Despite rumors of lavish excess, a staff of personal servants and even her own chef, Choupette’s reality is much less extravagant: she lives quietly with Lagerfeld’s longtime former maid in a Paris apartment.
When the people behind the Let-Them-Eat-Cake orgy of excess known as the Met Gala announced 2023’s event would honor the late designer Karl Lagerfeld, the natural question was whether Choupette would show up.
The Birman cat with striking blue eyes was the German fashion designer’s most beloved muse, and he was so besotted with her that he included her in almost everything he did.
Evangelista Choupette Vogue cover
If Lagerfeld wasn’t photographing the fluffy feline in the arms of the world’s best known supermodels or bringing her as his plus-one to fashion world events, he was pining for her presence: she was his favorite subject in interviews, for which he had no shortage of superlatives to describe her.
Initially the plan was not only to include Choupette in the Met Gala fundraiser honoring the memory of her “daddy,” but also to pair her with that timeless icon of taste and high culture, Kim Kardashian.
So Kardashian, working with Choupette’s agent (yes, she really does have one), traveled to Paris to meet with the imperious kitty.
It did not go well.
The ill-fated meeting. Credit: Hulu
The organizers think Choupette did not like the sound of Kardashian’s synth leather jacket, but I like to think the pampered puss found Kardashian too artificial even for the circles she and her late human moved in.
Regardless, after several bouts of prolonged hissing and a lunging attempt at clawing the reality TV star, both parties called a halt and decided Choupette would not be attending the gala.
This detail, along with other interesting tidbits, were revealed in a story published by The Atlantic today.
The lengthy article provides a little more background on how Lagerfeld was instantly converted into a cat servant, as well as a breakdown of the situation involving Lagerfeld’s will.
In short, while everyone in the know agrees Lagerfeld did put aside a considerable sum for his beloved feline’s continued care and comfort, a tax dispute between the French government and his estate has effectively frozen disbursement of Lagerfeld’s money, assets and real estate.
Lagerfeld with Choupette. The designer died in 2019.
An expensive piece of property owned by Lagerfeld is in Monaco, attorneys for his estate contend. French authorities naturally disagree, insisting it’s technically in France, which means there’s a substantial back tax owed.
French law does not allow animals to inherit money, so the sum Lagerfeld intended for Choupette was willed to her caregiver. Not a single Euro has been paid out as lawyers haggle over the tax issue.
Choupette isn’t on the street or anything close to a pauper. She remains in the care of Lagerfeld’s longtime maid, Françoise Caçote, who was the feline’s primary caretaker in the German designer’s absence. They live in a comfortable apartment in Paris, where Choupette eats and naps well, and is watched over by Caçote, her husband and children.
Media reports of a vast fortune, a personal chef serving up gourmet cat food and a round-the-clock team of professional pamperers do not reflect reality, but Choupette doesn’t care.
“The most important thing is that she’s happy, surrounded by love and affection, and protected as Karl would have wanted,” Caçote told The Atlantic’s Chris Heath.
While Choupette skipped the Met Gala, actor Jared Leto went all out with a costume that captured her look.
For Choupette, that’s all that matters. Max Renneisen, a German artist who has painted portraits of Choupette, pointed out our remarkable ability to turn animals into anthropomorphic characters. (A sin I’ve never been guilty of, obviously. Little Buddy dictates his musings and I merely serve as stenographer.)
“All the fuss we do about her, all this concept of celebrity, giving a meaning to her, everything—this is us, for the humans,” Renneisen observed. “Choupette is not a diva. She’s a cat, and we want to see the diva in her.”
The Europeans aren’t messing around when it comes to noise on public transportation, and a loud pet can cost you.
Note to self: Never take Buddy on a French train, unless I want to be out a few hundred bucks by the time I reach my destination.
That’s my takeaway after coming across this story about a woman who was fined €110 (about $130 in ‘Merican dollars) by the French National Railway Company after another passenger complained that her cat was causing “acute tensions” by vocalizing.
Naturally, the passenger and the railroad have two different versions of events. Camille, who was identified only by her first name, said she’d purchased a ticket (about $8) for her cat, Monet, and had the feline in a carrier for the trip from Vannes, Brittany, to Paris, per railroad rules.
Monet “meowed a bit at the start” at the beginning of the journey, Camille admitted, but wasn’t excessively loud.
“Loud? I’m merely expressing my displeasure with the level of service around here!”
Railroad operators said there were multiple complaints, not just one, and claimed a conductor asked Camille and her boyfriend, Pierre, to switch to a mostly-empty car as a compromise with other passengers.
A conductor ticketed Camille when she declined the “simple and common sense solution,” according to French broadcaster BFM.
I’ve joked in the past about sedating the Budster before flights so the other passengers won’t toss him out at 40,000 feet, but there’s truth at the heart of it: Buddy is a naturally chatty cat, he’s got strong opinions, and he doesn’t hesitate to share them with anyone.
Of course you don’t want your companion animal to create a scene or make other passengers uncomfortable. I still wince when ai think about the woman who forced fellow passengers to endure the smell, proximity and potential defecation of her “emotional support horse,” and when people began abusing the privilege of going places with emotional support animals (emotional support alligator, anyone?), it was only a matter of time before companies that operate common spaces — be they in a fuselage, a baseball stadium or a grocery store — tightened the rules to avoid conflict.
Still, unless the cat was wailing, or Camille really did refuse to switch seats, a $130 fine is excessive.
Just something to think about for those of us who have plans to travel with our cats.
Header image of a cat cafe train car in Japan, credit: Wikimedia Commons
Buddy the Cat’s quest for world domination has moved into the realm of music. Listen to the new single here!
NEW YORK — Buddy the Cat made history as the first feline to top the charts in multiple genres this week with the release of “Move Your Ass” by The Buddies.
Listen to it here, but before you do, make room to get funky. (“And use proper headphones or speakers please!” Buddy says. “Don’t do us dirty by playing it through a phone or a laptop. You’ll miss all the bassy goodness that makes it funky!”)
The incredibly funktacular nu-disco track pays homage to the talented feline, who played guitar, bass, keyboards and percussion, while his human assisted him with certain particulars that required an opposable thumb.
“Obviously I could have done this on my own,” Buddy says, “but I like my human to feel like he’s involved in things, you know? Camaraderie and all that. But for future documentaries, ‘Behind the Music’ episodes and other retrospectives, it should be clear I’m the musical genius and the talent. The brains and the brawn, so to speak. Also the beauty. Obviously.”
“Move Your Ass” hit the top of Japan’s pop charts after an early release on Jan. 20 in that country, while it’s dominated the dance music charts in Luxembourg, the Principality of Sealand, Monaco and France. After its Jan. 30 release in the US and UK, it was steadily climbing the charts on Spotify and terrestrial radio.
Asked about his musical influences, Buddy waxed poetic about the funk, disco, French house and nu-disco he grew up listening to.
“From my earliest days of kittenhood, I remember Big Buddy playing Earth, Wind and Fire, Kool and the Gang, McFadden and Whitehead, The Brothers Johnson, Daft Punk, the Galactik Knights and Televisor. I love Televisor! I would dance around and joyfully smack my human on the head, then go hide in his shoes.”
Buddy’s already hard at work on his next single, which he promises “will be just as delicious as this one.”
The outrage over the death of a pet cat may be the best barometer of Russia’s national mood as its disastrous war on Ukraine enters its third year.
For the past two years I’ve had a lurid hobby. I’ve been watching translated clips from the bizarre world of Russian state TV, where Vladimir Putin’s pet propagandists tell the Russian people what to think.
There’s ringleader Vladimir Solovyov, a guy who dresses like the admiral of a galactic fleet of military starships and is prone to wild mood swings. Depending on when you catch Solovyov he could be cackling maniacally at the prospect of nuking London or crying into his microphone as he laments the loss of his overseas bank accounts and his boss’s slipping grip on power.
There’s Margarita Simonyan, the 43-year-old head of RT (Russia Today) and rumored alcoholic who, strangely, is even-keeled compared to Star Admiral Solovyov.
Then there are the second-tier propagandists: Olga Skabeeva, the “Iron Doll of Putin TV” who matter-of-factly endorses horrific war crimes, and men like Anton Krasovsky, who famously fantasized about drowning Ukrainian children in the Tysa River, a tributary of the Danube, his desk rising three inches as he excitedly repeated “Just drown those children, drown them!” Apparently he forgot he was on television and said the quiet part out loud, forcing his boss (Simonyan) to grudgingly condemn his words.
Margarita Simonyan, left, and Vladimir Solovyov, right, are two of Russia’s most famous pro-Putin propagandists. Credit: Russian state TV
Solovyov, Simonyan and the others looked like a bunch of investors celebrating the sale of a billion-dollar company during the opening phases of the war in early 2022, giddily playing footage of Russian missiles taking out Ukrainian apartment buildings and artillery flattening hospitals.
Their rhetoric was extra-dimensional at the time: they spoke often of a glorious New World Order with Russia at its head and all of humanity united under Putin’s tiny feet, where people would undoubtedly conclude that life under Russian masters is better than any over-hyped concept of freedom.
When Russia faltered and Ukraine began stringing together victories with the help of western weapons and real-time intelligence from the US and UK, the tone of Putin’s propagandists grew bitter. Their body language mirrored their frustration. Solovyov began a tradition of threatening to nuke a different country every day, for “crimes” like acknowledging the reality of Russia’s military incompetence or calling for peace.
To date, Solovyov’s threatened to nuke the UK, France, Spain, Germany, Italy, Japan, Finland, Sweden and the US, and that’s just off the top of my head. He especially hates the British for reasons that aren’t entirely clear, but he regularly makes it clear that it’s only through Putin’s benevolence that cities like London and Paris continue to exist.
He’s also extremely fond of Tucker Carlson: he plays clips from Carlson’s show on X regularly, offered him a job after the American was fired by Fox News, and has declared him the greatest journalist in the western world.
In Putin Russia, cat feed you!
I thought of that motley crew of Putinious jackwagons this week as I read about the Russian public’s horrified response to an incident on a train.
A couple was traveling on a Russian Railways train to St. Petersburg when their beloved cat, Twix, escaped his carrier. The frightened ginger tabby just kept running until he was scooped up by a female conductor, who unceremoniously tossed him into the snow in Russia’s frigid Kirov Oblast. Temperatures regularly dip into the single digits and below zero in the winters there.
On Jan. 20, after a search joined by hundreds of people, little Twix’s body was found in the snow about a half mile from the train tracks. The feline, who was used to safety and warmth, suffered multiple animal bites and died either from his wounds or the temperature.
Twix the cat in a photo from his family that was reposted to a Russian Telegram channel.
To say Russians are furious is an understatement.
Twix’s fate has been the talk of Russian social media platforms for days. Surveillance camera footage of the conductor tossing the tabby ignited a new level of rage. As of Wednesday more than 300,000 Russians had signed a petition calling for the firing of the conductor, whose name hasn’t been released by the state-owned passenger railroad company. A second petition goes further, calling for criminal prosecution, and has 100,000 signatures in just a few days.
Public outrage about the fate of Twix just might be the first authentic sentiment to reach Russian media in years.
In an unusual move, the government acquiesced — partly — to the public’s demands and pulled the conductor from duty pending an investigation. They’ve also acknowledged that Twix’s humans had properly purchased a pass for him and were riding in a car designated for passengers with pets. In the future, they’ve vowed, conductors won’t toss animals from trains.
Russia is a famously cat-loving country. Felines comprise more than 64 percent of all pets kept by Russians, and more than half of all Russian households have pet cats. They’re considerably more popular than dogs in the nation of 143 million.
Cats are popular in Russian folklore, where traditions say the furry ones have the power to ward off evil, and they’re a much more convenient pet for the millions who live in Soviet-era apartment blocks in cities like Moscow and St. Petersburg.
Still, this feels like something more.
Russians haven’t had an easy two years thanks to Putin’s disastrous “special military operation.” They can face years in prison simply for calling for peace with Ukraine. Unless they’re part of the nation’s elite or have connections among them, men can’t leave the country because the military needs more warm bodies. The country’s economy is in shambles as the government pumps more money into the war and international sanctions have taken their toll.
A Russian tank laden with loot, including a toilet, rolls past the ruins of residential buildings in Popasna, a city in eastern Ukraine.
The government has canceled or downplayed annual military celebrations so the public won’t be reminded of the war’s costs. Russia is on pace to lose an astonishing 500,000 men in two years of combat, according to the UK’s Ministry of Defense, and Putin has tried to stem the anger of the country’s mothers by staging several meetings with actresses posing as the moms of Russia’s war dead, events which have been heavily covered by state press.
Russians can’t oppose the war they’re dying in. They can’t mourn their dead fathers, sons, brothers and husbands, not by revealing their real emotions.
Quality of life has further degraded in a country where tens of millions don’t even have indoor plumbing, which is why there have been so many clips of Russian soldiers stealing toilets, washing machines and other appliances from Ukrainian homes. The prospect of being pulled off the street, sent for two weeks’ worth of rudimentary training and deployed as cannon fodder hangs heavy over the heads of Russian men and their families, especially ethnic minorities and the poor.
But Twix? They can mourn him. They can get angry about what happened to him. The furious public sentiment regarding his death wasn’t manufactured by Solovyov and company. State TV didn’t spark the backlash, it was forced to acknowledge it.
I’m neither a Russophile nor an expert on that often difficult-to-understand country, but I’d bet all my rubles that those dueling petitions say more about the Russian mood than any opinion poll to come out of Russia since 2022, and definitely more than the words of anyone allowed to express an opinion on Russian TV.
If you’re a house cat, your human’s death is just about the worst thing that could happen to you.
Cats are often left to grieve on their own, without any consideration from surviving relatives who may not like animals or cats in particular.
Treated as an afterthought, with no one to comfort or reassure them, those scared cats then endure another trauma when they’re taken from their homes and placed in tiny shelter cages. Depressed and shocked, they’re easily overlooked in shelters.
That’s why it’s heartening to hear about a French woman who drove with her boyfriend from Paris to Cavaillon in southern France to adopt her late grandmother’s beloved cat, Felix. That’s a drive of 708 kilometers — or about 440 miles in the proper ‘Merican measurement of distance — and almost the length of the country.
Adding to the challenge was the fact that Felix had never travelled before, the woman — who posts as @felixthegoateecat — noted.
“My grandmother was the nicest person,” she wrote. “She always fed Felix because she was always afraid he was hungry.”
Felix
It’s pretty clear the late grandmother and Felix had a special bond, and her granddaughter understands that.
She wrote about the process of allowing him to adjust to his new people and surroundings, and documented milestones like the first time he made biscuits in his new home.
So far, it looks like Felix is settling in just fine in his new life as a city cat.
Pain In The Bud 