Kim Jones has already written his name into the lore of Christian Dior and beyond. His arrival here five years ago—and championing of Virgil Abloh to replace him at his old gig—reordered the fashion world’s tectonics for good. And his creative inclusivity created a template in luxury that has now become ubiquitous.
For this anniversary collection, Jones turned that instinct for cross-pollination toward a canonical trio of Dior designers who preceded him. He referenced Yves Saint Laurent, Gianfranco Ferré, and Marc Bohan, enmeshing motifs from their times here with propositions of his own. The membrane the connected them all was Christian Dior’s cannage, the pattern the house founder based on the woven rattan chairs in which guests sat at his first salon show in 1947.
Today we sat on stepped blocks in a hulking ephemeral house-gray box set outside the École Militaire. Crowds screamed outside for various so-hot-right-now arrivals. The security officers, obliged to wear black suits, were brusque and bothered in the broiling sun. The show opened with a coup de théâtre: The wide runway was composed of polished metal gray tiles. As the first Andrew Weatherall–conjured wheezing whalesong of Primal Scream’s “Higher Than the Sun” began to roll, the entire cast of models was raised from beneath the runway in a three-wide, 17-long grid of looks. It was a phones-up moment.
Jones’s design credentials are undisputed. He is also an extremely accomplished visual editor. He studded polished jewels (cabochons) on cardigans draped over the collection’s straight-legged, high-hemmed, high skirted tailoring, and then that over piqué polo shirts set with yet more jewels. Tweed loafers had buckles derived from a Lady Dior fragrance motif. Marled jacquard cannage knits in punchy colors were worn shoulder robed over more of the tailoring. Some jackets, semi-safarienne, were set with a bow at the breast pocket. Long tweed coats, high notch-collared and double breasted, featured the faded rattan shape within their muesli flecks and appeared to be bonded dresses worn from the shoulder.
Dior’s Mitzah Bricard–inspired leopard print was reproduced on Saddle bags and vests. These were worn with sporty tweed shorts, which were later placed against tweed and piqué twinsets. The punches of fluoro green and orange added a psychedelic touch, enhanced by that immortal Weatherall soundtrack: This was a Dior kaleidoscope with Jones at its center. Or as he put it himself: “It’s a collage of different designers in the archive expressed in shape, color, form and mood.”
