I awoke early to meet Scarlett Carlos Clarke for breakfast. I wanted to take her to the Chanel show this morning at the Grand Palais and Snowden Hill met us to do our hair at the Hotel Lotti, quickly whipping Scarlett into shape and turning her into petite Bardot and me into me. They have a delicious breakfast hidden away and so with heavy stomachs, wearing yet again my Emilia Wickstead dress with the white collar. I can see I need six of them. I was asked by French television what I was wearing. Immediately I said vintage Chanel with a new collar. Lies, but it got the cameras snapping. Then they asked me what song was entirely french, I said Je t'aime, which I thought was a good answer, anyway it would have to do.
Entering a magical burnt out forest where a space ship had landed. There were hot coals and mist on either side of a wooden path. Out came wearable clothes in various shades of charcoal, green and red. I wanted everything I love Karl's clothes. Beautifully styled and comfortable they were clothes for the slouchy life we all lead, warm comfortable with glamour. Gone was "the ladies who lunch look" it is now time for the burnt out forest warrior.
Hundreds of editors were there to watch the show from all over the world.
I then went for a coffee at the Ritz before going home to London for the opening of The Helmut Newton show at Hamiltons and the The Vanity Fair party given by Elizabeth Saltzman.
In between dashing about I have just replied to about 600 emails.
Entering a magical burnt out forest where a space ship had landed. There were hot coals and mist on either side of a wooden path. Out came wearable clothes in various shades of charcoal, green and red. I wanted everything I love Karl's clothes. Beautifully styled and comfortable they were clothes for the slouchy life we all lead, warm comfortable with glamour. Gone was "the ladies who lunch look" it is now time for the burnt out forest warrior.
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