Backstage at Dior couture by Virginie Khateeb
Still crushing hard - like a blushing schoolgirl, like a tween 1D fan - on Raf Simons at Dior. I mean, seriously, in the immortal words that paragon of musical virtue (ABBA, who else?): A grown up woman should never fall so easily. I can't remember the last time I obsessed like this over a designer... It must be Phoebe Philo at Celine - the first collection - and before that, when I was a teenager, Marc Jacobs everything (Oh, how I loved MBMJ). There's something about Dior now that is so right for now, it's the way young women really want to dress, and - much like Philo before him - Simons is reinvigorating and rejuvenating a dusty old house beset by the ghost of creative directors past. There's something light and fresh, a sleight of hand, a femininity that is very, very cool. And it's so marketable. I was just in Hong Kong and the Dior stores there are on another level, space age and futuristic, all chrome fittings and marble: the way you think a space ship would look like if it was designed by a fashionista. I mean, this is couture! But it's so wearable! It's couture that would not look out of place at the brunch table, at the club, at the - yes, I'm being sincere here - at the supermarket. That is an achievement. In a week where the outlandish and the outrageous are par for the course, and the gowns that we see on the runway rarely make it past the red carpets, this is refreshing. Alright, okay, I admit it. I can't wait to see J.Law in that little cut-out midi. Hunger Games Mockingjay Part 2 premiere, anyone? Go out with a bang.