KAISER KARL IN DA HOUSE

Put me next to Kanye West and my heart rate stays a steady 70 beat per minute. But put me next to, in front of, behind, or below Grace Coddington, Mario Testino or Kate Moss and my overly excited, inner groupie comes out.

Yesterday night was no exception when I exited the car on the Avenue Winston Churchill in front of the Grand Palais in Paris. I put my camera bag on the floor and looked up, and saw… Karl. King Karl. Kaiser Karl.

He’d just done a pre-visit and left the building before all the common folk would storm in. And Karl’s slightly of a certain age (though he doesn’t look the part) so he probably wanted to hit the Egyptian cotton a bit early. Or do something with a couch, a blanket and Choupette. But he was here now.

If I could photograph him for the Look of the Day? He shook his head no. What did he think was the most beautiful artwork of the exhibition (because I surely also had a pre-visit?) The enormous 3D Dior bow that was made of bottles of J’Adore. That was also my favourite. Karl. We have a connection. But, of course, we already knew that for years. Karl moved on and two handsome men showed me that they were invited to a party I wasn’t. Definitely not. I kept an appropriate amount of distance. My colleague Karin Kuipers (newspaper girls never let go) ignored these stern looking men and groupied her way to Karl. She had a moment. Hurrah!

Karl got into the car, put on his belt like a good boy and nodded curtly. Karl, it was awesome! Next time at our place!