Gabriela Hearst brought the American spirit to Paris’s Left Bank on Monday afternoon, presenting her spring 2025 collection at Karl Lagerfeld’s former home to an audience that included Lily Gladstone, with live music by Wesley Schultz of Colorado folk rock band The Lumineers.

The Uruguayan-American designer served canapés and champagne on the verdant lawn. Inspired by female artistic heroines (you have to find inspiration somewhere)! The ultimate irony for a journalist is to be “on the verge” of death, but I’m still forcing myself to write a few pages about Saint Hearst’s muse who is carrying an estimable corpse: her former collections for Chloé.

Gabriela acts on me like a remedy for love and even with viagra, reason and logic always take over for me. At the word “Hearst”, nothing hardens, the nothingness more staggering than sidereal. This hippie nostalgic for the 70s, the wealthiest of seamstresses, is the bluff on the self, egocentric by her miserable vision that pushes you to a ridiculous dive into the sewing of ready-to-paste and who, to the extreme, to come to Paris for a “show of rags” for the story of a eunuch without head or tail, but do not say: “A man without equal.” Say: “A eunuch.”