Karl forwarded my assistant-in-charge-of-Chanel this correspondence, if you could call it that.
I was lunching with Donatella (yes, Karl, she is plastic.) when said assistant brought me the email, wrapped in a fresh Hermés scarf (which is summarily burned).
Donatella proceeded to throw a bottle of Dom at the assistant and stood on a chair screaming for two hours. We had to call in the police negotiator to get her down. And by we, I mean the champagne-drenched assistant. (She complained so much I fired her - she got a free champagne spa treatment from Donatella Versace! The nerve.)
Anyway, the point of all of this is that this Vidal Wu person should change their name. Exotic names are so demode. It's all about the Germanic names now.
And if you call me bourgeoisie once more,
Now if you'll excuse me, the assistant-in-charge-of-the-Saarinen-sofa forgot to polish one-third of the chrome leg on the left side. There is hell to pay.