
Christian Dior Resort 2026
âI want to show what I love, what I really love.â So declared Maria Grazia Chiuri before she sent out a heart-felt, nearly all-white celebration of Rome, her birthplace. The women in the audience had been asked to dress in white, and gathered to watch in the spectacular formal gardens of the Villa Albani Torlonia. We were anticipating a crescendo, a grand finale of a show from the homecoming queen of feminist standard-bearing.
In fact, what we got from Chiuri was a resort show with a couture collection mixed in with it, for the most part wispily romantic and fragile-seeming. Emphasis on the âseeming,â that is. To the designer, it was an enactment shot through with autobiographical meaning, cultural nuanceâa bit of nonsense frivolityâand historical symbolism. Andâshe was laughing about this in the tented backstage area beforehandâit was deliberately intended to confuse. La Bella Confusione, a novel set in 1960s Rome was one starting point out of the many she infused into this show and its production. âA beautiful confusion,â she chuckled.
Well, you donât need to spend half a day in Rome to realize how densely layered and criss-crossed it is with archaeology and history. Chuiri said, in part, that she was drawing attention to the role her city has played in fashionâwrapped up as it is in the dolce vita of the 1950s, the glamourous heyday of the CinecittĂĄ movie industry, and the glory of Valentino and Fendi, both of whom she worked for. On top of that, she was celebrating the life of the heiress, hostess, and patron of the avant-garde arts, Mimi Pecci-Blunt. (Chiuri and her daughter Rachele have just restored her theatre, Teatro di Cometa.)
You can see why Chiuri might identify with Mimi. In many ways, over nine years at Dior, she has also been a relentless supporter and ally of women artists, artisans, and performers. On this night, she had local dancersâdressed in white by the Roman movie costumers Tirelliâperforming a Commedia dellâArte-cum-contemporary ballet around the gardens. This, as a reference to Mimiâs âBal Blanc,â which took place in 1930 in Paris. All guests wore white and were photographed by Man Ray while they posed surreally as historical figures.
Which was why we began by looking at four long, slim, beautifully tailored double-faced cashmere ensemblesâone of them a trouser suit and tailcoat. âThese are haute couture,â she said. âYou can only make these by hand. Some of the simplest things are the most difficult to make.â This ideal, minimalist yet sumptuous simplicity was followed by many variations on the theme of the long, slim, semi-sheer dress. The lace effects were almost countlessâ3D florals, rivulets of ruffles, leafy cut-outs, wavy art deco frills, gilded latticework covered with silken fringeâand more, and more. Underwear visible, shoes flat.
This, surely, was Chiuri staking claim to the look she has coined at Dior; her contribution over nearly a decade to the history of the house. But within this, there was yet more to be drawn out. One dress in particular, number 63, used an almost transparent curly ruffled technique that looked like a salute to her old employer Valentino Garavaniâand his breakthrough White Collection from 1968.
And then, there was her Vatican Conclave moment. It came very obviously in a short, black, red-buttoned cardinalâs coat; and maybe not so obviously, but definitely when you look twiceâin the vestment-like white shirts with deep lace hems. As it happens, Chiuri added, her heroine Mimi had a Pope as an uncle. More strange, blurry connections.
But Chiuri had a more serious observation to make about the significance of Mimiâs life. âShe was working during World War II. It was a terrible moment, and she was obsessedâin any caseâ[with] organizing concerts, performances within theater, exhibitions for art. Monsieur Dior had a gallery in Paris during that time, too,â she added. âThey had hope in their hearts for the future. I think that is what art is: it gives hope in the future.â
You wondered, at the end, at the beauty of her liquid gold velvet goddess dresses and the trompe lâoeil caviar beading which superimposed statue-like drapery on two dresses. The simplicity of the peplos has been another of Maria Graziaâs obsessions over the yearsâa point on which she has veered very much on her own path and away from the corseted Christian Dior template. There was only one moment when there was any suggestion of an encased torso, and that she saved for last. Not a corset, but armor. She was a Roman woman centurion, striding forward.