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Karl Lagerfeld has never ever been to India. "It really is considerably far more inspiring not to go to spots than to go," he explained right now immediately after a Chanel presentation that spectacularly evoked the sights, smells, and appears of the very last times of the Raj. Alright, Michel Gaubert's sitar-cost-free soundtrack may possibly have been a stretch (until the Raj was rocking to David Lynch's new album), but the towering tiers of fruits, sweets, and flowers that loaded the heart of the place absolutely experienced a sensation of palatial excessive. They ended up circled by a toy educate bearing decanters of…what was it that maharajas drank? scotch?…which rang genuine as a decadent depth, conveying the opinion of a privileged number of actively playing even though empires crumbled. Audio common?

Lagerfeld resisted these kinds of topical insinuations, but he did concede that vogue traditionally tends to appear into its excessively innovative individual for the duration of hard economical moments. A excellent instant for him, in other terms. And this selection, an yearly salute to the operate of the craftspeople who make Chanel come about, like the not long ago handed François Lesage (for this reason the identify, Métiers d'Art), was absolutely a feat of innovative excessive, from the jaw-dropping established, which turned a curved place under the dome of the Grand Palais into a corner of Rajasthan, to the clotted silver embroideries, the gilded laces, the lustrous silks that determined the character of the clothes.

It really is easy to imagine a canny designer making the decision to aim these kinds of shine and glitter at an emergent market feeling its vogue oats (I'm talking about India, BTW), but Lagerfeld's post-show declaration that bling was dated made it clear that he experienced something else on his mind. The theme "Paris-Bombay" was a reminder that Europe's vogue industry has increasingly turned to India to produce extravagantly handworked pieces as it has become prohibitively expensive to make them at home. Lagerfeld's fiendish plan was to flip the equation, so that everything that looked intricately Indian was actually made by Chanel's ateliers in Paris. That was some kind of tour de force.

All that aside, Paris and Bombay blended beautifully in pearl-swagged tweeds, in a raw silk tunic over leggings (they ended up actually sinuously bootlike, so we should probably call them beggings or loots), in sheer paisleys, or side-draped asymmetry in ivory silk. The elegance of a lightly peplumed jacket and matching skirt in ivory silk experienced absolutely nothing to do with geography. It was simply French chic. Not everything worked there was a queen-of-the-fairies instant that felt like a malfunction of Florence's machine but the sheer prodigious extravagance of the dream world that Lagerfeld pours onto his catwalk selection immediately after selection allows for the flaw the merest flaw once in a even though.

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