I'm very sure that 80% of Balenciaga profits goes into fabric research. They probably even have their own research and development department and this is what happens everyday:
"Now, make me a new fabric that's light as chiffon but I want it to be very structured and have plenty of volume, VOLUME!!! MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!!! I need it for the Fall collection!" Nicolas Ghesquiere comes into the room, stroking his whip in his hand and occasionally snapping it in the air, producing a loud "ktsh, ktsh, wtshh" sound.
"This is not couture, for God's sake. Am I really asking too much? Am I reaching for the stars here? Not really. If Alexander McQueen can produce a Spring 2010 collection that got Anna wanting for more, I honestly don't seem why I can't. He has these aliens from the planet of "IHateFashion" to work for him and if you people can't produce a new fabric every hour, I'm gonna have to employ the Oompa-Loompas." Nicolas Ghequiere cracks the whip for the hundred thousandth time. (Yes, there are actually workers who are quietly counting the number of times he cracks the whips).
"And you," Nicolas Ghesquiere points to a meek old lady in the far corner knitting a jersey for his Fall Collection, "I said that I did not want cashmere for that sweater. Cashmere is so Jil Sander-ish. Make that jersey in a new fabric, something soft like chiffon, and thick like mohair."
"But...."
"Darling, you don't work for Angela Missoni anymore. You won't find any hint of love here. Nor will you be expecting me to invite you over for dinner, my dear."
"Lilo let's be serious. You are not trying. You are whining. What is that you want me to say to you, huh? Do you want me to say, "Poor you. Nicolas is picking on you. Poor you. Poor Lilo?" Wake up. I'm just doing my job. Don't you know that you are working at the place that published some of the greatest artists of the century? Ungaro, Givenchy, de la Renta. And what they did, what they created was greater than are because you live your life in it. Well, not you, obviously, but some people. You think this is just another dumb old fashion house, hmm? This is not just any other fashion house. This is a shining beacon of hope for... oh, I don't know...let's say a young boy growing up in Loudon, a small town in France with six brothers pretending to go for fencing practices when he was really going to sewing classes and reading Vogue Paris under the covers at night with a flashlight. You have no idea how many legends have walked these halls. And what's worse, you don't care. Because this place, where so many designers at Central Saint Martins would die to work you only deign to work. And you want to know why I don't kiss you on the forehead, give you a gold star on your homework at the end of the day and offer you a 50% off Balenciaga merchandise. Wake up, sweetheart.
"Now why did that sound so familiar." Lilo mumbles under her breath.
"You low, miserable fools had better invent a new fabric by twelve midnight. And be thankful that you are not working for Karl. Do you know how many Chanel 2.55s they have to sell, just to cover the law charges against them over the deaths of their workers. And no, they don't just die of overworking." Nicolas Ghesquiere walks across the room, with the ominous-looking whip brushing against the faces of the workers as he walks past.
The End. (This story is just my fantasy going wild and it's mainly for humour.) I still love Balenciaga and Nicolas Ghequiere.
What was suppose to be a review turned out into a long boring story. I think I'll save the review for later.
