Karl Lagerfeld Photo Shoot

Yesterday we bumped into a photo shoot, not an entirely uncommon occurrence in New York (a few years ago we wandered onto the set of the Sex and the City finale). Several people had gathered to watch very tall models shed puffy coats (it was kind of chilly) to reveal slinky dresses. Then the women posed poutingly in front of a geometrically designed box, shiny brown on the side facing the camera and completely hollow on the other.

Taking the pictures was Karl Lagerfeld, absolutely imperious in a Blade Runner–esque gray trench coat, fingerless black gloves, and trademark high-collared shirt. His white ponytail didn’t move as he issued commands or strutted from person to person, different angle to different angle. When he motioned for a handbag to be removed from a model’s grasp, not one but two assistants rushed to remove it. When he got ready to take a photograph, another assistant held the camera so that Karl would only have to depress one finger.

This morning, as we rounded the same spot, we overheard a man ask his ten-year-old daughter whether she knew what the terms “sociology,” “trappings of the middle class,” and “luxury” meant. The photo shoot was long gone, but its effects lingered on.