Dear Fashion Universe,
In all of your crystal-studded, diamond-encrusted (in a non-bedazzled way, mind you) glory, I did not think you heard me until this very day but alas, hark, beholdeth and all of that I find on this golden diaphanous afternoon, you may have in fact listened.
I came home to a multitude of daily fashion news emails because, well, I roll like that (don't worry, world at large, I also read the real news) to find that my-heaven-known-as-Marc-Jacobs (for that is what I call him) may be the successor to the throne of the reigning house of all that is correct and perfect in fashion, Dior. I'm not going to lie, and maybe it's the pregnancy hormones, but I felt a little tear well up in my eye. I felt like a mother who had just watched her baby graduate from Harvard, Yale...Parsons? Granted, I think Marc is technically older than me but having been a huge Marc watcher/fan since his shabby-geek chic days at Perry Ellis, I kind of feel like he's family (and, no, not in some "get security" kind of way).
It's the perfect marriage of my favorite designer and my favorite house. Not to say that it's all about me, but maybe my positive vibes and happy thoughts about the two of these fashion supremes rippled across sea waves and miles of terrain to reach the powers that be at LVMH. Well my good vibes and the probably mile long analysis of possible revenue to be had.
Given how painful the last Dior show was to watch (immediately following the removal of he-who-shall-not-be-named....come on folks, I'm a good Jewish girl. I can forgive him, but forget? Not so much...) maybe they'll announce this decision as a final one sooner rather than later.
Let's cross our fingers. Marc Jacobs at Dior? I can see decades of fashion history literally ricocheting off the runway like 1,000 chards of airborne shattered glass.
All hail the new King of Fashion. Hand the man his crown.