I’ve had divine communication. And maybe a bit of transcendence. Okay, maybe not in the most literal sense. Or, to be honest, maybe not by most people’s standards. But that’s not to say it wasn’t just as divine for me. After all, any fashionable who doubts the divinity of a floral jasmine-rose accord (Coco Mademoiselle, that is) and the healing powers of a tiny, quilted bag (the 2.55) is surely destined for some sort of fashion purgatory. But what a fabulously-outfitted purgatory that would be…
But before we get into my nearly-theistic Chanel-hosted weekend in Paris that I’m sure you’ve already read nuances about on Style Bubble and Cafe Mode, let’s go back to the middle of August. Sifting through my Junk mail folder as usual - which often means discarding the “JOB OPPRTOUNITY NOW” and “Ref. Number: 1378. Claim Your Winnings!” emails with the intention of a Merry Maid to tile scrum - when I stumbled upon an email with the title “CHANEL is flying you to Paris…” Like only a tech naïf would do (don’t remind me how many SPAM Dont’s I had just broken), I opened the email to read something about Chanel, yes, that of Coco’s heir, a flight to Paris, and a weekend extravaganza for bloggers. The email detailed nimiety in the truest sense. I responded quickly to Vicky, the sender and an ambiguous liaison with Chanel, offering up my personal information without as much of a blink of any eye (once again, don’t remind me of how many SPAM Dont’s I had just broken). Over the next few days, I was in correspondence with Vicky (the project manager from Chanel’s PR company for this event, I would later learn) about this amazing Chanel experience, but when I left for my Mediterranean cruise mid-August, I didn’t give much thought to this Chanel event. Nocciole-flavoured gelato has the power to do that.
It wasn’t until I checked my emails again in a poorly-lit Internet cafe (aren’t they all ‘poorly-lit’, though?) in Dubrovnik that I realized this was less hog wash and more haute couture reality than I imagined. Less than two weeks later, I boarded a plan from Toronto and flew business class (KLM Dutch airlines to Amsterdam, Amsterdam to France via Air France) for what was poised to be a two-day Chanel extravaganza (a sneak peak into the history and beauty of the iconic house and its founder) for a handful of the world’s luckiest bloggers.
Despite what Lagerfeld’s 2008 Chanel Cruise collection may have feigned us into believing, flying (even first class) is not the glamorous pastime it was once heralded to be. Whether or not it’s because I wasn’t flying on the Chanel Jet is an entirely different discussion. The one thing that remains glamorous, however, is the food: Mouselline of soft Dutch goat’s cheese, braised lamb with black truffle jus, and pumpkin canapes. Surely not the dietary recommendations of Kaiser Karl, himself, but unimaginably delicious even when it’s 1:30 am Toronto-time.
I arrived at the Paris Charles de Gaulle airport at 3:00 pm local time, where I was greeted by a well-suited, robust-looking man holding a ‘Chanel’ sign. Some would surmise that my otherworldly experience began when I stepped on the plane for Paris, but this moment seems more apt for such a salient marking. I think the Kanye West behemoth, more formally known as My Grossly Inflated Ego, was waxing lyrical in my brain at this point. I arrived at the hotel (The Westin on Rue de Castiglione) not long after, where I promptly decide that timber-fabricated ashrams in India are surely not the place to experience the divine. If I was going to feel the great Coco’s presence, then this was the environment in which to do it. 
Dinner was scheduled at 7:30 pm, so after a quick rest, a hedonic glee at the Chanel giftbag (above) with Coco Mademoiselle perfume, body lotion, and itinerary, and an obligatory exploration of my hotel room (never had dresser cupboards been so exciting), I dressed and headed to meet the others in the lobby. Already there were the lovely Ann from Blogdorf Goodman - her dark, richly-coloured cascading waves the only convincing Veronica Lake interpretation I’ve seen in years, the lovely Jean from Notcot, and the playful, uninhibited Valeriya from Fashion Addict Diary (and yes, the sharp, at times dry, humour of F.A.D. is evermore present in living flesh. That is NY fashion life, for you.). Along with the coordinator, Vicky, we headed over to meet some of the other bloggers staying in the adjacent hotel, which included the well-traveled and Betsy (a fellow journalist, but with a much more worldly CV; American-born, Asian-inhabiting) from Fashion is Spinach, Singapore style scout Foo from 
We walked over to Le Cafe Marly in the Richelieu wing of the Louvre Palace. Its beautiful stone archways cinematically framed I. M. Pei’s glass pyramid (The Da Vinci Code fiends, anyone?), although the all-French menu sent some bloggers into dear-in-headlights panic; crevettes, cotelettes d’agneau, and haricots suddenly seemed more daunting than the most prophetic indulgences of a new Ghesquiere collection.
Holy speechless. I can’t wait for part 2. I’ve never been so green in my life…
You didn’t. No, seriously. You didn’t. Oh my god!
Post the part 2 ASAP please!!!!
This is so great!
you are one lucky blogger