Karl Lagerfeld Has Pants Covered In His Face, Still Hates Ugly People, And Continues To Be Notoriously Beloved
Let's play a game: I say, "Fat-shaming, Justin-Bieber-loving, Andy Warhol-esque photographer," and you say? If the answer isn't Karl Lagerfeld, well, I guess you've been living on Neptune for a couple of years. Because since calling Adele "a little fat" (a little too fat for what, exactly, is still unclear) in 2012, he's been on all our radars. If for no other reason than he just keeps saying stupid things. And stupid things sometimes make us laugh. To reign in 2015, Lagerfeld made headlines for shooting Justin Bieber shirtless (of course). But now, a whole 18 days into the new year, he's back again. This time, for hating ugly people — as clearly stated in Friday's New York Times profile of Brad Kroenig — otherwise known as Karl Lagerfeld's favorite male model.
The plain and simple reality is that the 81-year-old is a sucker for the cosmetic. He loves pretty things, and subsequently hates anything he deems unattractive. So, like I hinted at before, he's our very own Andy Warhol, equipped with quotes like, "I am basically the most superficial person in the world." And for all of these reasons and many more, it's no surprise that we have learned that his ugly-hating ways still live strong.
In a thoughtful piece on Elle , Nora Crotty details seven supposedly revelatory things we learned about Lagerfeld from this Times profile (a profile that, need I remind you, was meant to be about Brad Kroenig and the male modeling industry, but ended up being mostly about Lagerfeld — a fact that I am sure delights the latter). Perhaps most interestingly, we learned that Karl Lagerfeld has pants "covered in a microprint of his own likeness, which ran up and down the leg and, from far away, looked like a thick pinstripe." What's not so surprising: "I hate ugly people... Very depressing."
Never mind that "beauty" and "ugliness" are subjective terms — terms for which we all have unique and individual definitions for. And never mind that there is quite often magic to things some would consider displeasing or hideous (artwork made from common trash comes to mind). The thing is: Karl Lagerfeld is that guy. He's the designer, artist, photographer extraordinaire who we love to hate. He's the Chuck Bass of Chanel. If he wasn't as much of a narcissistic, superficial egomaniac with pants adorned in his face, he simply wouldn't be as interesting. And we would all move on. And then, well, I guess he'd be alone.