A chronicle of the interconnected lives of a group of people in the lead up to Paris Fashion Week.

Sergei: Don't turn around. Don't look at me. It's Sergio. Your Sergio. How much time has gone by? You're more beautiful than ever. I thought you were convinced that I was dead. How many years? 40? 42? How old were you?
Isabella de la Fontaine: Maybe 16 years old?
Sergei: 18, I think.
Isabella de la Fontaine: I was 15.
Sergei: You were my child bride.
Isabella de la Fontaine: We really were husband and wife
Sergei: [I remember] *not translated in subtitles*
Isabella de la Fontaine: And then - You left for Moscow on our wedding night.
Sergei: We were Communists. Remember?
Isabella de la Fontaine: You were a Communist. I was only 14 years old.
Kitty Potter: This is fucking fruitcake time. I mean - is that fashion, is it? I mean is there a message out there? I mean you got lot of naked people wandering around here.
[last lines]
[dialog is not as loud as the song and is difficult to follow]
Assistant to Milo: Trying to
[unintelligible]
Assistant to Milo: one is bigger than the other one.
Milo O'Brannigan: OK, go on. Put the diapers on the kids, will you?
Baby: Mama!
Milo O'Brannigan: Come on, Winnie. All right. I guess just about here is about right, okay. Try it there.
Assistant to Milo: [unintelligible]
Milo O'Brannigan: [overlapping] Okay?
Milo O'Brannigan: Hi, sweetie.
Assistant to Milo: The shadow or - and the sun? I know.
Milo O'Brannigan: Okay, let's go. Got it. Here, here.
Assistant to Milo: [unintelligible]
[shutter clicking several times]
[first lines]
[subtitled version - opening lines are in French, the English subtitles are a very rough translation]
Olivier de la Fontaine: [opening letter] Moscow? What's this about? Put that on the desk. Dear Mr. de la Fontaine: blah, blah, blah, blah... blah, blah, blah, blah...
Isabella de la Fontaine: [to dog] Robin. Robin. I told you not to! It's dirty. You shouldn't do that. Not in the house.
[to Olivier de la Fontaine]
Isabella de la Fontaine: You're a shit.