(BlackHeart2) BLACKSOUL

Chapter 5

        Today I learned how one goes about entering a private jet. You don't walk into the airport with the commoners. You have something called an FBO that handles all the private security checks. You wait in no lines. You enter the plane very quickly. All this was way out of my element, so I just followed along with the gentlemen who was meant to pick me up, and bring me to this airport in the first place. I didn't arrive with Karl or anything, so I just trusted this man would get me where I needed to be. And he did.

        I was still a bit awe struck when Julien, Karl, and a few people from Karl's team all entered the plane with me. Julien laughed at my face, and I can only imagine how my expression must read now. A private jet is smaller and much more lavish. Their seating looks more like sofas than actual uncomfortable airplane chairs. All fine leather of course, and most turn into beds for proper sleep.

There are tables in between the seats that face one another. Julien already sat down at one, and pulled out his laptop to do some work.

Private staff come and offer you a variety of things you didn't think you could get on an airplane. Whatever comes to mind when you think of a very famous fashion designer's jet is probably exactly what it looks like. I was overwhelmed by it all, and took a seat in the back corner where there wasn't so much movement. We have 6 plus hours in this plane, so I just wanted to get settled in. Maybe catch some sleep, so the time difference doesn't kick my ass when I arrive there. It'll be 8pm New York time, but 2am Paris time, which my body is still accustomed to.

        Because my name plays on the Italian equivalent to 'my flower' Karl's taken a liking to either calling me 'Fiore Mia' or 'my flower'. Technically 'Il mio fiore' would be the proper way to say that, but it still works with my name.  Because Karl speaks Italian, German, French, and English he knows the translation. It's become a kind of pet name for him.

The thing about Karl is that he lets misinformation be told about him, and doesn't correct it because he likes being elusive. He's an old man, but just how old is he? A few things to know about the man is that he was born in Germany, he isn't married and has no children, and that most of whatever you think you know about him probably isn't the whole truth.

The direct quote he said was, "The most important thing you should know about me is that everything you're told by others is not necessarily the truth."

        By no surprise the old man was in a high collar shirt, designer suit, with his gloves and glasses, and his signature ponytail. His mouth sags ever so slightly with age, but he's kept himself well maintained for being probably 80 years old. When he came to the back of the airplane, my eyes shifted up from where they'd been fixed on the small window for take off. We were in the air now, and things had settled down slightly.

Karl Lagerfeld has a German accent, but with the slightest hint of the French influence he has due to how often he actually speaks it. His English is spoken quickly at times and can be hard to understand if you aren't paying attention.

        The man likes visions and ideas, but hates reality and business. He's a designer. He leaves the rest to other markets. He doesn't touch business the way you'd think. It's all about creation for him. I like that. When Karl sat beside me on the plane I knew just about anything could come out of his mouth right now.  He's just that kind of a person. He can say something funny, controversial, or inspiring. Or he can ask me to pass him the salt, who knows. He might sit in front of you and draw a quick caricature that he's well known for.

Ah, another thing to know about Karl is his obsession with his cat. I'm not kidding, the networth of that cat is more than you could imagine. Her name is Choupette and she's better pampered than I've ever been. She's very cute, and Karl is very fond of her. He joked once that if he were to get married it'd be to the cat.