Rebirth of the Fashion King

The next day.

Karl Lagerfeld was not on Campbell Street.

His car drove to Charles de Gaulle Airport early in the morning, and Anna Wintour's flight landed at 10 a.m.

Before leaving, he peeked out of the studio and said to Virginia, "You're in charge today," before slipping away immediately, wearing sunglasses.

Virginie Viard was sitting in the creative director’s office at exactly nine o’clock.

She had the third version of the accessories design for the Fall/Winter Haute Couture collection spread out in front of her. Karl had said on the phone last night that the proportions of the cuffs in the knitwear section needed to be adjusted, and she was marking the parts that needed to be modified with a red marker.

The office door was closed.

The corridor was also very quiet.

At 10:15, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in."

The woman who entered was Monica, the head seamstress of the haute couture workshop. She was fifty-six years old and had worked for Chanel for thirty-seven years. She was carrying a sample garment in her hand.

A section of the sleeve on the sample garment was torn off.

"Virginie," Monica said in a low voice, "you'd better take a look at this."

When Virginie saw the sample garment, her pen stopped moving.

That was the initial design for Look No. 47 in the series: an ivory white mohair blend tweed jacket. The cuff design was a sketch drawn by Karl himself, using several different textures of white silk threads to create a gradient effect. The workshop spent two days completing the embroidery pattern for the cuffs.

  

The cuffs have now been removed.

The dismantling was very rough.

This is not a normal modification or disassembly. In a normal procedure, a seam ripper would be used to carefully separate each seam to preserve the integrity of the fabric.

The cuffs of this sample garment were cut open with scissors, the edges of the fabric are rough, and several threads are torn, so it may be impossible to repair.

Virginia stood up, walked over to Monica, took the sample garment, and examined it carefully for several minutes.

Monica stood in front of her without saying a word. Everyone else in the studio knew that when Virginia checked the sample garments, her silence didn't mean she had no opinions; it meant she was organizing her thoughts.

"Who demolished it?"

Virginie's voice was calm.

But Monica noticed that when she spoke French, she used the perfect tense, not the imperfect tense.

This means she is certain that this has happened, and she doesn't need an explanation, a description of the process, just a name.

"Emily, a senior designer who was just promoted from the ready-to-wear department."

Why demolish it?

"She said the color scheme of the cuffs was wrong and differed from the rendering."

Virginie Viard turned the sample garment over.

The inner seam allowance still bears the workshop's positioning line markings, with color matching numbers written in pencil. Li Xun personally confirmed those numbers last Wednesday, and she also signed them herself.

Chanel's workflow often goes like this: Karl Lagerfeld draws the design, the workshop completes it, Li Xun conducts the initial review, and she gives the final review and signature.

Color difference?

This sample garment uses an ivory white gradient, and the color temperature deviation is imperceptible to the naked eye under light.

Even if there are doubts, the standard procedure is to take the color chart to natural light for comparison, then fill out a modification request form, and only after Virginie signs it can work begin.

It's even less likely that you could just use scissors to disassemble it.

This is common sense.

Where is she?

"Outside."

"Let her in."

Monica turned and left.

Virginie laid the sample garment flat on her desk and smoothed out the cut cuffs with her hands. The threads along the fabric edges were uneven, and a warp thread had been cut off. Repairing it would require adding lining to the back, which would change the drape.

This sample garment might be ruined; it could waste a lot of time and effort.

At 10:21, Emily walked into the office.

She is 26 years old, French, and graduated from the Paris Fashion Institute at the age of 22. After passing her internship assessment, she stayed on as a junior assistant in the Chanel haute couture workshop...

On her internship evaluation form, Virginie wrote the comment, "Solid foundation in handicrafts, but needs to strengthen process awareness."

Emily came in with a calm, even slightly confused, expression; she clearly hadn't realized the seriousness of the situation.

"Ms. Virginia, you wanted to see me?"

Virginia didn't offer her a seat.

"Did you disassemble this sample garment?"

"Yes."

Why?

"The ivory white color of the cuffs is different from the renderings I received," Emily said.

"The white in the renderings is cooler in tone, while the sample garment is warmer. I felt that was wrong, so I disassembled it and redid it."

Her tone was relaxed, as if she were stating something perfectly natural.

Virginia looked at her.

"Show me the renderings."

Emily pulled a folded copy of the design from her pocket.

Virginia took it and unfolded it.

It's a copy, not the original. The white area on the copy does appear cooler because the copier's color calibration is biased towards blue.

"This is a photocopy."

"The original is in the archives, but I made a copy for convenience."

"Did you compare the colors of the couture sample garments with photocopies?"

"The effect is the same, only the color is a little cooler, but..."

"A color that's too cool is still a color deviation. Are you using a color-shifting copy as a color standard?"

Emily paused for a moment.

"I thought it was..."

"What do you think?"

Virginia placed the copy on the table.

Her movements were light and graceful; the paper fell almost silently onto the table.

But the air in the office suddenly felt very heavy.

"Emily," Virginie's voice remained calm.

Did you fill out an alteration request form before you removed the sample garment?

"no."

"Have you spoken with Monica?"

"Monica is busy with something else..."

"Did they ask me to sign anything?"

"I can't find you..."

"I'm in the office, and you could have looked for Rhine, but you didn't."

Emily opened her mouth.

Virginie continued.

"You are unsure of the color standard, you did not use a color chart to compare it under natural light, and you used a photocopy for convenience without verifying the original."

"You took three weeks to make a sample garment in the workshop, without filling out an application form, informing the head tailor, or getting my signature; you just cut it up with scissors."

She paused for a moment.

Do you think you did the right thing?

Emily's face began to turn pale.

She finally realized that Virginie wasn't asking her about the process, but was holding her accountable.

"Ms. Virginie, I...I'm so sorry. I just wanted to do it better. I think there was definitely a problem with the color, and I'd like to redo a more accurate version..."

"You think there's something wrong with the color."

Virginia repeated her words.

Then she picked up the sample garment, turned it to the inside seam allowance, and pointed to the color matching number written in pencil.

"This number was confirmed by Rhine last Wednesday, and I also signed it."

Emily looked at the line of pencil writing.

Her lips moved slightly, but no sound came out.

"You say there's a problem with the color? Do you think your eyes are more accurate than Rhine's and mine?"

As soon as those words were spoken, the two assistants who were arranging fabrics in the hallway outside the office simultaneously stopped what they were doing.

They heard it.

It wasn't because Virginie was loud.

It's because when she said those words, there was an undercurrent of tension.

Content, in the Chanel creative studio, is the highest level of scrutiny.

Monica stood in the doorway, watching Emily's retreating figure.

The old tailor's expression was complicated.

She had been in the workshop for quite some time and had seen Karl lose his temper, throw up sketches, toss sample garments, and yell at suppliers. But Karl's temper was like a storm, coming and going quickly. After he finished yelling, he might even invite you to dinner.

Virginie is not.

Virginie didn't get angry.

She would use the softest voice to say the most hurtful things.

Then there was no room for maneuver.

Emily's eyes reddened.

"Ms. Virginie, that's not what I meant. I absolutely did not mean to question you. I just..."

"So you're questioning Rhine? So you cut up Mr. Carl's hand-drawn sketch with scissors."

When Virginie said this, she placed her hand on the torn cuff of the sample garment.

"What you cut is not just fabric, but the craftsman's skill and our time."

She looked up at Emily.

His eyes showed no anger, no disappointment, no intense emotion.

Only peace.

A frightening calm.

"During your internship, were you taught to ask questions before starting work?"

Emily nodded, tears streaming down her face.

"I taught it."

"I don't remember," Virginia said for her.

Emily did not refute.

"Do you think Mr. Carl and I are showing too much favoritism towards Rhine?"

"No, I just..."

Virginia was silent for a few seconds.

The entire office was as quiet as a tailor's fitting room, with only the low rumble of the air conditioning system in the distance.

Then Virginia spoke up.

"Go to the workshop now."

Emily looked up, a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

"Apologize to Monica, then apologize to the embroiderers in the workshop, and then go to the personnel department."

Hope has vanished.

"Ms. Virginia..." Monica couldn't help but speak, wanting to say something.

Virginia didn't look at her.

"The replacement fabric for the cuffs of this sample garment is in the third cabinet of the accessories room. The color number needs to be changed. I need to see the new sample garment within three days. Monica, thank you for rescheduling the production schedule."

Monica opened her mouth, but ultimately only managed to say, "Okay."

Emily stood there, tears streaming down her face.

"I don't want it... I really need this job, Ms. Virginia, please..."

"Virginie, Emily is really talented. She's one of the fastest-promoted employees besides Rhine. Could you...?"

Virginia raised her hand to interrupt, then looked at Emily.

"I also need this sample garment to be finished before July. When you were cutting it, you didn't think that it also needed you... Also, rules are very important here."

Then she lowered her head, picked up a red marker, and continued marking the accessory options, indicating that the conversation was over.

Monica walked over to Emily, gently put her arm around her shoulder, and led her outside.

If it were Mr. Carl, he would start cursing, and Emily might stay after a good scolding. If it were Virginia... Monica knew that she was actually a very gentle and kind woman, and the whole workshop knew it, but the more such a person was, the more "extreme" the way she would be dealt with after her bottom line was crossed.

Emily can question Li Xun's abilities, and she can bring it up with Carl and her, but she shouldn't break the rules.

Li Xun's position within Chanel is indeed enviable, especially among the younger designers.

But they only saw Rhine's youthful vigor as she followed Karl and her, without seeing Li Xun's years of tireless efforts to improve his skills by running around the workshop every day, and without seeing the hardship of staying up all night for several days before the big show.

Virginie never imagined that Chanel actually had a designer who thought Li Xun, who could keep up with Karl Lagerfeld's show pace, wasn't capable enough...

You could say this is Li Xun's fault; he's usually too laid-back.

Virginia paused for a moment as the office door closed.

Her fingers trembled slightly.

It wasn't out of anger or sadness; she simply didn't like telling a talented designer "out," but she had to.