Laura Craik on Kim Kardashian's new stylist and the closing of Colette in Paris

Colette is closing and it feels like the end of something bigger than a chic Parisian boutique. It feels like the end of imagination and independence; another death knell for stores not owned by Inditex, the Perssons or a global luxury conglomerate. Saint Laurent is in talks to take over Colette’s plum Rue Saint-Honoré location, which is good news, and infinitely better than an estate agent. But there won’t be trainers you’ve never seen, music you’ve never heard, books you’ve never read, scented pens, designer fidget spinners, mini laser guns or a water bar selling 100 different types of bottled water.

To anyone wondering why I’m lamenting the loss of a Paris boutique in a London magazine: since its doors opened in 1997, Colette’s support of young British designers has been unwavering. Christopher Kane, Simone Rocha and Mary Katrantzou are but three of hundreds of London labels — many now shuttered — who owe co-owners Colette Rousseau and her daughter, Sarah Andelman, a world of gratitude. Unlike many department stores, Colette never bought the ‘safe’ clothes. It was one of the few boutiques with the balls to buy a designer’s most esoteric pieces. It was the opposite of #basic.

Lord knows #basic needs an opposite these days. London is so lucky to have Dover Street Market — a rare destination, like Colette, where all things rich, strange and beautiful can have a platform. If you have the money, buy. If you don’t have the money, window-shop and make your heart sing. ‘Colette cannot exist without Colette,’ says Andelman, explaining that after 20 years, her mother wants to retire. It closes as it opened as it lived: with rare integrity.

WILD KARD

Kim Kardashian has been spotted (left) with a vintage Prada nylon handbag.

I can deal with her dripping in current-season catwalk, because that is her function, but when she starts getting all clever-clever, I’m like: ‘Back off and leave this to the fashion nerds.’ Now that she has parted with longtime stylist Monica Rose, I’m wondering who’s behind this sudden and new-found love of obscure, anti-mainstream accessories. Kanye? With his taste for Off-White, Vetements and anything made of sweatshirt/canvas/sanforized Japanese denim, it wouldn’t surprise me. Forget Sex Tape Kim: we’re in a weird new age of Utilitarian Kim. Frankly, I’m not ready.

BANGERS AND CRASH

My husband pranged the car on Monday. ‘What have you done now, mum?’ said the man who came to tow her. ‘Sheesh with your sexism — just promise me you’ll look after Audrey,’ I told him. Audrey the Audi is the love of my life. Everyone told me I should buy an old banger; that in London, it was folly to drive a new car, what with the narrow roads and even narrower parking spaces. But who wants to drive an old banger? Besides, compared with Kate Moss’s £265,000 Rolls-Royce Dawn, Audrey is quite modest. She’s currently in Veetec garage, Neasden, and I’m in a courtesy car. ‘We’ve given you an upgrade,’ said Enterprise, presenting me with a giant Hyundai I’m terrified to park. Which got me wondering: what is the perfect London car? Probably a bike.