I Smell a Karl.

A: Perfect, perfect, perfect, perfect, NO.

image: Trendy Crew

M: Yee-haw, motherfuckers.

A: Its like when I forget to put on my cute shoes and walk out of the house in flip flops. EXCEPT I DON'T KEEP WALKING.

M: Maybe her real shoes are in that enormous bag, along with a dead body.

A: I love that enormous body bag. I will gladly take it off her hands if she's finding it too heavy.

M: It's pretty amazing.

A: I just seriously don't understand what happened when she chose those boots. Did she lose a bet?

M: I bet Karl Lagerfeld was involved. He seems vindictive.

A: Oh! He is certifiable. Did you read this amazing article about him?

Fax me.

M: I couldn't get past the nightshirt without guffawing at my desk.

A: I'm going to get myself one of those special reading canopies. And maybe two houses. And two drivers. DEFINITELY a maid to take care of the kitten.

M: He powders his hair. I knew he was weird but this is kind of amazing.

A: He takes weird to an awesome new level. But hey, if you're that rich and famous, why not be as weird as possible?

M: Right? Though he is a little obsessed with these white smocks.

A: I think my absolute favorite thing is the revelation that Karl is a Diet Coke-head.

M: A Diet Coke-head that wears jeans with his face printed on them.

A: IT'S VERY SUBTLE.

M: "I used to fax a lot, but people don't have faxes any more."

A: "The people I was going out with are dead or don't exist anymore."

M: Poor Karl.

A: Marianne! I think he's saying he disappeared them.

M: Clearly I have not read that far.

A: He and Wintour both have the same powers. It's part of their agreement.

M: God forbid they ever turn on each other.

A: It will be like Harry Potter vs Voldemort. They cancel each other out.

PS. I just fired myself, so you don't need to do anything. I'll just let myself out.

M: Oh good. I didn't want to deal with the paperwork.

A: Can you just mail my last check?

M: That's adorable. No.

A: *sigh*