Karl Lagerfeld's position at the pinnacle of the fashion world was not undeserved. His ability to design eight collections annually for Chanel, five for Fendi, and still update his personal brand regularly was nothing short of extraordinary.
And it wasn't just the quantity; the quality of his work was unparalleled—
In 1965, when Fendi, still an Italian local brand at the ti, hired Karl as their designer, his first action was to revamp their logo. The iconic double-F symbol was his creation.
Under Karl's dramatic yet refined designs, Fendi quickly ascended to the top tier of global haute couture, completely transforming its image.
The sa could be said for Chanel.
In 1983, Chanel was at a low point, teetering on the edge of obsolescence, with its unchanging designs having gone from classic to outdated. In a situation where no one believed in a revival, Karl's takeover breathed new life into the brand, making it one of the most profitable fashion houses in the world.
Karl preserved Chanel's elegant essence, subtly modifying proportions to retain loyal custors while skillfully injecting elents of sports and rock to attract a younger generation. He elevated Chanel's haute couture to new heights, establishing the brand as a symbol of modern elegance.
A few words simply cannot capture the brilliance Karl has brought to the fashion industry over the past forty years. Without a doubt, he has fundantally changed the entire fashion market and continues to create with vibrant energy.
While Edgar couldn't fully grasp the nuances, Eddie, as a connoisseur, imdiately recognized Karl's ticulous touch. The outfits prepared for Anson were not only carefully selected but also perfectly captured the subdued, contemplative quality that Anson exuded—showcasing a completely different side from the one seen at the Dior fashion show.
It was clear that Karl truly appreciated Anson and saw the potential in him.
"Good morning, how did you sleep last night?"
Edgar's voice interrupted Eddie's thoughts, turning to see Anson, still half-asleep, standing at the bedroom door with a tousled "bird's nest" of hair.
It was in these monts that Anson's youth at eighteen beca most evident.
His eyes were barely open.
He had only slept for three or four hours, and he still felt unsteady on his feet, his body heavy from fatigue. Ironically, the exhaustion had prevented him from getting restful sleep, waking up at odd intervals. He now felt as if he might drift away at any mont.
"God, I really thought coming to Paris would be a vacation. It turns out I was too young and too naïve. What ti is it?"
*Vogue*, *Catch If You Can*, Dior, parties, and socializing, followed by Chanel.
So much had happened in just a few days, and everything was packed too tightly.
Edgar was in the sa boat, having slept for only forty minutes—a quick nap, really. Beyond the events in Paris, he needed to fully understand the situation with *Catch If You Can*, find the right position to negotiate Anson's salary, and maximize the industry impact of working with Steven Spielberg and Tom Hanks. He was even busier than Anson.
But Edgar was exhilarated. Fatigue was one thing, but his ntal state was entirely different.
Edgar looked at Anson. "It's eight o'clock. You can still rest for another hour before getting up for makeup and preparations."
An hour.
Anson let out a soft sigh. "Forget it. I'll start getting ready now. I need a massage—my shoulders and back are incredibly stiff."
With that, Anson turned and, with his eyes still closed, shuffled blindly across the room like a sleepwalker, heading for the bathroom to soak in a hot bath—
Hoping it would alleviate so of his exhaustion.
Edgar turned to Eddie, who had remained in the background, and gave him an apologetic smile.
Eddie didn't mind in the slightest. If anything, Anson's current state made him seem even more genuine.
It wasn't until Anson had washed up, soaked in the bath, and reappeared in the living room that he noticed Eddie's presence. "When did you get here?"
Eddie nodded slightly. "Just a little while ago."
Anson's gaze shifted—he glanced at the Chanel suit, then at Eddie, back and forth twice, before Eddie got straight to the point, "Are you planning to go to the show dressed like this?"
Anson was puzzled, "Why, is there sothing wrong?"
Eddie wasn't surprised. Anson was indeed sowhat out of touch with the fashion world. "At Dior, you were a model; the star was the designer's clothes. But today, you're a guest, and the star is the way you present yourself."
"Besides, there are probably a lot of people paying attention to you today."
Eddie spoke lightly, but seeing the newspaper on the hotel table, with Anson's photo splashed across the front page, he couldn't help but add another comnt.
"A lot."
"Wearing the Karl suit by the book, there's nothing wrong with that. You can still shine, but it might be a little disappointing."
Expectations are tricky like that.
It's like watching a movie. If you walk into the theater expecting a 6 out of 10, and it turns out to be a 7, you're pleasantly surprised. But if you're expecting a 9 and get an 8.5, even if the movie is great, you can't help but feel a bit let down.
This is the sa. Everyone's expecting Anson to wow them again. From the Dior fashion show to being endorsed by two industry titans, Karl and Anna, expectations are off the charts.
Now, people aren't just expecting an 8 out of 10, or even a 10. They're hoping for sothing that will surpass all expectations.
Honestly, Eddie wasn't sure, but he couldn't help being curious—
He admitted, he was also excited.
Even Edgar was getting a bit nervous.
Maybe the only one who seed completely at ease was Anson himself.
Anson grinned and chuckled, "Hey, guys, three days ago, the Paris fashion world didn't even know my na. What are you expecting?"
Edgar quietly glanced at the newspaper.
"To be precise, the attention we're getting now is way beyond expectations. Captain, we've already landed a role in 'Catch If You Can,' haven't we? So, everything from here on out is just a bonus."
"Let's stay grounded. Keep things in perspective."
Anson had a level of maturity beyond his years, a rare clarity in the spotlight of fa, which made both Edgar and Eddie pause for thought.
In comparison, Anson seed particularly relaxed.
Anson's gaze returned to the Chanel suit, which was classic Chanel style.
"Eddie, if you were to make changes, what would you suggest?"
Eddie shook his head, "None."
He flatly rejected the idea, noticing Anson's surprised look, but Eddie remained composed. "No one dares to alter Karl's designs, not even Anna. After all, that's Karl Lagerfeld."
Edgar couldn't help himself, "Mr. Sleeman! But didn't you just…"
Try to encourage Anson?
Eddie wasn't flustered or guilty, "I was just suggesting a possibility. I suspect that everyone is now anticipating Anson's personal taste, including Karl and Anna, because that's how this whole story began."
"GQ" started it all, because Anson broke the mold; and two days ago, the Dior fashion show echoed that sa approach.
So now, when people talk about a revolution in n's fashion and discuss Anson, they already have preconceived notions. Today is no different.
So, what's Anson going to do?
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