An open letter to Karl Lagerfeld

Dear Mr. Lagerfeld,

I hope you’re keeping well and things are wonderful in your fabulous world.

I am writing to you in desperation. Last year I bought a pair of your Ulla metallic leather high top sneakers from your first Karl collection. To say that I was excited when I saw them on Net A Porter rather understates my near hysterical reaction at the time. For other readers, and for a refresher of what they looked like when they were new, here’s a picture.


In other words flawless. They are my favourite shoes I have ever owned and consequently I have worn them almost daily since I got them last year. I have worn them with dresses, jeans, trousers, hell I would have worn them to bed if I could get away with it, such was their stunning perfection.

As a result my Ulla sneakers now look like this:

2013-03-26 19.24.13

Click on the above picture, Karl. See them in high resolution in all their cracked and shabby glory. I have worn them to death. Notice that black mark on the top of the left hand one? That is where my big toe is about to burst forth and say hello to the world. I can of course try to cover this with a bit of duct tape but DIY has never really been my forte.

Now I’m aware that my predicament is my own fault. I should have bought two pairs of them, but I didn’t know how much I would love them until I actually owned them. Of course by then it was too late. They were sold out in my size everywhere.

So Karl, here is the point of this letter. Please, in the name of all that is fashionable, bring back these trainers. I will buy two pairs next time as I have sincerely learned my lesson. And if you can’t bring them back, perhaps you could send one of your many assistants to have a snoop around your archives and see if there are any pairs left in a size 37? Of course I’ll pay for them.

Many thanks.

Your humble servant,

Alexandra Donald.


2 thoughts on “An open letter to Karl Lagerfeld

  1. Keith Donald

    I so wish I could write: Dear Alexandra, consider it done! Affectionately, Karl. But I can’t boohoo love, dad

    Sent from my iPhone

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