By now, this is old news. Karl Lagerfeld died last month at 85 years old (plus or minus), and everyone went bonkers. A deluge of articles and lists of iconic Karl moments hit the press and social media, most done in a worshipful tone and a few with the attitude of “good riddance.”
So what’s the deal with these polarized eulogies?
Like everything involving humans, it’s complicated.
Why He’s a Big Deal
For one, Lagerfeld truly was a giant in the industry. He pulled a dusty, lethargic Chanel out of storage in the 80s and made into the behemoth it is today. The fame of the double-c logo is due to his aggressive marketing strategy.
He simultaneously pumped out collections both for Chanel and for Fendi, a monumental amount of work. Apparently he would wake up in the morning with an entire collection in his brain and would draw the whole thing out in one sitting.
He was the first “high fashion” designer to work with a fast fashion brand, H&M, in the early 2000s. He gained points with me by remarking that the partnership was a disappointment in the end, because H&M made the collection limited, so fewer people could buy it. He wanted to make fashion accessible and felt that H&M let the public down. It is noteworthy, though, that since then there have been many designer collaborations with stores like Target and H&M, with massive success.
Marketing, perhaps even more than actual design, is what made him stand out. He understood that his image was a brand in itself, and he used it to create a cult of personality – and it caught on. The whole getup, the white hair, white shirt, dark glasses, was even in his view, a caricature. This caricature was a moneymaker, as he opened his own eponymous line.
And Why He’s Problematic
Karl was also a straight-up weirdo.
He left a large part of his fortune to his cat, Choupette, who had two full-time maids.
He was exceedingly obedient to a self-imposed cult of beauty, as evidenced by his motivation to lose 93 pounds: “I suddenly wanted to dress differently, to wear clothes designed by Hedi Slimane… But these fashions… required me to lose at least eighty pounds” (The Karl Lagerfeld Diet). Yup. He lost weight and had his doctor write a book about it all so that he could fit into a specific brand of suiting. I admit, it’s hard for me to not judge him on that. It is so superficial, such an unhealthy worldview that he spread. This is compounded by the famously disparaging remarks about Adele (“She is a little too fat, but she has a beautiful face and a divine voice”), that to me reveal a very limited view of what beauty actually is.
In my view, Lagerfeld wasn’t a true feminist either (in fact, how could you be when you’re also fatphobic?). In 2018, he made news by dismissing harassment claims made by a model against a well-known fashion stylist by saying, “It’s unbelievable. If you don’t want your pants pulled about, don’t become a model! Join a nunnery, there’ll always be a place for you in the convent. They’re recruiting even!”
Woah.
There’s a large piece of me that screams, “Listen, a-hole, you made your fortune off of women. Have some respect.”
You’d Better Love Tweed
There was a scathing obituary in The New Yorker by Judith Thurman condemning Karl as a puffed-up fashion despot in the same vein as King Louis IVX. Perhaps the biggest condemnation of Karl was Thurman’s assertion that he was not in any way innovative. He churned out pieces with impeccable tailoring and workmanship, but sans imagination. I admit that I’ve secretly felt that way about Chanel for a long time – budget allowing, I would absolutely go to the brand for high-quality staples. But innovation? Nope. The first thing I think of when I think of Chanel is not, truth be told, Karl Lagerfeld. It’s “you’d better love tweed.”
If there’s anything I’ve learned since starting this blog and diving deep into the cerebral side of fashion, it’s that in order to gauge our social progress from a sartorial perspective, we must look at what the clothes are doing. And at Chanel, with the exception of a few workwear-friendly pieces, the message has been that women are static in time. Womp womp.
I’m really hoping that Lagerfeld’s predecessor, Virginie Viard, will bring imagination and forward-thinking to a brand with a beautiful, even if static, history. However, the consensus is that she will likely conserve the brand’s course – but only time will tell.
The Moral of the Story is That We All Contain Multitudes.
So do I agree with Thurman? Absolutely.
Do I agree with all of the elogies? Absolutely.
I may have even cried when I watched the Chanel Fall/Winter 2019 runway show. It was stunning and poignant.
One of the challenges I’ve set for myself over the past few years is to learn to live with mixed truths. I find that so much pain and confusion is born of black-and-white thinking, and while our brains are designed to neatly categorize pretty much everything, this instinct is worth rerouting.
Lagerfeld clearly was a huge talent with an astonishing work ethic. He worked to make fashion accessible. He also was a jackass who perpetuated harmful and downright false notions of what – and who – can be beautiful. To him, fashion was all about illusion and dreams – to me, it’s about identity and art.
And I suppose that strange mix is reflective of how I feel about myself, right? I can be hard-working and still watch trash tv. I am kind and at times condescending (working on it). I can be an awesome leader and also a complete pushover. I can tout self-acceptance and still feel insecure.
I would take a bullet for my dog, but never, ever EVER will she receive anything in my will other than my stash of beef jerky.
What contradictions do you see in yourself? Thoughts on Lagerfeld? Let me know.
love
Stig.
PS. I ripped off Walt Whitman’s Song of Myself:
Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself;
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)
One of my faves.
