Kaiser Karl has apparently worked magic over at Fendi, because it has somehow become a brand I covet. A lot. A lot a lot. Mainly thanks to this campaign actually.
Seriously, this man can do no wrong in my eyes. I worship at his despotic fashion feet. Or I would if he would let someone as declasse as me anywhere near them.
Why despotic, you ask? To which I say, where have you been? Have you not seen how obsessive Mr Lagerfeld is about controlling his empire? I wouldn't want to be on his bad side.
He even does the photography on his own campaign photo shoots these days. Like these for Fendi with Anja. His style may owe rather a lot to a few other photographers that I can think of and possibly rather a lot of exceedingly talented 'assistants'. But now is not the time to be casting aspersions on my favourite fashion dictator. Let us just gaze lovingly and longingly on these images and hope that one day, one lovely, lovely, luxurious day, someone somewhere will gift me everything in this campaign. Especially the fur collars and the luggage. And the shoes.
Actually, I prefer the campaign to the runway looks, but there were some great ones in the show too. These clothes, like a lot of the new simple but luxurious classic shapes that are coming for autumn, really do need models with a bit more flesh on their bones than Karl usually goes for and it still feels much too early to be thinking about wearing heavy black velvet. But I'm already lusting after these visions of winteriness...
I think it's the unusual undertone of Tzarist Russian oppulence, crossed with classic English country house parties that is really doing it for me. Nancy Mitford meets Princess Anastasia. Or wearing an inappropriate fur coat and wellies to walk the dogs and drinking and smoking too much.