Okay, Karl, Just This Once

Aside from the belt, the fringe, the shoes-slash-lucite-hooves, and the expression on the model's face (which can only be described as "I am smelling something bad while thinking about completing my overdue tax return"), this is one lovely dress. The neckline, the midriff band, the fantastic fabric which I can almost *touch* through the computer screen ...

And it's by that certified wackaloon, Lagerfeld (for Fendi)! I swear, I love to read about Lagerfeld. If there were a Lagerfeld News Weekly I would be a charter subscriber. Nothing about him surprises me. Bathes in a mixture of V8 and ball bearings? That's for amateurs. Can't sleep unless a minion is doing wheelies on a dirt bike up and down the parqueted hall? Pffft. Hardly even eccentric. He's been hired to decorate a secret lair on Skullcrusher Mountain, take pictures of the process for a coffee-table book, and compose a chamber-music piece for an oboe sextet for the grand opening? Please, the man does that every third Tuesday. Lagerfeld would have to build an army of robot kittens that breathe fire and knit alpaca socks before I would even raise an eyebrow.

And yet it still surprises me when I like something he's designed! You go, Karl. Love ya, baby. Don't ever change.