An Andalusian Christian Dior drama played out in the center of Seville: the stage held by two black-clad gypsy flamenco stars, 40 dancers, and a 110 resort looks which walked against the backdrop of the Plaza de Espana. Maria Grazia Chiuri had immersed herself in researching the traditions, crafts, histories, and female heroes of this region of southern Spain. “I really love the area,” she said in a preview. “You feel that tradition is really alive here. I recognize a lot of myself in this Mediterranean idea of women. I’ve felt a strong link and connection.”
The female flamenco dancer, giving her leaping, stamping, head-tossing performance in a black velvet suit was an almost exact reincarnation of the woman who had chiefly inspired Chiuri. “She was Carmen Amaya, who was the first female flamenco dancer to wear men’s clothes, in the 1950s. They called her La Capitana—a great name! She went to Paris and became very famous.” That one image started her off on a masculine-tailoring footing. Out strode an opening section of clean, lean, super high-waisted matador pants, embroidery, and passementerie, topped with locally-made men’s sombreros in black and white, and looks referencing the pristine equestrian uniforms of Spanish riding schools.
It was a pitch-perfect device for Chiuri, who’s imprinted her idea of androgynous, feminist dressing on Christian Dior from the first. She followed with romantic but reined-in references to off-the-shoulder flounced flamenco dresses in taffeta, subtle layerings of darkly sexy lace and black leather, black and white “arabesque” prints; then intensely detailed silhouettes in a deep carnation red.
As is usual for Dior these days, she’d been all around the region to form relationships with makers and artisans in the months ahead of the show. The hats, directed by Stephen Jones were made by the Fernandez Y Roche atelier and inspired by photos of the Duchess of Alba riding with Jackie Kennedy. The fringed and embroidered Manila shawls (adapted as capes with Christian Dior stitched into them) were made by Maria Jose Sanchez Espinar. There were—appropriately for the subject of the season—reiterations of the Christian Dior Saddle Bag, one of them in collaboration with the leather craftsman Javier Menacho Guisado.
This is partly to do with the new politics of cruise travel: for any major fashion house to airlift a huge audience to a destination, and then leave without demonstrably benefiting the host population is increasingly liable to be called out as questionable. But to Chiuri, finding local crafts specialists to work with is more than corporate box-ticking. Going back, the original strategy behind the cruise travel shows was to echo Christian Dior’s own global reach, she said (as he visited so many countries to set up licenses with foreign partners). “But I think this link now has to evolve in a different way to work with local craftspeople.” Besides, this is how she really loves working. It gives me energy. It’s very difficult to work without this exchange with people. I travel, go to factories and ateliers, one or two trips with the team. It’s not only about fashion and creativity. It’s an empathic moment. I don’t work so much in the office,” she laughed. “Actually, I find that super boring.”
Seville and its neighboring cities have no shortage of astonishing riches to inspire visitors—churches, art, music, dance, cross-pollination of cultures, and a proud ceremonial tradition of religious parades and ferias. As if to prove it, before the Dior event, the city was putting on its own days of shows: the feast of Corpus Christi, during which ancient statues of the Madonna and saints are bedecked with flowers and carried on plinths hung with damasks, brocades, and spectacular embroideries.
Tourists go there to see; but it’s not made for tourists. Citizens object to the cheapening and vulgarization of the culture by outsiders looking in. Things could have gone wrong had Chiuri’s collection majored on Spanish cliché; in the event she stepped clear by showing a restraint in styling born of respect for the sophistication of Sevillian skills and the meaning behind them. Multiple ultra-refined specialisms go into producing the finery of textiles and metalwork that maintain each church. “It’s actually haute couture craftsmanship.”
She boggled over discovering a metal-working company which makes silver and gold thread, imitating lace and other priceless fabrics, for religious statues and ceremonial objects. “I was shocked. I’ve never seen work like this.” She arranged for them to produce Dior earrings, gold metal collar accessories, and a gold filigree breastplate on a dress.
“You know,” she observed, in generations-old businesses like this, “the problem is if you think what you’re doing is usual, you don’t think it’s special. Sometimes you need someone else to say ‘this is magnificent’.” As far as what the lasting effect might be on both sides, she said, “the aim is to improve our knowledge and understanding, and for them to understand how a big brand works, which could be useful.”
Most of all, she said she found herself deeply moved by this particular project. Being brought up Catholic in Rome, seeing the elaborate reverential culture of the dressing of the statue of the Madonna spoke to her. “In these churches, she has her own room with her own wardrobe for her different occasions. They are made by incredible embroiderers. It reminded me of the Italian saying, about a well-dressed girl: “She’s as beautiful as a Madonna.”’
But she also drew wider lessons from what she learned in her deep dive into Sevillian tradition. One was the revelation about the history of the Manila shawl, commonly thought of as so specifically Spanish. In fact, it originated in China and was traded in Manila in the Philippines (hence the name), before being adopted in Andalusia, and then making its way to Mexico.
“Seville was a port where all cultures met. That’s the beauty of the place,” Chiuri concluded. “When people are becoming more nationalistic, we need to build bridges with fashion. And somehow, all of this is in the story of the craftsmanship.”
