There is an impossible tension before the Chanel show, as if it was there and nowhere else that the show-business, the star-system and the crazyness of fashion cristallised. Hundreds of onlookers gather in front of the Grand Palais, you get shouted on by super-nervous security guards, and inside, each celebrity has its own troup of photographers shouting their names like it was a photocall.

That’s how I sat down, two seconds before the show, in a crazy state of tension, totally shaking.

The music started immediately. It was a remixed version (by Michel Gaubert) of A Forest, by The Cure. I soon felt better : The Cure is one of my favorite (if not my favorite) band in the world.

At last I could contemplate the decor.

Huge and beautifully dark, the winter forest that Karl imagined really took my breath away. It reminded me that every six months, Chanel makes the most marvellous, inspiring and poetic sets.*

They leave fashion shows to the other brands and create ephemeral monuments.

I loved the casting and the clothes, and even if I never wear black I would really see myself in the looks I selected…

Then it was the finale and Karl arrived amongst the gang of models, with on his face this sweet “brave dog” smile, as he calls it, that he hates, but that I see more and more often on his face.

As for me, I was back to being perfectly calm.


* I am in the process of getting the name of the geniuses who work with Karl on the sets.

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