Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Couture: It's Not for Plebians. Part 1.

I'm in Paris camped out at the Hotel de Crillon with my European partner-in-crime, Contessa Emilia Aurelia Keith Rose von Aldenshtier (her father owns more Rothko's than you have hair follicles, just FYI) for the couture shows. Between her poking Andre Leon Tally's eye out with her giant Saint Laurent hat, me beating the crap out of a paparazzi with my Rick Owens boots, and us flicking lit cigarettes at Anna Della Russo (SHE WOULD NOT MOVE OUT OF OUR WAY) it's been a hoot and a half. I was a little upset when Karl chose Cara Delevigne instead of me to close the Chanel show but then he promised I could do it next time so I guess I'll survive.

The couture shows are the most important time of the fashion year because they reminds us that no matter how much you work for it you will probably never be able to afford anything you see here (I'm talking to the plebes when I say this) but that's the whole point of fashion: it's aspirational. It's also hyped up on a lot of narcotics, so I fit right in. That being said I've already placed my orders with all the ateliers; wanna see what I'm planning on buying? Note that most of these are dresses so I'm not buying them to wear, just to look at-sort of like a less creepy Hannibal I guess? My closet has been feeling a little drab lately so I needed something to decorate it with, and what better than $5,000,000.00 worth of silks and sequins? It was also a great opportunity to pick out gowns for my future bridesmaids, so there's something.

I loved this because it feels like an understated Bjork Oscar gown, and, really, what is chicer than that?

I didn't eat anything at Thanksgiving (or any other day, for that matter) but I did save the feathers from the turkey-which my brother killed with a bow & arrow-and look how nicely Valentino repurposed them!

If I was ever going to be in The Lion King on Broadway this is what I would wear. I don't give two shits what the costume designer has to say about it.

Elie Saab
 I love this for the better-late-than-never bride; you could be more knocked up than Kim Kardashian and still hide your baby weight.

 I would wear this like my friend George wears his 6-inch Louboutins: strictly in the privacy of my boudoir.

This is what my bridesmaids will wear if I get married in the woods, a gothic cathedral, or the basement of Marilyn Manson's house.

Maison Martin Margiela
 Don't you dare look me in the eyes, peasant, LOOK ME IN THE ARMS.

I'm buying one for each of my girlfriends for *that* time of the month. Mask included.

I have nothing to say. Nothing.

Alexis Mabille
 Is it a butterfly? Is it her abs? I don't care because she looks skinny.

 Picture this coat. Now picture is set on fire. CHIC.

Obsessed with this crotch ruffle.

Okay, Emilia and I have to go meet Valérie Trierweiler & Charlotte Rampling for tea at the Palais-Royale. I'll post the rest of my shopping spree later.

Bite me.


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