Lagerfeld: Emperor of Fashion
JUDGING from the universal, ecstatic acclaim his death at the age of 85 has prompted in seemingly every organ of the major media, his highly cultivated image as a black-clad high priest, the hyper-extravaganzas he made of fashion shows, his Babylonian worship of his cat, his disordered sexuality, his political comments, his entourage of “Karl’s boys,” including a child — his “godson;” his closeness with the trashiest of celebrity idols, his disdain for “curvy” and “fat” women, his celebration of androgyny, his movies portraying repressive Europe giving birth to multiculturalism, material excess and orgies; his famous secrecy and his success in creating a global empire which throttled competitors, the fashion designer Karl Lagerfeld was an insider like few people are. He was certainly at the very apex of the sordid powers behind, and in front of, the scenes.
Did he make some beautiful and even feminine clothes in his lengthy career? Yes, he did.
Was he talented? Undeniably.
But Lagerfeld, who designed for Chanel and Fendi and made fashion lines for retailers such as Macy’s and H&M, also spread a true disdain for femininity and played a major part in creating the ugly, occult trampy-ness that is everywhere:
So enamored was he with the physique of the skinny, adolescent male, it is entirely plausible that many of Lagerfeld’s models in recent years weren’t women at all. In any event, some of them certainly looked like men or boys in make up and dresses. The facial bone structure and body of Kristen McMenamy (strange name), to take one example, are highly masculine:






