from vogue.co.uk
CHRISTIAN DIOR COUTURE "Cor blimey, Christian Dior," cooed the cabby, who thought he was being hilarious, as he drove to the back of beyond, oh sorry I mean to the Bois de Boulogne, way out on the outskirts of Paris. But then again Christian Dior is a name so revered, so on my mind, and so linked to the spirit of haute couture it was nice to see that everyone had got caught up in the sense of occasion.
Past the army of security guards, guests were hurdled into the inner sanctum of
John Galliano's imagination; couture is the real hub of this mavericks mind.
"Red is the new libertine
Platinum is the new Marie Antoinette
Leather is the new luxury
Veiling is the new seduction
Dior is the new Erotica."
Crickey, so it's not going to be for the wishy-washy faint-hearted then. Plundering the provinces of France, the revolution and the world of the Marquis de Sade, there was a new libertine on the loose - grab hold of your crucifixes and chastity belts and get ready for the ride.
The red lights rolled and the glass runway winked as the lights dimmed and tension mounted. Eerie eyes piercing out from under a luscious red satin high-collared cape, bound at the back. High ruffles, degrade details and leather pants bound so tight that the boots fair bled into the legs as the corsets pulled still tighter and tighter as this libertine's insatiable lust was for luxury. Bustles were slashed and corsetry burst through petticoats as a revolution of 'Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité' assaulted your eye and seized you by the throat.
This was couture alright - his muses and mischief made modern as degrade, plasticised spills of red and full black puffs with skulls heads laser cut round the hem, showed Dior take the spirit of scandal and seduction to a new era. Upturned perfume bottles as heels, leather crucifixes and veiled maidens: the revolution was raw and on the runway.
A bevy of bottle blondes - white make up, straps and lacing, corsets and crocodile skins - a palette of sin. But there was only room for one star and the Casanova held court on the runway: smoky black eyes, dark rich hennaed locks and black leathers bound to his body by raw lacing. Galliano swooshed his fencing sword and his eyes twinkled as he took his bow. "That really blew your minds didn't it," the cheeky grin seemed to say. (January 23 2006, PM)
By Camilla Morton