In Vogue’s April issue, Sally Singer hung out with Zoe Kravitz and Olivia Thirlby while they searched high and low for clog boots.

Though no one, from Alex Wang to Opening Ceremony knew what she was talking about, Olivia insisted, “I’m bringing back the clog.”

To which we thought, “No thank you.”

And then of course they stomped their way down Chanel’s runway and forced us to think about them again. So here we are a couple of weeks later, split down the middle. Last night over post-party pizza I told Faran I’d never ever wear clogs. Ever. She gave them a resounding, “Hell yes.” (Though she’s had this debate before.)

Intern Alyssa says no, “They’re ugly and unflattering. Maybe a step up from Crocs,” and intern Kate agrees, “When I was little I had them in lots of different colors to match my outfits. But my mom dressed me, so I had no free will.”

—JEREMY KOST

Chanel starts at 10:30 am.

Cross the Pont Alexandre III to the Grand Palais. Graciously accept my pre-show goodie bag of Chanel No.5, though wish I had coffee to go with it.

Realize how serious it is that I’m at Chanel, especially when Lauren Santo Domingo graciously accepts her not-front-row seat. Notice that she positions herself right behind Emma Watson, guaranteed picture placement that way. Zoe Kravitz, Mario Testino, Claudia Schiffer and Clemence Poesy squeeze into same row.

Stare at the giant 31 Rue de Cambon facade. Our House blares. Everyone giggles. Karl sends tweed suits, black stockings and frothy gowns down the runway. A lot of it is, all together now, SHEER.

Coco is here! She’s hiding underneath a black veiled hat. Between the girls and Karl’s bow, boys emerge. Five, including Sebastian, wearing tight suits and beacoup des bijoux.

Our House plays again, Karl prolongs his bow and the glass ceiling shakes with the roar of the audience.

A perfect conclusion, for me at least, of Paris Fashion Week.

Sorry if this post is less coherent than usual.

My head’s still reeling from Lenny Kravitz saying, “Hey baby,” when he squeezed in front of me at Rick Owens and we took each other’s picture.

I thought the show was starting late because Carine was on the phone, but it was Lenny and rockstar daughter Zoe, sporting some serious extensions, holding up the smoke explosion that introduced Mariacarla Boscono.

The clothes? Impossibly cool, of course. Owens designs for the woman who doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks because she knows she’s wrapped in otherworldly leather - and she’s used to heads turning wherever she goes. It was fascinating, and a bit intimidating, to be in a room full of his heavily booted fans cheering on his barely there Spring designs and nun-like headgear.

And yes, that’s Irina in her first show of the season. She showed up backstage half an hour before the 5 o’clock start time, got kicked out for smoking inside and had to be dragged back in for hair and make-up.