Coco Chanel and Tina Fey are stuck in Stranded in a Lunar Base and forced to have a deep conversation.

"Honestly, Tina, this jumpsuit is an abomination. It needs structure, something to suggest a waistline, even in zero gravity," Coco declared, smoothing nonexistent fabric.

"Coco, honey, we're breathing recycled air in a glorified tin can; worrying about your silhouette seems a tad… earthbound," Tina quipped, adjusting her glasses.

"A woman's power, darling, is never confined by location, even on this desolate rock; it's about presence, about *knowing* you look impeccable," Coco retorted, her gaze steely.

"Alright, alright, point taken. But maybe instead of redesigning spacesuits, we could brainstorm a comedy show about lunar living? Think '30 Rock' meets 'The Martian'," Tina suggested, ever the writer.

"Comedy? A fleeting distraction. I deal in timeless elegance, something that transcends even the void," Coco scoffed, turning her nose up slightly.

"Elegance doesn't put food on the table, Coco. Laughter does, especially when the nearest restaurant is 238,900 miles away," Tina countered, a touch of exasperation in her voice.

"Perhaps a collaboration, then. A show about stylish survival, where wit is the ultimate accessory," Coco mused, a flicker of interest in her eyes.

"Now you're talking! Imagine, 'Lunar Chic,' a satirical look at fashion and survival in the vacuum of space," Tina beamed, already formulating ideas.

"As long as the protagonist has impeccable taste and knows how to drape a scarf to maximize oxygen flow, I'm in," Coco conceded, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Deal. And I promise, no Crocs on set. Even in space, some things are simply unforgivable," Tina declared, extending a hand.