I am not exactly what one might call "neutral" about Chanel head designer Karl Lagerfeld. Ever since the magical afternoon in Paris in the spring of aught four, when I found myself in line behind Herr Lagerfeld at Colette (a temple of non-essential goods, e.g. Comme des Garcons iPod cases), I haven't been able to so much as hear the name without performing an involuntary squeak of glee, not to mention that I'm the founder and president of the Karl Lagerfeld Deification Project - an obscure Facebook group that I'm scandalized to report has not found the kind of momentum I anticipated. Quel surprise! Suffice it to say, I dig the man. What I don't dig is this:
The whole Chanel Spring 2008 couture show is like this. The models look victimized, like Chanel has been taken over by an evil race of ugly clothing that's forcing them to walk down the runway or else they're being sent back to Eastern Europe. Why else would Karl perform such ghastly feats of sartorial untightness? For one, there are strange things afoot around the midsections of both outfits, which one is forced to forget only because of the living, breathing neckline creatures further north. All in all, I'm very concerned for the safety of the girls, and not just because they've only had half a sandwich between them all week.