admin “They were taken years ago,” says Elson. “They were never published, but the National Portrait Gallery in London has them. I think at the time the images were too on-the-nose, too ‘Northern'”—in other words, too working class—”but I love them; they exist; this is real. The one of my dad is so special, so quintessentially him—I’ll have to tell him to go see them when the exhibition opens.” Her mum, meanwhile, will be coming to the Chanel show. “Talk about northern English parents,” Elson says, recounting their recent dinner. “My mum was like, ‘God, Karen, I can’t believe you’re still modeling—aren’t you too old for that? Why do they still work with you?’”
6:54 PM: Car to Old Trafford football stadium, Manchester
Elson, British Vogue’s Laura Ingham, and Instagram’s Eva Chen, among others, are on their way to see Manchester United play Chelsea at Man U’s home ground of Old Trafford. Conversation revolves around: Monday night’s British Fashion Awards—the general consensus is that it was wonderful to see the likes of the Sarahs Burton and Mower be honored, though the rain was an unsurprising downer (“My dress was still a bit damp the next morning,” says Elson, who was in a very Coco tinselly lamé Chanel); how to stay warm in the freezing cold (Chen just bought a supercool oversized knit hood from Primark); and instructions in how to take the perfect selfie, also courtesy of Chen, later outside the football stadium. Ingham laughs: “I need you to repeat all that!”
Elson—who’s in the vintage Chanel pants, as promised, plus a just-purchased-that-afternoon Barbour jacket to beat the weather, accessorized with a bright green Chanel purse—tells me her fitting went like a dream. The makeshift atelier is lined with colorful tweeds, bags in the shape of guitars or with chain straps inset with gems, and a sea of costume jewelry with enormous pearl drops, safety-pin-embellished necklaces, and strings of intensely colored, almost-neon beads.
The atmosphere is briskly efficient—but also convivial, collaborative and deeply, deeply chill. For a house of Chanel’s magnitude, it’s interesting to see how Viard leads it as a intensely focused yet approachable lead: At one point, Edie Campbell is being fitted in her look (spangly skirt and baseball cap) as Viard and a few assistants walk back and forth with a tray of bijoux which gets passed back and forth as they waltz around the room in perfect synchronization.
“The fitting was lovely—maybe the easiest Chanel fitting I’ve ever done, which is a real testament to Virginie,” says Elson. “They knew exactly what they wanted me in.” She will wear two looks—a vivid green suit with low black Mary Janes with jeweled straps (“It reminds me of pictures of mums in northern England from the ‘60s,” she says) and a “very, very Chanel” sparkly black dress. “Because it is Virginie, because it is Chanel, I know I will be in something appropriate. Have I sometimes said to some designers I won’t wear something because it doesn’t suit me? Yes—but this is different. I love what they asked me to wear in the show, and they’ve really respected me in that sense—that this is a homecoming.”
By this point, Elson and I, along with a phalanx of Chanel invitees, are making our way through the turnstiles to take our seats for the match. (Manchester United ended up triumphing over Chelsea, 2-1.) A particularly jovial security guard greets us as we file in. “How do I know that you are who you are?” he asks, and then answers his own question: “Handbags.”
