It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of Chanel, it was the time of Resort, it was the epoch of belief that Clemence Poesy would be the campaign face, it was the epoch of incredulity that cleavage and hype triumphed subtle glamour, it was the season of Blonde, it was the season of dye, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of fake tans, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to dirty blonde, we were all going direct and away from the bleach bottle.
Let's be objective here: Clemence opts for a yellow tweed with ostrich feathers and completely sells me on the outfit (she bestest the runway model by miles). In comparison, Blake Lively's disappointingly brazen black sequined jacket and micro-"you can't be serious that's a skirt"-mini, which quite frankly makes the Kaiser's designs look like they were pulled from the floors of Forever21.
Coupled with my frustration at Blake's alter-ego's onscreen selfish desire to be ja adored of NYC (plus the world), I am *this* close to writing off Coco's legacy from my wish list. Bring back European chic for Chanel!