The polaroid has always fascinated me with its immediacy and its character as something instantaneous and irreproducible. It always goes hand in hand with an impulse, a way of freezing time. As a photographer for Christian Lacroix I work with his mannequins. They are beyond question the most beautiful girls in the world, but also the most photogenic; and with them I have sought, systematically and obsessively, to immortalise myself – they justify my desire to leave my mark on time, which seems to fly even faster in the world of fashion. I am constantly intrigued by the insolent beauty of these girls made up as women. They make me think of actresses from the silent era. Once I give the signal and they are out on the catwalk, they turn into femmes fatales: Marie-Antoinettes, Arlésiennes, Jolies Madames, African Queens, Madonnas – or whatever other interpretation of woman Christian Lacroix has come up with. A mannequin’s career being shorter and shorter these days, there are more and more of them every year for the top model game of musical chairs, a game with no rules and no laws. The Polaroids recount their arrival, their progress and then the physical changes they undergo. Their careers are Polaroids: immediate and instantaneous. Some of my series show me working with the same mannequin at different points in her career. Time leaves its mark on my face via my beard and haircut; with them, only the makeup and the hair change. Bedecked with artifice, these girls represent an unreal, fantasy world, whereas in the Polaroids I show myself with rougher edges and more rooted in reality. The framing of the photographs has become systematic, and is determined by the length of my left arm. The urge to express spontaneity in this kind of picture gives me greater freedom of movement. These pictures are a declaration of love to these girls and the majestic work of Christian Lacroix, as well as an emotional tribute to the Polaroid camera. Once irreplaceable and now old-hat, it is now breathing its last.