Babies

Since the last couture show- in which I showed not a single black piece. I was quite proud of myself, you know. Anyway, it's proved to be quite a hit with the public, and I've been inundated with requests for the silver tights I showed. Yesterday morning I woke up to find 35 babies, all dressed in quilted white jumpsuits at my doorstep. On each of them was a note: "In payment for one pair of silver tights" (or something similar). In essence, these babies were being sacrificed for Chanel. Understandable. People have tried to do this before- I've had beautiful young virgins delivered upon my desk, unicorns, first borns- that sort of thing. Who wouldn't want to sacrifice their child upon the alter of Chanel?

Yet what am I to do with 35 babies? I have no use for your children, mothers. What am I going to do? Eat them? Please- that would be cannibalism, which I believe is illegal in France and frowned upon by society. Anyway, what's more important than that is that eating a child would mean eating quite a few calories- they're very fattening, I'm told.

It's the same problem with the young beautiful virgins- they're very nice to look at, but they can't model, can't sew, and obviously eating them is rather fattening too. They're useless! I ended up throwing them back into the cliched fantasy world from which they came.

So. I suppose this is a personal appeal from I, Karl Lagerfeld: Please do not send me your babies, sacrificing humans is very last century- actually, it's even before that. It's simply not within the now. It's not modern. Nor is your first born (too Jesus Christ Superstar- fashion is not a musical!), your unicorn, your cat, your beautiful young virgin, et al. Your wallets will do just fine. Money never goes out of style. Last week I passed by a student communist party- from one of the universities, I suppose. They were selling food to fundraise for their revolution. The anarchists next door were doing the same. There was even a line for the anarchist's food-stand.

"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.