I walked up and down the street where he allegedly lived. I lingered in the bookstore that he launched to sell books of his images. I found lists of shops he liked and visited them. I went to exhibitions that he put on. And when I was lucky enough to be in Paris during a Chanel show, you would know exactly where to find me, lurking around the Grand Palais. Let me tell you, reader, for a young fashion lover, there is nothing so intoxicating as an obstructed glimpse of the Chanel runway. I waited in the rain, longing for Karl to come out, but I never saw him.

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