




Then there were the proportions tiered, short over long. A cropped jacket with elbow-length sleeves topped a high-waisted, to-the-knee skirt a look that combined elongation and bulk in a way that was intriguing though likely to pose a challenge to many bodies. How would it gel with the Leightons, Blakes, and Jessicas in their front-row perches? But if the collection had a difficult aspect, it also felt brave in its boldness and focus. In place of the magpie glee that can make a Chanel show such a sensory overload, there was an almost military discipline here, even as the parade grew more elaborate with each passing outfit. The combination of voluptuousness and severity could have bordered on an arch libertine sensibility, but barely brushed hair and fresh, girlish makeup added a vital lightness.




The ever precise Lagerfeld is a textbook Virgo, but in honor of Chanel the Leo, he filled the Grand Palais with a vast and marvelous lion. Its paw rested on a huge globe a Chanel pearl, perhaps from which the models emerged. Befitting a collection that had the courage of its convictions, this was a fierce, awe inspiring creature one that could have sprung from a dream or even a nightmare.
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