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“Do you dare enter the house of Dior?” asked the Adam Curtis-directed film screened before Jonathan Anderson’s debut women’s show. The clip, projected onto an inverted pyramid, spliced classic horror tropes with images of Dior’s legendary alumni throughout the decades. It was a reminder of the fearsome legacy he now shoulders, but also an insight into the daunting prospect that lay ahead of the designer upon his appointment.
But if Anderson felt stage fright, it didn’t show. His Spring/Summer 2026 collection was as irreverent as it was an homage. A dialogue between Dior’s past, Anderson’s own archive, and a mischievous instinct for what’s ahead.
History was everywhere, though never handled with kid gloves. Monsieur Dior’s beloved florals bloomed anew, while the iconic Bar jacket reappeared—sometimes in sculpted forms, sometimes shrunken and cut in green Donegal tweed with a coordinating pleated skirt. The 1949 Junon gown was referenced in a finale dress of oyster-shell beading, while intricate lace frocks—weightless with butterfly wings for some exaggeration—and reimagined outerwear spoke to what the Maison and its new creative helm have in common: an obsession with revolutionising silhouettes.
In the lead-up to this week, there was concern that a heritage brand appointment would temper Anderson’s much-loved creativity, as his success with Loewe was fostered by the brand’s more malleable position when he joined it, compared to Dior. However, this debut quickly shushed those thoughts. His sense of humour and propensity for risk-taking prevailed—particularly in the accessory department.
Alongside denim minis with tuxedos and bubble skirts, there were bunny-eared pumps and cabbage rose shoes, alongside squishy cannage bags and relaxed suede totes. Stephen Jones’ hats were a blend of nun’s cornette and military bicorne, infusing a sense of couture fantasy into the mix. If Maria Grazia Chiuri loosened the reins of Dior, Anderson is boldly ushering it into the future.
Unlike some on the fashion month docket, Anderson’s signatures aren’t in wash-and-repeat motifs or techniques, but in an approach full of whimsy, wit and challenging convention. And while much can fall under that umbrella, his purity of vision has become its own language in which we can recognise his handiwork.
Not everything landed for the purists, sure, and the Internet is currently up in arms debating its merits, but Anderson’s point was clear: he’s here to experiment, not embalm. And in collaging eras and aesthetics and unsettling expectations, the originality of this collection itself felt like a luxury.
It may take seasons for Anderson’s Dior to crystallise fully, but that’s part of the pleasure, watching an era find its voice. For now, he has shown he can honour the Maison’s legacy while insisting on his own language. In a Paris Fashion Week crammed with noise and headlines, Dior’s debut spoke in its own, original tone. Anderson’s spark is alive and well, and he’s penning the future of Dior on his own terms.
