So there I was, at a dinner party when this older guy comes up to me and says, “May I take your picture? I am Karl Lagerfeld.” I shrug. Later on, I tire a bit from the party so I find a nice open convertible sports car to take a nap in.

Moments later, the old guy is jostling me, annoyed that I’m taking a nap in his car. I start to apologize but then he says, “Do you like to go fast?” I shrug and suddenly we’re tearing down a steep mountain road, engine redlining. Nervously, I glance over to see Karl Lagerfeld unbuckle his seat belt and start to open his door. Is he suicidal?! Is he trying to kill me?!

I only have moments to act and I leap out to grab the steering wheel but I realize it’s too late as we’re just about to slam into —

Then I wake up, heart racing, in a cold sweat, and it’s only then that it hits me … I have no idea who Karl Lagerfeld is.

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