We Need To Talk About Karl

I’m having an existential crisis: the Chanel 2013 Resort show happened a couple days ago, and I just don’t know what to feel. All the right elements were at play: Versailles, Tilda Swinton, fountains, sunshine, etc. but the clothes…they scared me. I’m trying to wrap my head around them. I’ve looked at the collection 20 times trying to understand what’s going on, and I fundamentally “get it,” but I also just “don’t get it.” I feel like the whole world feels the same way that I do, but is refusing to acknowledge it, or something. Whatever is going on, it’s freaking me the fuck out. Now I have all these questions. Like, am I living in a waking nightmare where suddenly I’m the one who’s not chic? Have I never been chic? Is my entire life a lie?

What is this supposed to mean?

And could I actually be into this guy?

Or this guy?

Is God real?

If God is real, does God hate me?

Am I going to die?

Am I already dead?

Did anyone come to my funeral?

If so, did they look chic? (Please God, tell me they looked chic.)

Is love real?

Am I a good person?

Does nothing even matter anymore?

Is the one element missing in my closet a glamourous-urban-soldier girl look?

A full-length skirt suit moment, perhaps? Grandma-chic?

Am I loving this?

Is it just me, or are these platform sneakers actually kind of amazing?

Also…I would kill for this whole look.

And kind of maybe this one too.

Okay. I think I get it now. Whew! For a second there things were getting really dark for me.

LOVE YOU. MEAN IT.
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