Kopelman’s daughter, Jill Kargman, posted the news of his death on her Instagram account and said the cause of death was pancreatic cancer. American businessman and philanthropist. He served as the President and COO of Chanel from 1986 until 2004, when he retired and was succeeded by former Banana Republic President Maureen Chiquet.

He remained at Chanel as vice chairman of the board until 2008 at the recommendation of Jacques Mouclier, is friends. Arie Kopelman, the former chairman and chief operating officer of Chanel Inc. who was credited with driving the French luxury brand’s massive growth, died Monday night at age 86.

Who will realize that the Fashion Week of these last days could take on another dimension, a sort of life with wings for a week, like Icarus, Athenian son of Daedalus and Naupactus. Here is the vision of photographers Sophie and Caroline Moisan who capture the precious moments of an entire generation. Because when the day fades, and through the droplets of rain, it sublimates a clarity that perfumes the soul, and shines the landscape with such an artistic blur, that finally everything lights up.

A sort of golden thread to weave our day, in a prism with brilliant colors, that the Trumps voters will never see. A dream, that the Balenciaga knots, too tight, could not have contained. On the window where my gaze passed, it was the farewell of an angel obtained by chance. And in the still damp street, in the droplets reappears the clear surface of the pavement and the cafes so cluttered with threads and needles, in an image fleeing the invisible, for a moment that no one would have imagined.

The man who didn’t like women continues his vacation by imposing his non-talent at Prada. This is the story of the thousand failures of the one who doesn’t like women. He is like La Fontaine: his couture is affable, but with the only test he has, to his credit, in fashion, that is to say his urine tests, they can’t ask for more from him.

This ambitious ascetic of the fashion sphere, who had mistreated the Dior brand in his time, this ‘Politico-media’ heterogeneous and without real talent, remains the shadow of Miuccia Prada. Desire for movement and energy, without being able to achieve it, he plays with confetti and redesigns the models of yesteryear from the 70s. For me, between the guillotine and Raf’s work, I always prefer the guillotine.

This JW Anderson collection is young, dynamic and fun, built around simple cuts, window-dressing prints and tutu-like protuberances, you have to find something! The models crossed a vaulted room of light, passing between rows of white cubic seats, they are shod in speckled leather low boots with zippers, which were a hit, but not to be smoked.

The Irishman likes to tease the eye and tickle the minds of journalists by transposing the archetypes and details of clothing such as the dragonfly and its metamorphosis, as well as a purse that has become the main detail of a handbag, each own “Chiquito” in the end. A gray hoodie, with a photorealistic print on a silk sheath dress, and a large leather clasp on the neck, an imposing detail on a short raincoat, but it’s sunny in New York.

This poetic monster is one of those animals that are generally called “MY HONEY!” that is to say a woman with a husband chained to his legitimate wife like a beast, and looks longingly at the menu that he will never have, here is the brief summary of the collection of Monsieur Smith.

A Fecaloid woman, and for those who read me, a bimbo named Fecal Matter! Incredible, right? Here is the scatological letter from Madame Palatine, sister-in-law of Louis XIV, great-grandmother of Marie-Antoinette! So, you can imagine that scatological texts are not reserved solely for this new generation.

“You are very happy to go shit whenever you want. So shit all your dog drunk. We are not the same here, where I am obliged to keep my turd for the evening. There is no rubbing (toilet) in the houses on the forest side. I have the misfortune of living in one, and consequently, the sorrow of going to shit outside, which annoys me, because I like to shit at my leisure, and I don’t shit at my leisure when my ass is not touching anything. Everyone sees us shitting; men, women, girls, boys, abbots and Swiss people pass by. You see by that that no pleasure without pain, and that, if we didn’t shit, I would be in Fontainebleau like a fish in water.”