The duties of a Chanel Brand Ambassador include, but are not limited to, accepting copious amounts of free clothes, attending parties in obscure European coastal towns, and maintaining an Olsen Twin physique at all cost. It’s a sinecure post, to be sure, but an important one that separates the It Girls from the women and ensures that youth and pulchritude are duly rewarded, in accordance with the values of current society (I hear the MacArthur Grant application process is going to include a swimsuit portion next year).
Seeing as It Girls must possess at least some sort of filmy skillset (DJ, muse, rock progeny, model/blogger, “editor-at-large”) and are elected by popular vote, the qualifications for becoming an CBA are much more codified, because in the end, you really will be getting paid to do nothing. Let’s take a look at the arduous process:
- After appearing at a sufficient number of important parties and in a sufficient number of important fashion blogs, you will get a call from a Chanel representative saying that they would like to have a meeting with you at their offices in Paris. This is an accomplishment in and of itself, because the amount of approval you receive from the fashion world is inversely proportionate to the amount of approval you receive from Us Weekly. If you ask how you are supposed to get to Paris, you’ve already failed the interview.
- If you make it to Paris, you will be asked to show the pinkslip to your car. This is a trick question. Fashion people don’t have cars. Do not show them your pinkslip.
- You will be placed in a pen with several models and observed on how you interact with them. Remember, the only reason you’re here in the first place is that you’re not quite attractive enough to be a model. That’s okay, but you should be able to hold your own around them. Be confident, be charming, be best friends with them and make silly faces when you’re getting your picture taken with them. Fan out that je ne sais quois. You’re really being judged on your je ne sais quois at this point, and I cannot stress enough how important it is to have it, whatever the fuck it is.
- You will be given a physical, which consists of measuring your bunions to make sure you can handle wearing vertiginous designer shoes everyday. Anything less than ¾” in diameter simply won’t do.
- You will be subject to a staring contest with Karl Lagerfeld. This is a decisive moment. If you win, you may continue onto the next phase of the interview, but if you win by too wide a margin and make him laugh, you will either be killed or given a 401(K). There’s really no way of knowing.
- Finally, you will be thrown into a lake. If you drown, your family will receive a conciliatory bottle of Moët-Chandon, but if you emerged unscathed, congratulations! You will be summarily issued a 2.55 lambskin handbag and instructed to report to a gesticulation workshop.
So there you have it, and I must add, though I’m sorry to say, the only way the rest of us are getting into the good graces of the fashion world is to do aim for echelons that are so high up the general population will be mostly unaware of your existence. You must only come out to the one or two most significant parties of the year, spend the majority of your waking hours in the fashion archives of the MOMA and FIT and have a master’s degree in Art History. Your income will come mainly from collaborating with artists on conceptual projects masquerading as fashion campaigns, or editing one of those 10-pound coffee-table magazines that are published once a year and cost €75. You will become incredibly overweight due to a nagging fondness for La Bonnotte potatoes.
Sounds pretty sweet, actually.