Let’s make an assumption that the word “couturier” is pronounced “costumier”, that the word “creation” is pronounced “crémateur”, that the word “piggy bank” of the lord is pronounced “tricherie”, and thus, the dictation of fashion, all of a sudden, will have a very strange aspect. But, by starting to make too many assumptions, everything will go to hell, and nothing will be straight anymore. In this eventuality, I will sign “hedgehog”, because I sting like the latter, unless you catch me with gentleness and condescension.

So here is Courrèges at the Temple and who will probably remain on the quay of the desires of the obscurantist à la Wintour, black glasses for a white wrinkle who wants to make us take the turn of death all fire extinguished. In the center, the collection of Nicolas Di Felice, “the Belgian café” who wants to take us for waffles, like the bimbo next to me who whispers in my ear: “I am a self-taught Hellenist, and a mythomaniac, as a self-entrepreneur!”

French fashion is tortured by shameless bad designers and foreigners to boot! Banker entrepreneurs who came to take the soul of the houses, by torturing their founding symbols for purely commercial reasons. Also managed by advisors creating strategies by the kilometer, instructed by great international consultants who created Goldman Sachs or Madoff; a host of pretentious little people in gray suits and black ties, credible enough by their suits to continue to make believe the incredible; Courrèges is resurrected, Hallelujah.

Proof that in the kingdom of cooking, nothing is ever lost. It is the logic of the treasure that we rediscover, with consumers conscious and flattered to participate in this fictitious renaissance for a few thousand euros. Finally, fashion and luxury are not a simple term, or a pure semantic creation, but a real sociological and psychological concept for idiots and idle bimbos. So, think about it for the next collection, make Courrèges.

FM