We had walked by the Chanel windows a hundred times. The boutique was right next door. Katherine and I often paused to admire the beautiful and occasionally outrageous outfits. Then one day in early December, we saw something which took our breath away: there amidst the winter white ensembles and holiday decorations were scores of miniature Coco Chanel dolls. Each one was dressed in a classic Chanel suit trimmed in red, complete with perfect gold buttons, a gemstone brooch, and a signature Coco hat. It was love at first sight.
I knew it would make the most extraordinary holiday gift and keepsake for Katherine. What better memento from our sojourn in Paris for a little girl in love with all things fashion?
But the dolls weren’t for sale. Chanel never sells its display items we were told.
After pondering the dilemma for several days, I did the unthinkable. I brazenly contacted the owner of our flat to see if he might be able to help. He owned the entire building and Chanel had recently rented the third floor to use as a photography studio. Perhaps he would be able to direct me to the appropriate contact and I could inquire again. He assured me he would look into the matter.
After several weeks I began to lose hope.
Then, the night before we were due to leave, there was a knock at the door. It was M. Javal and his business partner. “I thought Muriel should share the news,” he said, “since she was the one who made it possible.” I held my breath as she explained that the doll was in her colleague’s office. It was to be properly packaged, a la Chanel, and would be shipped to our hotel in London. All they needed was the address. It is true that these items may not be purchased, she told me. The doll was a gift.
I wanted to cry. Maybe it was the stress of packing, or the fact that we were preparing to leave the city that I had come to love so much. Or perhaps it was the realization that two very busy people had spent considerable time and effort to help us make a Christmas memory.
As Katherine opened the box on Christmas morning I felt a wave of gratitude. She held her treasure but, in the end, it was I who had received the gift. I closed my eyes and sent a silent thank you across the Channel. Coco was coming home after all.
We had walked by the Chanel windows a hundred times. The boutique was right next door. Katherine and I often paused to admire the beautiful and occasionally outrageous outfits. Then one day in early December, we saw something which took our breath away: there amidst the winter white ensembles and holiday decorations were scores of miniature Coco Chanel dolls. Each one was dressed in a classic Chanel suit trimmed in red, complete with perfect gold buttons, a gemstone brooch, and a signature Coco hat. It was love at first sight.
I knew it would make the most extraordinary holiday gift and keepsake for Katherine. What better memento from our sojourn in Paris for a little girl in love with all things fashion?
But the dolls weren’t for sale. Chanel never sells its display items we were told.
After pondering the dilemma for several days, I did the unthinkable. I brazenly contacted the owner of our flat to see if he might be able to help. He owned the entire building and Chanel had recently rented the third floor to use as a photography studio. Perhaps he would be able to direct me to the appropriate contact and I could inquire again. He assured me he would look into the matter.
After several weeks I began to lose hope.
Then, the night before we were due to leave, there was a knock at the door. It was M. Javal and his business partner. “I thought Muriel should share the news,” he said, “since she was the one who made it possible.” I held my breath as she explained that the doll was in her colleague’s office. It was to be properly packaged, a la Chanel, and would be shipped to our hotel in London. All they needed was the address. It is true that these items may not be purchased, she told me. The doll was a gift.
I wanted to cry. Maybe it was the stress of packing, or the fact that we were preparing to leave the city that I had come to love so much. Or perhaps it was the realization that two very busy people had spent considerable time and effort to help us make a Christmas memory.
As Katherine opened the box on Christmas morning I felt a wave of gratitude. She held her treasure but, in the end, it was I who had received the gift. I closed my eyes and sent a silent thank you across the Channel. Coco was coming home after all.
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