Cor, those Chanel girls don’t half get about do they? Under the sea, atop a polar ice cap, inside a super computer, down the supermarket… how do they get the holiday days? And now, they’re only going intergalactic. Well, a colossal rocket supplanted in the middle of the Grand Palais, as we found this morning, would suggest travel of the outer space variety. But where, exactly, are they going? The galaxy is a big place, you see. The moon? Through a wormhole to alter the space-time continuum? Or, perhaps, to communicate with alien life to stop them from blowing us to smithereens? Let’s assume the latter. Because what better ambassador to send than a beautiful lady clad entirely in Chanel? In Karl’s world such things as a space suit (pssh) are not necessary. No, these astronauts wear tweed, obviously – here, the Chanel two-set was refigured to include this high funnel neckline, a bit Trekkie, or made from this this soft, fluffy baby pink wool. Which looked quite warm. Because space is cold, presumably. Hence also those shiny blankets that sat around the models necks, like a puffy version of what you get after a marathon. And, on the subject of shiny – there was plenty of that, because what says space travel more than something shiny? – glittering tights tucked into equally glittering stargazer boots, shearling jackets shot through with panels of metallic fabric, crystal intergalactic-alien-queen headbands, giant silver backpacks. Oh, and on a more practical note, there were shorts, some of which that sat beneath matching tweed skirts – because in anti-gravity situations, no lady wishes to expose themselves, do they? At the end of the show, the rocket literally took off. Of course it did. Bravo Karl on another truly magical Chanel experience!
Photographs by Jason Lloyd-Evans