Limi Feu rolled out the hot pink carpet last week for her first Parisian venue, a purpose-shifting boutique- cum-showroom. The bright entrance was all the better to draw attention to the otherwise unmarked shop near the Rue Montorgueil in the 2nd arrondissement. Adhering to an ethos of unexpectedness—the space will morph into a showroom after January 17 and then into a different concept in late March—Yohji Yamamoto’s designing daughter hopes to be somewhat more “rock ‘n’ roll” with the space than the classical fashion retail canon dictates. While the designer’s two Tokyo shops offer fashions for women and children, the Paris outpost has only the former. Those wares include sharply cut femme fatale tuxedo vests, pristine white blouses, lush knits—and even a ribbed turtleneck collar delicately trimmed in rhinestones, all registering in the mid-to-high three-digit price range. “It’s very particular and artistic, but crisis aside it’s selling very well among the initiated,” said one sales girl on a recent visit.—Tina Isaac

Limi Feu, 13 Rue de Turbigo, Paris, 331-4028-4141

Photo: Milo Keller and Julien Gallico

One of the best things we’ve heard Karl Lagerfeld say is that his career is like that of a man on death row. That’s because, he explained, all his contracts—with Chanel, Fendi, and Lagerfeld Gallery—are rumored to be lifelong, “like a death sentence.” Not that the man would ever think about slowing down; the Kaiser is always looking ahead. In fact, word is that he’s already decided on the next two official stops for the double-C brand. In December, for the one-off collection he does with Chanel’s conglomerate of couture houses, he’ll be heading to Moscow for a line that will be called Paris-Moscow (previous collections in this vein have been Paris-London and Paris-Monaco). And then, next June, it looks like he’ll be in Venice for his 2010 Resort show. But no formal announcement has been made from Chanel, so don’t book your tickets quite yet.

Photo: Marcio Madeira

If you’re looking for proof that Gareth Pugh is not a wacky flash in the pan, here it is: Yesterday he was awarded a €150,000 (approximately $236,000) prize from ANDAM, France’s National Association for Fashion Development, which has previously recognized Martin Margiela and Viktor & Rolf. As part of his award, Pugh will be showing in Paris in September, which he’s pretty chuffed about. We reached him just as he was preparing to transform himself into a grasshopper for a British Vogue shoot with photographer Tim Walker (Tim Burton and Helena Bonham Carter were also there). “This is amazing,” Pugh said of his win. “It think showing in Paris is going to give the me necessary kick in the back side, and it’s also a change of scenery from London. I want longevity, of course, and I also want to be taken more seriously.”—Rebecca Voight

Photo: Marcio Madeira

Next year Philippe Starck plans to rock the establishment with a new take on “sexy, intelligent” luxury at Paris’ Royal Monceau palace hotel. But before rebirth comes destruction, and so last night Starck joined the hotel’s owner, Alexandre Allard, in hosting a Demolition Party at which a rumored 3,000 revelers were encouraged to help banish the old. Artsy hipsters, models in glittery costumes, and a Marie Antoinette look-alike mingled with guests in evening dress as they milled through 20 rooms specially commissioned from contemporary artists who decked out the empty spaces in spray paint, neon lights, bubble machines, hologram videos, and a bathtub equipped with a churning motorboat engine. It didn’t take long for door numbers to start vanishing and the echoes of shattered glass to resonate in the courtyard. Dominique Isserman and Charlotte Rampling took refuge in the VIP lounge, while guests such as Vanessa Bruno circulated enthusiastically. “Throwing aparty like this is brilliant,” commented Bruno. “Paris needed a shot of excitement.”—Tina Isaac

Photo: Royal Monceau Hotel

Having only two days in Paris, I dashed over to Saint Chappelle to see the spectacular stained-glass windows. I think this chapel blows Notre Dame out of the proverbial water in terms of delicacy of design, detail, and drama. There is more stained glass than wall—très jolie! I met friends back at the hotel for a glass of rosé Champagne, then it was off to dinner at Dav? for some fashion storytelling. After dinner we each rented a vélib’ (the terrific bicycle you can rent all over Paris) and cruised around the Marais in the warm nighttime air.

Tonight I’m hosting a dinner in the Bastille at my second favorite restaurant, Café de l’Industrie, for my friends in Paris. It’s a terrific place for a summer dinner party—full of nineteenth-century safari paraphernalia and dusty threadbare carpets. Hopefully it will not be too late a night; we’re all off to Athens early tomorrow!

It seems that every frat boy’s fantasy has come true. Word on the cobblestoned rue of Paris this week was about a certain recently formed supermodel couple. Backstage chatter revolved around one French Vogue-favorite stunner’s conversion to the “L Word” team with another tattooed catwalker. We’re of course not ones to gossip, so we won’t say who, but happy guessing!

London nightclub impressario and DJ Richard Mortimer brought his Boombox to Paris on Tuesday night, and while there may have been glossier parties elsewhere (Cavalli, Balenciaga), the young, hip, and flashily dressed—many of them from across the Channel—pressed into the tiny retro-kitsch bar La Perle to catch DJ acts by Jefferson Hack and Gareth Pugh. “I thought I would be [playing] in a nightclub, not the smallest, hippest bar in the Marais,” said Hack. “I also have to improvise with CDs because I thought it would be vinyls!” As he wound up a session featuring a mix of Burial (”you can’t get more now than that”) and Zig Zig Sputnik (”remember these guys from the eighties?”), Hack, when questioned on the high notes of the season, gave Paris points for going to extremes and praised the re-emerging Gothic trend. “Prada was a turning point, Balenciaga was fetishistic and exciting, Viktor & Rolf was playful and romantic—all extreme points of view that are a nice contrast to Milan,” he said as he handed over the turntables to Pugh. Asked what he was going to play, Pugh replied, “I have absolutely no idea.” And Paris rocked on.—Tina Isaac

Photo: Greg Kessler

It can’t be for a dearth of gossip, but PageSix.com is calling it quits. We wish we could say the same for its subjects, like rag regular Paris Hilton, whose attempt at humanitarianism looks awfully staged. Of course Paris still has her fans, some of whom go so far as to call her a post-feminist trailblazer. One girl who usually manages to stay on the good side of the tabloids is Lauren Conrad, which could be a very conscious branding move on her part. Like the Olsens before her, the star of “The Hills” has her eyes set on an empire. Another L.A. lady, Tori Spelling, has graciously offered her services to the buzzed-about “90210″ remake. Maybe she thought the producers wouldn’t know how to reach her? In New York, Oscar de la Renta’s right-hand man, Boaz Mazor, was waylaid by elephants on his way home, and claims to have been mistreated by the police. Maybe Mazor should have piled on the bling; a roundup of flashy world leaders makes the case that panache and power go hand in hand. No Chinese bigwigs made the list, but the country continues to be the destination of choice for over-the-top fashion spectacles. Ferragamo is celebrating its 80th anniversary at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Shanghai this weekend , and Yohji Yamamoto will use the Forbidden City as the backdrop for his next collection, giving Karl Lagerfeld’s Great Wall spectacle for Fendi a run for its money—all $10 million (estimated) of it.—Alison Baenen

Acne is on a roll: On the heels of the Swedish brand’s Greene Street opening in New York comes a Paris boutique in prime fashion territory, the Palais-Royal (also home to Marc Jacobs and Rick Owens boutiques). Personalized with flea market scores—vintage books, a mesh metal cabinet turned shirt display, and custom furniture such as racks with built-in lamps—the new space features Jonny Johansson’s best-selling jeans and this season’s new LUV model, the Acne Studio line, and a rack of flash pieces (currently miniskirts and mini-tops) selected from the Stockholm fashion show, which are deliberately more runway than reality. This may be a preview of things to come: The brand is said to be considering a Paris show. From the boutique, last night’s party moved around the corner to Le César, a club/restaurant famed for its late (make that early-morning) hours and performances by a transvestite performer known as La Mauvaise. Among the revelers: Lou Doillon, Lars Nilsson, and Alexis Mabille, the band Rock ‘n’ Roll, and Musée de la Mode curators Pamela Golbin and Olivier Saillard.—Tina Isaac

Photo: Courtesy of Acne

For those accustomed to the celebrity-driven, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it frenzy that passes for a fashion show nowadays, “Paris 1962″ (Empire Editions), photographer/director Jerry Schatzberg’s new book about two Yves Saint Laurent and Christian Dior couture presentations in the early sixties, will be a revelation. Schatzberg’s black-and-white photos capture an era when shows went on for hours, models did their own makeup, editors wore hats, and clothes were seen through a scrim of cigarette smoke (ashtrays are plainly visible among the gilt chairs in the salons). Originally conceived of as an assignment for Esquire, the photos have been gathered into a signed, limited-edition book that goes on sale today for $800. If that sounds like a lot—though a Schatzberg print is included in the package—a second version of the book will be published by Rizzoli in April for the more ready-to-wear-friendly price of $75. For more information or to place an order, see www.empireeditions.com.—Nancy MacDonell

Photo: Jerry Schatzberg, from “Paris 1962″