Love the element of performance in the sound box - the synch with the girls is risky - Etienne tells Guillaume backstage to up the tempo – the collection floods across the white sand in a wash of shell pink, coral, glistening sting ray and luminous sharkskin and abstracted fish scales. 

Rehearsal complete - the timing is crucial as the giant cockleshell has to open at the right moment for Florence to emerge and sing her siren song.

Drink too many espressos with Olivier Wicker from Liberation. We try and work out why Karl is such a perfectionist.

Good to see Freja and Stella - missed them this summer. Have long talk about tweed and woollen mills with Stella - every stitch has its story.

Panic - first outfits and I'm not in the sound box yet with Michel Goubert (the most privileged seat in the house - thank you Michel and Stephen, Etienne, Stephan and Florence's sound guys).

Here it is focused, controlled - Peter and Sam and their teams have been flat out since 5.30am – the girls look pearly, beautiful – their pearl piercings and scatter of pins in their hair look like drops of water.

9am - Walk into barrage of security at the Grand Palais - usual scramble to find backstage pass - thank smiling stalwart from Rue Cambon who waves me through. 

The collection is like a wave of refracted light and iridescence - think currents of phosphorescence, wind on water, sea spray - horizontal pleats, hologram chains, pearl piercings....and shells.

Crawled back from Paris and crashed. I feel incapable. Desk piled with accusations - so much undone or not even started. bad night after bad night. Wind banging the house.

Last gold before Winter's dark approach. Last of the roses. So many other things that I should be doing but I am drawn back to the garden and its passing splendour. I just sit and watch.

Paris grey - en route to the South for ad campaign..

Day one of Chanel ad campaign.

The weather switches on for Karl. Elemental Chanel by the sea.

I'm knackered after art party at VIP for Karl last night and an early flight to Nice this morning.

Going to swim in sea.

Went into the bowels of the Royal Academy on Saturday and discovered the drawing schools - a sense of the past - ghosts - and the very real acts of making that take place there every day. Strange feeling of "coming home". Going to try and sign up for a course.

On my way to Rome this morning - overcast heart. When I come back all the leaves will have fallen.

A murmuration of starlings swarm in the dusk over Rome. Followed the sound of birdsong and found singing trees leaved with birds...

Nino's -the 1930's panelled restaurant in Rome - best artichokes in the World. Love the attentive starched waiters with brilliantined side partings sneaking bitter chocolate sauce over my vanilla ice cream.

Smell of charred chestnuts in the streets, bells and seagulls laughing like old women over head.

Came back to black rain and a band of bagpipes at Euston station. My friend,the Angel of Death was there. A good welcome home.

Waiting to be shut down on flight to NYC. Nomadic. Very alone.

The rancour of romance in Paris. But it could be sweeter than it looks.

Flight from Paris begins. The Ritz is closing.

Chanel's show date for its metiers d'art spirit of India, Paris - Bombay.

The set at the Grand Palais is an elegant Moghul palace hung with chandeliers. A vast table piled with roses, tiers of fruits the colour of an 18c miniature, gilded glass and ropes of tuberoses. A silver train carrying decanters chugs around the perimeter of the table cloth. Karl has created his other world with genius set designer Stephen - alias Lulu.