A whirlwind week with Dior creative director Maria Grazia Chiuri as she stages the brand’s first New York runway show in a decade.
Usually, fashion designers are hidden away before their runway shows. But on a Monday night in April, Maria Grazia Chiuri casually slips through the lobby of the Brooklyn Museum, heading outside with two colleagues in matching black oversize suits for a quick cigarette break. (It’s her only preshow ritual, she says later, laughing, “but honestly, I would like to stop.”) The understated Italian doesn’t give off the air of someone with one of the most prestigious jobs in fashion. As the creative director of womenswear collections at Dior, she is the rare woman to sit atop a luxury brand, let alone one of the world’s largest. And, in about an hour, she will show its pre-fall to 1,000 eager onlookers.
After eight years with Dior, and 17 before that with Valentino, Chiuri doesn’t get nervous ahead of her fashion shows anymore. “Of course, there is emotion,” she says, “but at the same time, you have to be in control of it.”
The Brooklyn Museum is one of Chiuri’s favorite places in the city. Growing up in Rome, where the legacy of the old masters still dominates, she rarely saw the work of female artists. But here, the home of Judy Chicago’s The Dinner Party, “was the first time that I found a public institution with a space dedicated to feminist art,” she says.
To pull off the event, the French luxury brand flew in dozens of its designers and other staffers from Paris. They set up a temporary camp in a midtown office space on Fifth Avenue. The role of a fashion creative director is not unlike that of a film director. In the days before a show, Chiuri oversees the casting of models and decides which ones should inhabit the different characters she creates through her clothing. She tweaks the order of the looks and experiments with accessories. She manages to slip out of the office for only an hour one day, stopping by Manhattan Vintage and picking up a Nirvana tee for her own closet.
The designer frequently confers with her bubbly, look-alike daughter, Dior cultural consultant Rachele Regini, a 28-year-old gender-studies graduate who is as obsessed with female artists as Chiuri. French sound designer Michel Gaubert is there, too, to ensure the soundtrack sets the mood — high energy, avant-garde, female — and that no model emerges onto the runway during a break between songs. He and Chiuri rehearse with the models and keep tweaking.
During the show, Chiuri watches the live monitor backstage, looking for potential problems. “It could be that a model makes a mistake,” she says, or that she spots a rogue strap or popped collar that can be fixed before the final group walk. Chiuri marks the show’s end by walking out to the middle of the Beaux-Arts Court for a bow, waving as artist Mickalene Thomas and spokeswoman Charlize Theron applaud. The court is transformed into a dark nightclub, illuminated by artist Claire Fontaine’s neon installations commissioned by Chiuri especially for the occasion. By the time Kim Gordon takes the stage to play a few songs, the designer reemerges, dancing on top of one of the seating platforms with her daughter and Rosamund Pike, who never removes her tiny cat’s-eye sunglasses. Later, the designer heads to the VIP section, where she greets Dior CEO Delphine Arnault and takes pictures with her close friends, photographer Brigitte Lacombe and the Italian musician Jovanotti.
The next afternoon, Chiuri and Regini fly to Venice for the Biennale for a few days, then back to Paris. In a little over a month, Chiuri will do this again, but in a castle in Scotland, where Dior will present its cruise collection. To Chiuri, runway shows are a form of performance art — albeit a very short form. “You work for many months for ten minutes,” she says. “Because with ten minutes, you have to send a message.”
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