Dior has always been a house of silhouettes — sculpted, structured, intentional.
But what happens when those silhouettes start speaking?
When Christian Dior launched his debut collection in 1947, the world was recovering from war and rationing. His response? The “New Look” — cinched waists, full skirts, and an unapologetic return to beauty. Some saw it as a rebirth of femininity. Others, a re-caging of the body. But either way, it wasn’t passive. It was power dressed as softness.
That’s Dior’s signature: control dressed as grace.
Even when the house let in chaos — like during the John Galliano era (1996–2011) — it never truly let go. Galliano gave Y2K girls the theatre they wanted: corsets, pirate boots, powdered wigs. Dior was drama, and we were here for it. But even then, it was drama with structure. Every stitch was sculpted, every look choreographed. Until, of course, it went too far. His 2011 dismissal following an anti-Semitic scandal became one of fashion’s darkest PR crises — and a stark reminder that no brand, no matter how storied, is immune to collapse. Notable pieces: The newspaper dress (FW00), Dior Saddle Bag (1999), and the Egyptian collection looks (2004).
Then came the Raf Simons era (2012–2015): the antidote to excess. He gave the Dior woman quiet confidence. Clean lines. Soft tailoring. A whisper after years of screaming. Simons didn’t just reimagine clothes — he rebranded Dior’s entire aesthetic. White walls, modern minimalism, campaigns stripped of distraction. His Dior woman didn’t seek attention. She owned it. Notable pieces: Modernized Bar Jacket, color-blocked shift dresses, and the minimal floral ballgowns from Dior Couture FW12.
Then came Maria Grazia Chiuri, Dior’s first female creative director, in 2016. Her woman reads, travels, and often protests — while wearing a Bar Jacket. She wore T-shirts that said “We Should All Be Feminists” (SS17) and walked through Mughal gardens in Jaipur. Her Dior is global and message-driven. But her feminism has also raised eyebrows. Can a €900 slogan tee be revolutionary? Or is it simply luxury’s way of joining the conversation?
And yet — it works. Because Chiuri’s messaging, however curated, is consistent. She globalized Dior without diluting it. From Mumbai to Seville, she turned fashion shows into cultural dialogues — and helped Dior secure its place as one of the most relevant maisons of the moment.
Notable pieces: “We Should All Be Feminists” tee (SS17), Dior Book Tote, and Cruise 2020’s mirrorwork embroidery from India.
Meanwhile, Kim Jones’ Dior Men blends Savile Row tailoring with streetwear credibility — think Travis Scott collaborations, ERL co-creations, and that viral Saddle Bag moment on the menswear runway. It’s Dior, but in sneakers — and it sells. The marketing is pristine, the positioning clear: aspirational, global, youth-aware. Notable pieces: Men’s Saddle Bag, the Dior x Travis Scott capsule, and the ERL padded looks (2022).
And now, with Jonathan Anderson recently appointed as creative director of Dior Men (2025), we wait. Will the elegance remain sculpted? Or will surrealism soften the edges?
My personal era? John Galliano — no contest. I love a time when expression is done in the most beautiful way. The best pieces came from that era, and if I could, I’d have a closet full of Galliano’s Dior.
One thing is certain:
Even at its wildest, Dior’s chaos came with a waist cinch.
Dior doesn’t follow the moment — it shapes the woman who defines it.
And no matter how much the world shifts, Dior keeps the posture tight.
-Sakshi Agrawal
Noir et Blanc 