One of the more amusing ways to pass time at a fashion show is to ponder the juxtaposition between the designer's faithful patrons sitting in the front row, and the histrionics on the runway. Nowhere is this more apparent than at a Christian Dior show.
What on earth could they have been thinking, those ladies with their pancake foundation, as they stared up at yesterday's catwalk with its flashing lights and pounding music, at green and yellow leopard print coats, fuchsia lamé suits and gold, cropped combats swashed with the Dior label? Nevertheless, they grinned like Cheshire cats, totting up next season's wardrobe expenditure.
All fashion shows are more like rock gigs these days, in their efforts to give labels a brand image.
John Galliano, head designer at Christian Dior, has taken this to extremes, giving a screechingly loud image to his label, but his success was emphasised in the first few outfits: where once people bought the perfume to buy into the image, now they buy the accessories. The models were so laden with knick-knacks, such as leopard print bags with dangling dice, it was hard to notice the clothes. It was undoubtedly these little details that so pleased his faithful followers and which high-street stores are planning to copy.
But without decent clothes a brand image is worth nothing. Although Dior's clothes do dip into extremism, there are simple, beautiful alternatives - the girlishly sweet gown embroidered with flowers, or the draped chiffon dresses.
Galliano took his bow by pouting at the camera longer than any supermodel ever did: never has a designer more efficiently parlayed his own personality into handbag sales.