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Fashion Fanfic: The Birth Of Karl Lagerfeld's Monster (Choupette Collection)

It is quite apparent that Karl Lagerfeld adores his cat, Choupette, more than anything in the world. He's dedicated a capsule collection to her, gotten her a Shu Uemera makeup line, and raves about her more frequently than other people rave about their human children. The latest Karl-designed project featuring Choupette is a Monster Choupette collection for his eponymous line and, TBH, a little out of the ordinary. While we don't know the full scoop behind what inspired the borderline-terrifying sweatshirts, bags, and wallets, we can imagine how it all went down in the latest horror story installment of Fashion Fanfic. Enjoy!

There was a knock at the door. Though Karl was busy showing Choupette how to play Words With Friends on her iPad, he knew there was work to be done.

"You may enter."

A young man scampered in. "Monsieur, we really must start thinking about your next collection for the line. I know you've been working tirelessly on your shows for Chanel and Fendi, but we simply can't put off working on the Karl line any longer."

Karl knew Jacques was right—the KL line did need to make a splash. The inspiration behind the new collection was obvious—it was sitting right in front of him, using an iPad.

"The collection will, of course, be based around Choupette. She is the one."

Jacques figured. The previous capsule collection was also Choupette-themed, bien sûr, but he didn't know how this one would be different. Whatever, he thought. Karl Lagerfeld was Karl Lagerfeld for a reason, right? He excused himself. Karl barely looked up—when Choupette was around, it was hard to pay attention to anything else.

As the door shut, Choupette nipped at Karl's leather-gloved hand. The cat rarely acted out, but when she did, it took Karl by surprise—he did not like it. He had made her life perfect—not just in cat-terms, but human ones too. She had two maids and a driver. She had 24-hour medical attention. And still, she acted like an animal from time to time.

Sure, in interviews he would say she's the greatest. How she only communicated using her eyes, never making a noise. The truth was, though, sometimes he worried about being alone with her. Had he given her too much? Should she be free to make the same mistakes other cats make? Did she even appreciate the Goyard bowls she ate from? Did she know that not all cats ate at a table? That not all cats got daily croquettes? He frequently referred to her as a "spoiled princess," but, honestly, she was more like a tyrant.

Then it struck him: That's what the collection would depict. The other side of Choupette.

Karl grabbed his sketchbook from his beside table. He sketched a cat with white fur, eyelashes, and a fire engine red snarl.

"Ah, ma petite, look at how frightening you can be. Now the world will know. And they will be lucky to experience you."

He realized something was missing. He held the sketch in front of his face, switched his focus, and then turned back to the drawing. He grabbed his pencil and sketched a collar around her long, thin neck. "Rhinestone Embellishment," he wrote in bold. This was still Choupette, after all.