Maria Grazia Chiuri has officially stepped down from Dior. Some feel her work was underrated. Others think it never quite landed. I’m somewhere in between.
They called her careful. They called her quiet. They weren’t wrong. They just weren’t paying attention.”Maria Grazia Chiuri’s Dior was never about replicating Galliano’s theatrics or Simons’s precision. It was something else entirely—quiet, wearable, stubbornly sincere. When she stepped into Dior in 2016, she wasn’t just the first woman to hold the role—she was also finally working alone, after years of shared creative direction at Valentino. Her debut collection sent out that now-famous T-shirt: “We Should All Be Feminists.” From that moment, she was boxed in—dismissed as too political, too simplistic, too slogan-first.
But Chiuri wasn’t just printing politics on cotton—she was stitching them into the brand. Her Dior centered women—not muses or ideals, but the ones who walk, work, and carry the weight of their lives. Her silhouettes moved away from the corseted Dior ideal; she preferred flats over heels, cuirasse dresses over constructed illusions. She gave us the Dior Book Tote—practical, monogrammed, everywhere. J’adore elle pour ça. Yes, her work lacked the kind of spectacle that racks up likes and memes, but it sold. And maybe that’s why she stayed as long as she did—because a brand, at the end of the day, has to sell.
It’s also true that many of her collections started to echo each other. A little more experimentation might have brought added texture to her portfolio. In the documentary “Her Dior,” Chiuri expressed to Delphine Arnault her intention to steer the brand in a new direction, distinct from its past. Watch the “Her Dior” documentary to hear Chiuri define this intention herself.
And under Chiuri, Dior became a global powerhouse. Her work with women artisans across the world—India, Mexico, Burkina Faso—wasn’t just decorative outreach, it was structural, but she wasn’t immune to missteps either. The Pre-Fall 2019 collection inspired by Mexican escaramuzas only featured two Hispanic models, and her Africa-based campaign featured mostly white faces. These contradictions mattered. The intentions were expansive, but the execution sometimes lagged behind. Her feminism felt genuine—even if it didn’t always translate perfectly.
And while her ready-to-wear collections found enormous commercial success, her couture felt muted. Couture is where a designer is supposed to let go—be excessive, be wild—and she rarely let herself go there. Dior couture under Chiuri often felt too calm, too polite for the stage it held.
But then came Cruise 2026. No bar jacket. No heels. No final bow. And still, it was extraordinary. One of the most beautiful collections she’s ever done—ethereal, precise, and quietly powerful. She outdid herself. I just wish we saw more of that side earlier. The 31 couture pieces, the final armor-like Art d’Oeillet piece—it was quiet brilliance. And maybe that’s how she wanted to leave, not with a bang, but with craft.
In the end, Chiuri’s Dior wasn’t a fantasy. It was a phase. And every brand has them. Some directors explode the archive, others soften it. She softened it. Maybe too much for some, not enough for others. But she gave Dior a phase that felt more grounded, more international, more comfortable. And that matters.
Still, I do believe that no brand should have the same creative director for too long. Fashion needs rotation. It needs new energy, new eyes to stitch new meaning into legacy. Chiuri gave us what she believed Dior could be. Now someone else gets to give it a different shape. It’s a reminder that fashion can be both beautiful and meaningful, serving not just as art but as a reflection of our evolving society. That’s not a criticism. That’s fashion doing what it’s meant to do—evolve.
– Sakshi Agrawal
Noir et Blanc 