I can’t remember when I first heard about Karl Lagerfeld, it was years ago and I was immediately intruiged with the man behind the seams at Chanel. I would scour the internet for any information, pictures, interviews, and videos of him, but never came up with much. I knew what he looked like, what he did for a living and I knew who he was most likely to arrive arm in arm with at the Costume Institute Gala or who he would most likely seat front and center at one of his shows, but I was more interested in the man himself. I wanted to see him on an average day (pretty sure it doesn’t exist), I wanted to know the man behind the dark shades and underneath the black and white suits and black leather gloves. I was beyond thrilled when I discovered there was a documentary out titled “Lagerfeld Confidential”. I could NOT believe that Karl agreed to let cameras into his private world of glamour, luxury, and excess. Now take that excitement and multiply it by 32 and that’s how excited I was when the news hit that Anna Wintour was doing the same thing. Anna. Wintour. While I scoured for Karl, I more or less stalked for Anna. I was obsessed with knowing the woman who was perched upon the throne of Vogue Magazine. The woman who had a best selling novel turned film written about her and her ice cold demeanor, the woman who literally held the keys to the gates of fashion in her cold, skinny, hands. When I heard about “September Issue”, I couldn’t believe that I was going to be invited (for 90 minutes) into the world of Ms. Wintour and Vogue. I couldn’t wait to see the ice queen interact with her staff and everyone in her world and to see inside her home and the offices of Vogue. The film was T.D.F. (to die for)…seri T.D.F. And the icing on the cake? Well, I did not think that for ONE second Anna would be letting her walls down, but she COMPLETELY did. I won’t ruin it for those who have not seen, but I strongly encourage anyone who has any curiosity or interest in the world of fashion, glamour, and beauty to go see “September Issue”. Ms. Wintour knocks em’ dead in knee length, floral, dresses and her signature oversized black Chanel’s. You go girl!
Saturday afternoon I was working and found myself craving peanut M&M’s. My director keeps some in his office and sometimes when I have these little cravings I suddenly “remember a question that I have” and make my way in there. Once inside, I ask my question and then give my best “ohhhhh, forgot those were in here and they look to die for right now” look and then grab a handful of sin. So I grabbed the goods and we started chatting. I sat down in the chair opposite him and while I was in the middle of gushing to him about my recent boot purchase (best find EV) he interrupted me and said, “Oh my god, Brittany, look oustide my office”. I turned and there, right in front of our eyes, was a grey mouse. We watched him walk out of someone’s cube and then his body just hit the ground. He rolled onto his back and then his legs started twitching, I yelled, “What is going on?! Is he in pain!? What is happening?!” and then he was still…one more body twitch and then still again. We sat there in silence for about 26 seconds and then looked each other dead in the eye and both said, “Is he dead?”. I got out of my seat and walked over to get a better look. My director yelled, “What are you doing!? You can’t get so close!!” (I quickly found out that my director, who is a 30 year old, 6’4, male is afraid of mice). I squatted down and peered at the mouse for about 8 seconds and realized he was dead. Gone. The angel of darkness had entered our office and in front of our eyes we watched, experienced, and swallowed death. We later found that the cause of the death was poison. Damn, another one bites the dust. Later on that day the experience had me thinking of my own death. I have always invisioned myself to have a very dramatic funeral on a cool, November day. When I was ten I wrote down very specific instructions for my funeral and kept them in a box (along with a picture of Kate Moss with red lips pursed around a cigarette and my fav pic of Harrison Ford). I wrote that I wanted all the men to wear sunglasses and all the women in black veils. Everyone had to be head to toe in black. I wanted black and white photographs to be taken and I requested it be a cold, dark, rainy day (thanks God!). I also had a list of songs that I wanted to be played and the two that I remember are Joe Cocker, “You are so beautiful” and Whitney Houston, “I will always love you”. My mother said that my funeral seemed little vain (clearly she didn’t get how to leave this world with true grace and style). While I may not be Princess Di, I can assure you, I never leave a party without making a good exit.
Back in June I went to visit a boy who lives in Aspen. He loves reggae like I love purses and I…well I know as much about reggae as I do about the periodic table. There are three things that come to my mind when I think of reggae…drugs, dreads, and drum circles. People often think that I’m a hippie, but I’m totally not. Yes my style can be very reflective of the late 60’s and early 70’s and yes I do enjoy Hendrix, Clapton, and Zeppelin…but trust me when I say…I am not a hippie. And just to clarify…I’m not a faux hippie, I much prefer hippie chic. So when I was leaving Aspen my friend made me a couple of cd’s and there was this certain song that I was OB.SESSED with. I knew a girlfriend of mine who would appreciate the song as much as I and when I played it for her she loved it….we goog’d the lyrics and found that the artist was Michael Franti. We started listening to some of his other stuff and then saw that he was coming to town in October. The guy in Aspen just went to his show a few weeks ago and his sister (who I met up with in NYC) almost died when we told her we were considering buying some tix. She said it was amazing and poss one of the best shows EV. So tonight is the big show and I hope I fall in love with Michael as it seems everyone else already has. I am kind of excited about my outfit and to see all the real hipps! I hope I blend in (shall I go sans shoes?!) and until my next update…PLH (Peace, Love, Happiness)