Zana and I started our day in the company of Paris-based designer Damir Dona, whose latest collection channeled ancient cultures with a bevy of gold Egyptian flourishes and grecian drapes. We then made our way to the Nicolas Andreas Taralis show, which didn’t disappoint. The former apprentice to Hedi Slimane has branched out on his own with an eponymous line that continues to matures with each new season. After that, we jetted over to check out Dries Van Noten, where the collection boasted fascinating prints as diverse as city lights and urban landscapes.
Exhausted, we soldiered on to the Bernhard Willhelm presentation. Mariachis, piñatas, and a massive crowd were sardined into the presentation, which gave the scene a claustrophobic vibe. After two drinks we headed straight to Thierry Mugler. Lady Gaga appeared in a video introducing the throngs to the show: “I am a Mugler woman,” she said in extreme closeup. “Don’t fuck with me. Don’t fuck with Mugler. Welcome to Paris. We are Paris.” Yellow incandescent lights dropped from the ceiling, and an army of skin-toned looks marched down the runway to the beat of Gaga’s “Black Jesus † Amen Fashion.” Dinner followed, and we ended the night at the exquisite Mugler afterparty.
Still, sometimes a great night can go bad—and fast. After being dropped off at our flat, I realized I’d left my cellphone in the cab! Tomorrow, I will tell you guys how I got it back. Either that, or I’ll share tips on how to survive Fashion Week without a phone! Souhaite-moi bonne chance!