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The Star
a day ago
- Entertainment
- The Star
Ethereal, dreamy, poetic: Looking back at Maria Grazia Chiuri's final Dior show
The fog drifted in over the manicured lawns of the Villa Albani Torlonia in Rome just as the Dior Cruise 2026 show began, lending what was already a somewhat surreal moment an extra-otherworldly air. All the female guests wore white, even Natalie Portman and Rosamund Pike; the men, black. As they entered the verdant inner courtyard of the private manse, with its collection of Greco-Roman antiquities, they walked past dancers posed like moving statuary. When the first models appeared, to the strains of a live orchestra, light rain began to fall. Along with the mist, it made the clothes, almost all ivory and often so light as to be practically transparent, seem ghostly (even for someone watching through the computer screen): an ethereal stew of references in lace, silk and velvet – with the occasional tailcoat – to different periods in history and imagination. In a video call before the show, the designer, Maria Grazia Chiuri, said she had been after what she called 'beautiful confusion', the phrase (co-screenwriter) Ennio Flaiano originally suggested as a title for (director Federico) Fellini's 8 1/2 . It was an apt description, not just of the collection itself, which seemed made for phantoms slipping from one era into the next, but also of the question mark surrounding her own situation. Read more: What led to Jonathan Anderson's sudden appointment as head of Dior menswear? Chiuri had nominally brought Dior back to her home city to celebrate the romantic spirits that formed her (and helped shape fashion), from La Cinecitta to director Pier Paolo Pasolini and Mimi Pecci-Blunt, an early 20th-century patroness of the arts who built a private theatre Chuiri recently restored. But she also brought herself and her audience full circle, back to the place she began. To do so, she enlisted a host of collaborators: the Tirelli costume house, director Matteo Garrone (who made a short film in honour of the collection), artist Pietro Ruffo, Dutch choreographers Imre and Marne Van Opstal. If that sounds like a lot to cram into what was essentially a 20-minute fashion experience, it was on purpose. It is widely accepted in fashion that this was Chiuri's last show for Dior. That in a matter of days the house will announce she is leaving after nine years and will be replaced by Jonathan Anderson, who recently joined Dior as artistic director of menswear. Note: This story was written before the announcement of her exit. LVMH, which owns the house, has not addressed the rumours, and when asked directly, Chiuri simply said, 'Oh, I don't answer this question.' It's too bad. The lack of clarity about her future, combined with the actual fog, gave an ambiguous edge to what could have been a triumphant farewell. Instead it seemed like a vaguely elegiac swan song. Maria Grazia Chiuri, creative director of Dior waves at the end of the Dior Cruise 2026 womenswear show at Villa Albani Torlonia, in Rome. Photo: AFP Maybe they are hedging for legal reasons. Maybe Chiuri, who has the thick skin and stubbornness of many pioneers, didn't want it to be nostalgic or sentimental. But while the collection was lovely and she got a standing ovation, it could have been so much more. It could have been an exclamation point at the end of what will surely be seen as a meaningful era in the life span of a major brand. A celebration of the contribution of the first woman to run the house. Such a farewell is not unheard-of in fashion, even if designers now turn over so often and so brusquely that it seems rarer than not. Tom Ford ended his Gucci period with a shower of pink rose petals, a standing ovation and Nothing Compares 2 U . Dries Van Noten went out on a silver foil runway with a giant disco ball to commemorate the moment. There's nothing wrong with designers being recognised for what they brought to a brand, even if, as in this case, the decision to part ways doesn't seem to be entirely mutual. Especially a designer like Chiuri, who both helped grow Dior to what is estimated to be close to US$9bil (approximately RM38.2bil) in revenue and expanded its identity more than anyone may have realised. She is quoted in the documentary Her Dior – a study of Chiuri's work with female artists directed by Loïc Prigent and released in March (an early sign, perhaps, of legacy building) – saying she knew what she was doing. She did. She used her power and position, the financial might of her company, not just to assert a somewhat hackneyed feminism (who could forget the slogan tees or the weird playsuits under princess dresses?), but also to support a variety of female artists as well as a panoply of artisans. To insist on the radical idea that craft belonged on the same level as couture. And, perhaps most significantly of all, to break the stranglehold of the "new look". Indeed, in Her Dior , Chiuri said she told the Dior executives when she was hired that the brand's most signature silhouette, with its cinching and constriction of the female figure, was not for her. Read more: A look back at Jonathan Anderson's star-studded legacy of dressing celebrities To look back at her collections is to see her methodically dismantling it. She did so first by going through the motions of loosening the stays – figuring out how to preserve the shape without the restrictive underpinnings – and then by eschewing it entirely. Her strength as a designer wasn't in the giant productions that surrounded her collections but in the internal magic she worked with construction and material. It's why her work often seemed more enticing in previews, experienced up close, than on the runway, where it could look banal. It is worth noting that there was not a single bar jacket in the whole cruise show. Or a high heel. Instead it was strewed with Easter eggs that suggested a finale: references to Chiuri-isms past (to the short film she and Garrone made during Covid-19 and to the dancers she had included in other shows); to a possible future (her work with the Roman theatre); to the goodbye of her colleague, former Dior menswear designer Kim Jones, who resigned after his January show (as in that show, some of Chiuri's models were wearing blindfolds). Even the inclusion of 31 couture looks among the ready-to-wear seemed a last word of sorts. Couture is the next season on the womenswear schedule, and it would have been Chiuri's next collection, if there actually were one. For now there was just the Cruise 2026 show's closing look: an extraordinary gown micro-beaded to resemble a trompe l'oeil heroic torso. Or a relic, perhaps, of a time gone by. – ©2025 The New York Times Company This article originally appeared in The New York Times.
New York Times
2 days ago
- Business
- New York Times
Dior's First Female Designer Says Farewell
The tenure of Dior's first female designer, Maria Grazia Chiuri, formally came to an end on Thursday with an announcement that she was leaving the brand after nine years. It had been rumored for months, so it surprised no one. Really it had ended two days before in Rome, with a cruise show. One that encapsulated all she had brought to the house. Even if she didn't admit it, she clearly had designed it that way. It's one way to have the last word. Indeed, the fog that drifted in over the manicured lawns of the Villa Albani Torlonia in Rome just as the show began lent what was already a surreal moment an extra-otherworldly air. Ms. Chiuri had requested that all of the female guests wear white, even Natalie Portman and Rosamund Pike; the men, black. As they entered the verdant inner courtyard of the private manse, with its collection of Greco-Roman antiquities, they walked past dancers posed like moving statuary. When the first models appeared, to the strains of a live orchestra, light rain began to fall. Along with the mist, it made the clothes, almost all ivory and often so light as to be practically transparent, seem ghostly (even for someone like me, watching through the computer screen): an ethereal stew of references in lace, silk and velvet — with the occasional tailcoat — to different periods in history and imagination. In a video call before the show, Ms. Chiuri said she had been after what she called 'beautiful confusion,' the phrase the screenwriter Ennio Flaiano originally suggested as a title for Fellini's '8½.' It was an apt description, not just of the collection itself, which seemed made for phantoms slipping from one era into the next, but also of what was then a question mark surrounding her own position. Ms. Chiuri had nominally brought Dior back to her home city to celebrate the romantic spirits that formed her (and helped shape fashion), from La Cinecittà to the director Pier Paolo Pasolini and Mimì Pecci-Blunt, an early 20th-century patroness of the arts who had built a private theater Ms. Chuiri recently restored. But she also brought herself and her audience full circle, back to the place she began. To do so, she enlisted a host of collaborators: the Tirelli costume house, the director Matteo Garrone (who made a short film in honor of the collection), the artist Pietro Ruffo, the Dutch choreographers Imre and Marne van Opstal. If that sounds like a lot to cram into what was essentially a 20-minute fashion experience, it was on purpose. At that point, no one was admitting that she was about to leave — not even her. When asked directly, Ms. Chiuri had simply said, 'Oh, I don't answer this question.' Now everyone knows the answer. Still, it's too bad no one had been willing to acknowledge it sooner. Because the lack of clarity about Ms Chiuri's future, combined with the actual fog, merely gave an ambiguous edge to what could have been a triumphant farewell. Turned it into a vaguely elegiac swan song. Maybe Ms. Chiuri, who has the thick skin and stubbornness of many pioneers, didn't want it to be nostalgic or sentimental. But while the collection was lovely and she got a standing ovation, it could have been so much more. It could have been an exclamation point at the end of what will surely be seen as a meaningful era in the life span of a major brand. A celebration of the contribution of the first woman to run the house. Such a farewell is not unheard-of in fashion, even if designers now turn over so often and so brusquely that it seems rarer than not. Tom Ford ended his Gucci period with a shower of pink rose petals, a standing ovation and 'Nothing Compares 2 U.' Dries Van Noten went out on a silver foil runway with a giant disco ball to commemorate the moment. There's nothing wrong with designers being recognized for what they brought to a brand, even if, as in this case, the decision to part ways doesn't seem to have been entirely mutual. (In the announcement of her departure, the decision was cast as Ms, Chiuri's.) Especially a designer like Ms. Chiuri, who both helped grow Dior to what is estimated to be close to $9 billion in revenue and expanded its identity more than anyone may have realized. She is quoted in the documentary 'Her Dior' — a study of Ms. Chiuri's work with female artists directed by Loïc Prigent and released in March (an early sign, perhaps, of legacy building) — saying she knew what she was doing. She did. As Delphine Arnault, the chief executive of Dior, said in the news release about Ms. Chiuri's departure, 'She has written a key chapter in the history of Christian Dior.' She used her power and position, the financial might of her company, not just to assert a somewhat hackneyed feminism (who could forget the slogan tees or the weird playsuits under princess dresses?), but also to support a variety of female artists as well as a panoply of artisans. To insist on the radical idea that craft belonged on the same level as couture. And, perhaps most significantly of all, to break the stranglehold of the New Look. In 'Her Dior,' Ms. Chiuri said she told the Dior executives when she was hired that the brand's most signature silhouette, with its cinching and constriction of the female figure, was not for her. To look back at her collections is to see her methodically dismantling it. She did so first by going through the motions of loosening the stays — figuring out how to preserve the shape without the restrictive underpinnings — and then by eschewing it entirely. Her strength as a designer wasn't in the giant productions that surrounded her collections but in the internal magic she worked with construction and material. It's why her work often seemed more enticing in previews, experienced up close, than on the runway, where it could look banal. It is worth noting that there was not a single bar jacket in the whole cruise show. Or a high heel. As an alternative, it was strewed with Easter eggs that suggested a finale: references to Chiuri-isms past (to the short film she and Mr. Garrone made during Covid and to the dancers she had included in other shows); to a possible future (her work with the Roman theater); to the last show of her colleague, the former Dior men's wear designer Kim Jones, who resigned in January. (As in that show, some of Ms. Chiuri's models were wearing blindfolds.) Even the inclusion of 31 couture looks among the ready-to-wear seemed a goodbye of sorts. Couture is the next season on the women's wear schedule, and it would have been Ms. Chiuri's next collection, if there actually were one. Instead there was just the cruise show's closing look: an extraordinary gown micro-beaded to resemble a trompe l'oeil heroic torso. Or a relic, perhaps, of what is now officially a time gone by.
Emirates Woman
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- Emirates Woman
The Dior Cruise 2026 show presents a cinematic ode to Rome's timeless elegance
For Maria Grazia Chiuri, bringing the Dior Cruise 2026 show to Rome was both a homecoming and a challenge. A decade after her last presentation in the Eternal City—the breathtaking Mirabilia Romae haute couture show for Valentino—she returned with a spectacle that melded history, cinema, and fashion in a way only she could envision. Held at the enchanting Villa Albani Torlonia, an 18th-century treasure trove of Greco-Roman antiquities rarely open to the public, the show was a grand production worthy of Rome's legendary Cinecittà studios. As artificial mist swirled across the parterre and raindrops began to fall (only to fade as the models emerged), the setting became a dreamscape—one where Renaissance opulence met modern femininity. Chiuri's collection was a masterclass in storytelling, with diaphanous cream and white gowns floating alongside dramatic crimson and black velvet columns. Androgynous outerwear—think military tailcoats, peaked trench capes, and sleek motorcycle jackets—added a touch of Dietrich-esque power, while intricate lace and gold-fringed capes exuded regal grandeur. In a nod to Italian cinematic history, she collaborated with famed costume house Tirelli to recreate iconic looks from films like *The Leopard* and The Age of Innocence. The result? A wardrobe fit for a modern-day princess—or a silver-screen siren. Though the grandeur of the venue occasionally overshadowed the meticulous craftsmanship, standout pieces like a scalloped, bead-dusted slip dress and a gold-fringed cape ensured Chiuri's vision shone through. If this marks her final bow at Dior after nine transformative years, she leaves with a triumphant ode to Rome—and to the timeless allure of women who wear her designs. A show of marvels, indeed. – For more on luxury lifestyle, news, fashion and beauty follow Emirates Woman on Facebook and Instagram Images: Supplied & Feature Image: Supplied
Elle
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- Elle
See Dior's Ghostly Tribute to the Roman Theater
An extravagant patroness, a hallowed theater, and a mysterious evening of 'living pictures': these are the spirits that Maria Grazia Chiuri sought to recapture in the Dior cruise 2026 collection and its accompanying short film, Les Fantômes du Cinéma. To understand these ghostly revivals, we must travel back to the living. The collection was heavily inspired by the life and luxuries of countess Anna Laetitia Pecci, more commonly known as Mimì Pecci-Blunt, who was a dedicated couture client and a lifelong patron of the arts until her death in 1971. Across her salon in Paris and mansion in Rome, Pecci-Blunt often played host to artists including Salvador Dalí, writer Alberto Moravia, composer Henri Sauguet, and more. In 1958, the countess purchased and guided the Teatro della Cometa in Rome for a single glorious season. While the theater changed hands through the years before falling into obscurity, Dior took it over in 2020, leaving its restoration in Chiuri's hands. Five years later, on the precipice of the venue's reopening, Chiuri took to the Villa Reale di Marlia to reignite Pecci-Blunt's vision through a multifaceted runway presentation. Both the collection and film directly reference one of the countess's glamorous evenings in Paris in 1930—the Bal Blanc, where guests dressed in white, as if transforming into alabaster sculptures, doubling as the venue's 'living pictures' entertainment (as demonstrated by the runway's all-white ensembles and glimmering Roman-inspired trompe l'oeil). The result is a scene of exceedingly fragile beauty. In ushering these fashionable ghosts into the present, a feeling of temporality remains. For Chiuri, this is by design. The creative director worked closely with the Italian costume house Tirelli to replicate exact pieces from the costumer's archive using period-accurate preserved lace, as seen on the powdered-faced actors flitting through the film. As Chiuri explained on Instagram, one snag on a manicured rose bush and the character's crinoline-laden gown could crumble. On the runway, the models were visions in white, black, and beige, gliding down the pebbled pathway in billowing sheer skirts, tuxedo jackets, and minimalist column dresses. The collection felt not only like a tribute to Pecci-Blunt's and Tirelli's legacies, but also a nostalgic culmination of nearly a decade's worth of Chiuri's delicate designs. An interesting through-line between womenswear and Dior Men also showed up. Many of the models sported lace masks, another direct reference to the dress code for Bal Blanc that undoubtedly added to the allure and warranted a warm standing ovation. However, it's impossible to not call back to the striking satin masks in Kim Jones's final collection for the brand during the fall 2025 runway season. Ultimately, Chiuri remains a passionate patron of the arts, dedicated to crafting a sartorial narrative down to the finest details of femininity. Much like Pecci-Blunt's Bal Blanc guests and Tirelli's creations on the silver screen, Chiuri is deft at bringing a character's vision to life.
Grazia USA
4 days ago
- Entertainment
- Grazia USA
Dior Cruise 2026: Roman Reverie At The Villa Albani Torlonia
Dior Cruise 2026 show held at the Villa Albani Torlonia on May 27, 2025 in Rome, Italy. (Photo by Giovanni Giannoni/WWD via Getty Images) On a rainy day in Rome, Dior unveiled its Cruise 2026 collection at the Villa Albani Torlonia, a jewel of 18th-century grandeur usually closed to the public, opened for Maria Grazia Chiuri's latest spectacle. For Chiuri, a native Roman, this wasn't just a homecoming, but an ode to the Eternal City and its enduring influence on arts, culture and, of course, fashion. Inspired by 'bella confusione'—translated to 'beautiful confusion'—once floated as a title for Fellini's 8½, the collection unravelled like a surrealist dream, where historical silhouettes and cinematic references danced in stirking chiaroscuro. At its heart was Mimì Pecci Blunt, the 20th-century arts patron famed for her legendary masked balls. In homage, Chiuri conjured her own Bal de l'Imagination, transforming the villa's expansive gardens into a monochrome mirage of clothes that dialed up the theatrical opulence. There were velvet gowns edged in lace, ecclesiastical silhouettes reimagined as eveningwear, and cropped tailored jackets and suits sets that called to mind vintage heroines. Trompe l'oeil beading made a muse of the body, as dresses effortlessly draped around waists and along decolletages with the fluidity of choreographed dance. At the same time, archival handwork met high drama, with help from iconic Roman costume house Tirelli. And then, as the models made their final procession and Chiuri emerged for a humble bow, the clouds parted. With rumours swirling of her departure and Jonathan Anderson waiting in the wings, it's a wonder if this glorious love letter to her hometown served as a farewell ball of sorts. Whether the gossip stands to be true or not, it's clear that the Eternal City will always hold a special place in the history of Dior. (Photo by Giovanni Giannoni/WWD via Getty Images) (Photo by Giovanni Giannoni/WWD via Getty Images) (Photo by Giovanni Giannoni/WWD via Getty Images) (Photo by Giovanni Giannoni/WWD via Getty Images) (Photo by Giovanni Giannoni/WWD via Getty Images) (Photo by Giovanni Giannoni/WWD via Getty Images) (Photo by Giovanni Giannoni/WWD via Getty Images) (Photo by Giovanni Giannoni/WWD via Getty Images) (Photo by Giovanni Giannoni/WWD via Getty Images) (Photo by Giovanni Giannoni/WWD via Getty Images) (Photo by Giovanni Giannoni/WWD via Getty Images) (Photo by Giovanni Giannoni/WWD via Getty Images) (Photo by Giovanni Giannoni/WWD via Getty Images) (Photo by Giovanni Giannoni/WWD via Getty Images) (Photo by Giovanni Giannoni/WWD via Getty Images) (Photo by Giovanni Giannoni/WWD via Getty Images) (Photo by Giovanni Giannoni/WWD via Getty Images) (Photo by Giovanni Giannoni/WWD via Getty Images) (Photo by Giovanni Giannoni/WWD via Getty Images) (Photo by Giovanni Giannoni/WWD via Getty Images) (Photo by Giovanni Giannoni/WWD via Getty Images) (Photo by Giovanni Giannoni/WWD via Getty Images) (Photo by Giovanni Giannoni/WWD via Getty Images) (Photo by Giovanni Giannoni/WWD via Getty Images) (Photo by Giovanni Giannoni/WWD via Getty Images) (Photo by Giovanni Giannoni/WWD via Getty Images) (Photo by Giovanni Giannoni/WWD via Getty Images) (Photo by Giovanni Giannoni/WWD via Getty Images) (Photo by Giovanni Giannoni/WWD via Getty Images) (Photo by Giovanni Giannoni/WWD via Getty Images) (Photo by Giovanni Giannoni/WWD via Getty Images) (Photo by Giovanni Giannoni/WWD via Getty Images)
