarl The phrase "building castles in the air" seems especially ad rem. Or rather-"treehouses". Ideas on lighting, furniture, DJs, food?
fakekarl@bunnyBISOUS chairs, tables? food (that place you frequent- one lucky duck?) (not that I eat)

bunnyBISOUS@fakekarl Oh yes! @PureFoodandWine is only 1 block away! Plus they cater http://bit.ly/7a0jJ >parties. Hm,anyone have inspiration proposals?
fakekarl@bunnyBISOUS Maybe some candles, hm? Maybe Zaha could design furniture? Live bands as well as as DJs- DJ Rei?

bunnyBISOUS@fakekarl Rei CdG! Or perhaps @AndrewAndrew, @THEMISSHAPES, @samantharonson, @alexa_chung, @STAGEMOMZ, @MikeNouveau, @HarleyJustice can DJ?

fakekarl@bunnyBISOUS Yes, Rei CdG! And Yohji has his band, if he's not shy. And all those you mentioned..I might even do some rapping!

fakekarl@bunnyBISOUS Heh, treehouses in the air indeed (now I'm thinking of Le Mis..Castle, clouds). Warm lighting- which designer?
bunnyBISOUS@fakekarl I forget who designed this fixture in my bedroom, but it seems especially apt for treehouse? http://yfrog.com/5koh9j
fakekarl@bunnyBISOUS It's rather brilliant, isn't it? Could have vines running throughout the treehouse; on all the lamps and lights, hm?
bunnyBISOUS@fakekarl Achitecturewise, a few notions: http://bit.ly/xuOqG Which do you prefer? I like Kobayashi & Duke North.! Feider & Sybarite= very Zaha
fakekarl@bunnyBISOUS I'm quite taken by Kobayashi! It's very natural. How about art for the walls and such?

bunnyBISOUS@fakekarl Hm... if Ian is consulting, perhaps in keeping with GPH? Schnabel, Warhol, Basquiat, Hirst, Richard Prince, Haring, Klee, Rothko?

fakekarl@bunnyBISOUS Mm, also Richard Colman. Hm..what other details?

bunnyBISOUS@fakekarl Colman, for sure! Perhaps Picasso too? Should we have an "executive committee" of members? A co-op of your contributors, perhaps?

fakekarl@bunnyBISOUS Mm, Picasso too. Throw some Klimt in there too. An executive committee; wonderful- I have Rei on the phone now
fakekarl@bunnyBISOUS And furniture! Suggestions? Comfy, not modern, yet not old. Hm
bunnyBISOUS@fakekarl Furniture – well the hotel has lots of Martin Baas http://bit.ly/14eJS7 – but as treehouse, added antiques + John Derian curios?
fakekarl@bunnyBISOUS We'll go antique shopping once you're back in NY (in London now?), yes?
bunnyBISOUS@fakekarl Sounds like a plan. Thankfully – and exceedingly conveniently – ABC http://bit.ly/sm26p is literally one block away!

fakekarl@bunnyBISOUS Rei bangs her gong. And how perfect about ABC! We can just float over there, powered by hot air (balloons)!

bunnyBISOUS@fakekarl J'adore! This pie in the sky pipedream of amazing magnitude is ever more stupefying! Let's keep rolling – who shall man ladder?
fakekarl@bunnyBISOUS Hmmm, man ladder- Baptiste? http://bit.ly/2YdmZs Who for maitre d'?
bunnyBISOUS@fakekarl I forgot about Maitre d'! Perhaps Abbe Diaz?
bunnyBISOUS@fakekarl Divine! I just realized- how will people climb into the treehouse w/ their Viviers & such? Heels can cause quite a ladder palaver!
fakekarl@bunnyBISOUS Yes, fantastic. A doorman? Who for doorman? He must be able to wear Austrian doorman's jackets convincingly
fakekarl@bunnyBISOUS Maybe they will need to swing on a rope-Tarzan style to get to the treehouse.
fakekarl@bunnyBISOUS Or if they're wearing THOSE Prada shoes, they'll already be at the treehouse!

bunnyBISOUS@fakekarl Oh golly– the dreaded S/S '09rs! http://bit.ly/fPN4l Apropos of nothing, I think we've seriously confused followers w/ treehouse!
fakekarl@bunnyBISOUS Heels will soon be designed by architects of skyscrapers; come reinforced with steel. and yes, we have. how chic!

bunnyBISOUS@fakekarl My fave architectural YSL Eiffel Tower heels may do the trick in that dept.! (not veg - a gift) http://yfrog.com/5epnoj
fakekarl@bunnyBISOUS You'll have to wear those to the first treehouse bookclub meeting! Which bands to play?
bunnyBISOUS@fakekarl Perhaps Baptiste can swing w/ patrons? Along way we can snap their photos together (like a roller coaster pic)? What photographer?
fakekarl@bunnyBISOUS The bookclub rollarcoaster! Nick Knight?
bunnyBISOUS@fakekarl Brill! Or in keeping with treehouse aesthetic, perhaps Tim Walker or Wendy Bevan? Though Daniel Jackson is a ball to shoot w/!
bunnyBISOUS@fakekarl Although since this is a club, Mark (Cobrasnake)? If I were a more dishonorable bunny, I'd suggest bribing patrons w/ bad photos
fakekarl@bunnyBISOUS Have all four photographers! Position them at different parts of the treehouse, like a crack security squad, hm?
fakekarl@bunnyBISOUS Golly Coco, why not 10 photographers? Mark included. And patrons' bad photos will go into top-secret files, for.....security,no?
bunnyBISOUS@fakekarl Oh yes! And perhaps we can eventually make a book of said photos (when it dies down) like http://bit.ly/MJN8T?
fakekarl@bunnyBISOUS A book and maybe even an exhibition, mm? Have a resident artist sketching away in the treehouse

fakekarl@bunnyBISOUS Which bands to play?

bunnyBISOUS@fakekarl Lissy Trullie http://bit.ly/17RzVq or Citizens Band could be a ball! Or my BFF @rachelantonoff's brother Jack's band @steeltrain!

About that Carine Woman

Many people have asked me: "Karl, why do you dislike that French woman?"
They mean Carine Roitfeld, of course.

It all stems from this one incident where I walk walking outside my Paris apartment, quite (dare I say it?) content. Well. As content as I can be. I wasn't yelling at anyone anyway and that's an improvement. I was walking there, surrounded by only 20 or so people- not a big entourage. The Roitfeld woman comes up behind me, and tickles me. I let out a Germanic laugh- "HA! HA! HA!", like that. Imagine Kraftwerk. It's not a real laugh, hmm? It's more automatic than that. It's more automatic than these publicist people who cower around show rooms and seem to think that you want to whip them. They're a very automatic sort of people. They utter loud strings of laughter, like a machine gun. But no, my laughter was less made-to-order and more couture. I'm getting off-topic. The main point is that I do not like to be touched. At all. So when this woman comes up behind me, and inserts her hands down my side as if she's some sort of robot that's had it's wired crossed- well- I just reacted how any sane person would. I did Karl-Fu.

I did Menacing Glance first. All I do (silly me, I was about to dictate "all you do" in there when I remember you're not me! I'm actually making this journal accessible to the public! How strange. Obviously you could never do Menacing Glance, unless your name is Humbert Humber-Humer Humberdick the 1st. If that happens to be your name, I am not quite sure what you're doing because you're dead.)

The French woman reacts to Menacing Glace with a wince away. Her black fingernails actually come out, like those of a cat. It was not very effective.

So I try Bish Please, a move I perfected when I was a rap-artiste back in the 60's. It requires a puckering of the lips, something that not just anyone can do. It's a very specific sort of pucker. You must have the right cheekbones to do it. The right skin. The right sunglasses. This move was super-effective. She recoiled in horror.

What was poor Karl to do? Here I was, attacking a vicious cat-lady, and she was not knocked out yet. So I grabbed an umbrella, and drew a the Chanel logo in the clouds. A perfect logo. At this cat-lady is stunned, and falls to the ground. The jacket she wears, perched above her shoulders, falls apart. It's Balmain.

I'm Perfect

I was just thinking to myself about how much better Christ would've been if he wore couture. I mean, if I was around in those times, I could've done something about it! We've got some draping going on, of course- very Madame Vionnet. Hippy hair. It's all very nice, hm? But wouldn't he look better with a haircut and a nice Tom Ford suit? Think about it for a second. Seriously. He would've been immensely more chic, hmm?

You know, I don't design much menswear- it's boring and I prefer females anyway- at least socially. I think I could design some clothes for this Jesus fellow, though. He is pretty important after all. He'd look better in skinny jeans. Maybe give him a record deal- Jesus and the Stoners (everybody must get stoned, hmm?).
And of course, if I was born back...in the times before demode even existed, I could introduce Chanel no. 5. It would be more important than farming because everybody would smell good. In fact, if I was born around the time of Jesus, I suppose I would've became Jesus, given my god-like powers. Dressing well is better than being a good person, anyway. I know celebrities. Does Jesus know celebrities? Can he design clothes? No, I don't think he can. All he can do is these magic tricks- water into wine (wine contains calories anyway, and we can blame this little magic trick for Anna's, uh, alcohol problem). Magic tricks are demode. Of course, if I was born then the religion of Chanel would be a great deal older!

Alas, it seems being chic was not important then. Alas, it seems I was not born then. Alas, it seems magic tricks were all the rage then.

Actually, when I was little my mother (Coco bless her little cold clockwork heart) took me to this fortune-teller. Dior's fortune teller. Dior being the fat man that ate too much Italian food (not the current faux-Frenchie who hasn't designed anything new since 1999.) So my mother took me to this man, and he told me I was going to be a priest. My mother- my parents- could not have that! Those nuns that taught them at school were terrible people. Crazy people. Demode. So I became a priest of fashion instead. The priest, but anyway. My mother used to make fun of me, though. She said "Karl, you could've been God with a capital gee!" and I said "Well, I am God of Fashion." She would reply with "That's okay, but where are the lightening bolts?" She was very Greek, that woman. I'd tell her that it was all about love and compassion these days: "The craze in religion now is love, Mother!" I would say. She would slap me.

Rushing off to Chanel..

One is not born woman, but becomes one- Simone de Beauvoir. But how does one become a woman? The answer, my reader, is Chanel. One becomes a woman with Chanel.
This poses a couple more questions though- how much Chanel must you buy before you are a woman? And what if a baby has multitudes of Chanel- le Chanel baby- are they a woman, hmm?

I will not give you some hogwash about the answer being, say...blowin' in the wind. I do not go in for this sort of vague politically correct namby-pamby-wishy-washy-my-mother-didn't-breast-feed-me rubbish. It's very simple: get a measuring tape out and measure yourselves. If you're a woman, it will obviously say "woman" on the measuring tape. If you are 165 CM, it will say "165 CM" on the measuring tape and that is what you are: one hundred and sixty five centermeters. If you are a terrible person, it will say so. And so on it goes. Then you will know your place.

Today I have Frida somebodyorrather coming to see my show at Chanel. I was only aware of this yesterday, when she turned up at my studio. I asked her who she was and she said she was the woman from "Slumdog Millionaire", and invited her to come on in. She didn't look homeless or anything. I thought the people in "Slumdog Millionaire" were poor? She was wearing a Chanel jacket- and it wasn't fake. I inspected the stitching itself- licked it, whispered to it in my sensual voice that no jacket can resist. It's a real pity animated characters can't attend fashion shows- I would love Coraline to attend tomorrow's show.

Saw Cathy at the studio today, too- I was relieved to see she didn't eat anything this time! She seemed hungover from that hack Alaia's place last night. Anna was there too. She's upset about that fellow at that place. Nina Ricci? I gave up the 80's in the 80's. Dynasty does not screen in the cinema of my mind.

I suppose I'll see you all at the show anyway. Tea at Colette afterwards.

I have outdone myself

It is not often when I say to myself; "My, my Karl, you are a genius, hmm?"; but my latest collection-- the Chanel couture collection, well. It's simply brilliant, no? I've already got more that 500 emails in my inbox telling me how genius it is, but I thought I'd just dictate to an assistant to write a blog post about how great I am.

So anyway. That's that collection. Onto the next one, hmm? If you read as fast as me, the paragraph above probably took you about 5 seconds to read. 5 seconds wasted! Because it is the past! Of course, if you're like me you probably went back in time and reclaimed those 5 seconds doing something useful-- like designing a collection, or something.

There's an interview with me about the collection that I did with Julia, and I'll link to that when it's up. Again; the collection's in the past. I no longer remember it, as of now. Anna may amputate the past with use of large amounts of vodka; I can just do it.

Above is a picture of a flower at the Chanel show, which I have now forgotten. However, the flowers were made by sushi chefs from Japan, who studied in the hills for a decade cutting grass into flowers and painting them with brushes as thin as a strand of DNA, creating the illusion of a flowered hill. I may post more pictures from the show I've already forgotten (what show?) later, hmm?

This is what the demode ones are not getting

The sole point of this post is to make those who're attending the Chanel show superior; and that's just fine. Obviously, the idea is for readers (who are probably invited), to show this post to their demode friends from lookbook, various clubs, etc etc. If you could photograph their jealous expressions and send them in, that'd be great, hmm?

New Chanel Assistant Designer

You know, it's very boring how the fashion industry is so old and so intellectual. Those 18 year old girls, so old. So I think that the girl below will be the new Chanel spokesmodel. In fact, the next Chanel show will use only children of her age. And I'm going to make her assistant designer at Chanel. (I know some of you will've seen this girl, but indulge me, hmm? She is the assistant Chanel designer now, after all). Isn't it great knowing your Chanel bag was approved by a toddler? This child is the only child Anna actually likes as well. I'm amazed she didn't eat Bee. She's a little overweight, anyway.

Once upon a time... from Capucha on Vimeo.

Chanel Jacket

I asked an assistant to transcribe the following conversation:
Karl: "Hello dear Chanel jacket, it is I, Karl. Do you remember me?"
Chanel jacket: "..."
Karl: "Oh yes, don't you like it when I run my fingers down your fabric like this?"
"..."
"Mm, and when I place my teeth that haven't seen food in over 20 years onto your collar. Your oh-so-delicate collar that I designed myself"
"..."
"Coco only did the armholes, hmm? Anyway...she's gone now."
"..."
"And then I'll rip apart your well sewn fabric and ravish you."
"..."
"Listen. I have a great idea. A genius idea. As typical of a genius such as I. Can't you tell? I have a pulled back pony-tail. That's genius, no?"
"..."
"What I'm going to do is make Kurt Cobain the new face of Chanel."
"...?"
"Yes, I know he's dead. So is Yves!"
Yves: "Karl?? Is that you?"
Karl: "Oh...Hi....hello.....dear Yves. How are things, hmm? I'm just discussing expressionist German cinema."
Yves: "You were seducing the jacket again."
Karl: "..."
Yves: "You know, this pretending-to-be-dead-thing isn't so great. I'm not invited to many parties anymore."
Karl: "You never went to parties anyway."
Yves: "But it was nice to get the invite which I could decline: "Monsieur Saint Laurent regrets to decline your invitation."
Karl: I just turn up and they act like they invited me: "Ohhh! Hello Karl darhling! How are you? Can we get you a diet coke? We just adored your last collection....which one? Why, the one you did in Paris....Which one in Paris?...[awkward silence]......aren't they all fabulous!"

Anna is alive.

Hello adoring public.  I am back at my desk after a weeklong sabbatical, spent in Karl's new closet.  The Chanel sofa in there is very comfortable.

Anyway, one of my assistants told me that there were photographers all over my stand-in at Fashion Week.  With telephoto lenses and such.

Obviously, I am not using her again.  You might say she almost looked...  mortal.  How demode.

I am, of course, perfect.  Immortal people never wrinkle.

I fired everyone involved.  It felt good - I haven't fired anyone in a week.  That's a new record.  The longest time had been six days, after I fired the assistant that runs between the Art Department and my office.  You see, the idiot tripped on my new Chanel rug and beautiful half-finished pages of Vogue flew everywhere.  Vogue is not permitted to touch the ground or any unclean surface.  I was simply doing my duty as protector of the realm of Vogue.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to tell an assistant go to Hermès and buy 500 white scarves.  I use them to blot my lipstick.

Reply to Vidal, NZ, and Chanel

Vidal- Anna is loyal. Look at the Chanel tattoo on her back. She would not dare to defy me. Some of my enemies read this blog, and they know how my revenge tastes.
I think she would be out of a job- she works at that magazine place- if she jumped ship to Prada. Of course, Anna will write a post confirming her loyalty to me soon. Won't you Anna (Yes you will).

I love all you readers. Maybe. Well, I love some of you, hmm? I'd love you more if you gave me plane tickets and tickets to the NY fashion week shows. My collar is ready, hm?

Especially the New Zealanders. How chic. Karen Walker scares me, though, hmm? She came to the Chanel HQ once and looked out of place so we had to remove her. We do this to anyone who does not fit into the Chanel look, hmmm? We have a human-forklift. To remove humans, of course. Not made out of humans. No, that would be boring. Plenty of other houses already do that.
We use quilted metal.

I will not die, hmmm?

Some of you are sitting in your closets, wondering "what will happen when Karl dies?"
I am immortal, hmm? I cannot die. Does Santa Claus die? I don't think so. So this is what they at Chanel say when they say "it is all taken care of".
They mean in 100 years, yours truly is going to be still designing Chanel, hmm?

Now- to the post I linked to at the "now". Because the "now" is where I always am.
Cathy says:
"Part of the appeal of the Wertheimer brothers is that they’re so private. I see Alain Wertheimer from time to time up at Chanel—usually after most of the editors have cleared out of Karl’s studio—and you can ask him almost anything, except about Chanel. Horses, no problem. But he doesn’t discuss Chanel and of course he doesn’t discuss Lagerfeld."
The truth is this: the Wertheimer's don't exist. They are played by actors. Clever of Karl, no?
They're English actors who can do a good accent, actually. That's why they know about horseracing. But not about Chanel.
I've said all this before, of course. I own Chanel. But you know this. Cathy knows this.
I do not know what she is doing fooling her readers like this, hmm?

Here she gets it right:
..."and I really prefer not to think of the fashion world without Lagerfeld. It won’t be the same when he decides to call it a day—not as fun, not as intelligent, not as historic-minded. In an era of multibrands and luxury conglomerates, just think what this one family has done to preserve not merely a business but also a way of working."

Good girl.

And then she gives us a recipe for pie and we will just not think about this, hmm? Excuse me, I think I need to vomit.

Oh, and Anna really is perfect. I love you....uuhhh...umm...what is the word?....babe. How bourgeois.

Excuse me, I shall wash my mouth out.

Very good. That's sorted.

ps. I work best in black and white, hm?

"The Dark Knight"

I do not usually compliment the bourgeois "films" that you people-- you dirty, dirty people see at the cinema. My tastes move in higher circles, hmm?
I will make an exception for "The Dark Knight". A film about a man called the Joker and there's a few other people in it as well. What was Michael Caine doing there? He just sort of was there acting like a butler or something. Now children, children of the dirty filthy un-Chanel clad streets, I know Michael Caine and he is not a butler. It is a well known fact that Batman is actually Christopher Kane (the so-called "designer" of that little London company. Blueberry or something). So they got those two facts wrong.

But in the Joker-- well, in the Joker I find a highly likable man, a man of class, a man who I would gladly share my diet Coke with. Can we hire someone like that for Chanel? Does anyone know? Hopefully this won't go pear-shaped like the Oompa Loompa fiasco..

Anna darling, you got it wrong with the whole "Superheroes" theme for that little ball the New York people have. (Why wasn't Andy there? Oh. He's dead, right. I wonder who was breathing down my phone the other day then. Maybe nobody rung me up in the first place. Did any of you ring me yesterday? Any stalkers in the audience?). Anyway. The little New York ball held in honour of the tanned Italian man.
What Anna should really have done is the whole "Anti-hero" thing. Which is what fashion is about really, hmmm? That's the point. To show how much better you are than them, whoever they are. Most of those people who don't want to be part of "them" are "them" anyway, because nobody wants to be part of "them" but "them" needs somebody or else it is a huge cosmic joke. Anyway, somebody needs to buy the Chanel paper clips.

So we know what a collection in the near future- maybe the Karl Lagerfeld one this season will be like, hmmmmmm? With Chanel, I already have a theme in mind, but I guess one can always move around things here and there because I'm Karl Lagerfeld.
Well actually, half the Chanel things are made already. Anna will buy them. She buys everything.

But I might re-do Chanel, hmm? The whole "V" phase is demode now. V for Vendetta, more like, hmm?

On second thoughts, maybe "V" is not so demode. We'll see. I can see Brad, myself. If you like Anna, I'll see you later tonight. Sniffing Coffee beans at 5 AM in your closest? Very chic.