In the gardens of the Musée Rodin, a model glided down a catwalk in a blue tulle skirt and a white T-shirt emblazoned with the slogan: “WE SHOULD ALL BE FEMINISTS.” It was 2016, and this was Maria Grazia Chiuri’s debut collection for Dior. The point of the T-shirt, I assume, was to celebrate her appointment as the first female creative director at the fashion house — a grand achievement. But her attempt to latch on to the #girlboss zeitgeist rang of insincerity, while the marketing of feminism as a luxury trend reduced it to a mere transitory notion. Feminism was in for Spring/Summer 2017. As for Fall/Winter 2017, who knew?
Now, after nearly a decade as creative director, Chiuri is parting ways with Dior. In spite of the recent flood of tributes, I suspect many people are greatly relieved. I know I am.
When it came to business, Chiuri played her cards perfectly. Quarter after quarter, Dior’s sales increased under her leadership. And she passed the crucial handbag test: designing the lucrative Book Tote, so popular that knockoff versions are still being hawked on Canal Street. She was everything that LVMH could want in a creative director.
Yet Chiuri’s self-proclaimed feminist activism left much to be desired. She is conspicuous by her absence among those designers, including Tom Ford and Marc Jacobs, who publicly refused to design clothing for the Trump family as early as 2016. Dior remains one of Melania Trump’s favourite brands, and LMVH maintains a close relationship with the Trumps. At the 2025 Inauguration, Ivanka Trump was outfitted in Dior. Chiuri’s own involvement in this is impossible to ascertain given her silence on the topic; regardless, it is incongruous with her politics. She supports a woman’s right to choose — something the Trump administration campaigned on curtailing.
After her debut, feminism faded from her collections. Her Autumn/Winter 2025 show focused on corsets — what critic Alexander Fury called the “cage of nineteenth-century femininity”. And one couture collection used crinoline, the stiff material comprising petticoats, as its prevailing motif. Still, Chiuri sought to underscore her commitment to the cause by collaborating with women artists for the staging; a Judy Chicago tapestry here, a Mickalene Thomas backdrop there — all feminist Teflon to protect her collections from detractors.
At her first show, Chiuri told Vogue: “The message, really, is that there is not one kind of woman.” Yet during her tenure, Dior models were invariably waif-thin women dressed in sheer gowns; her final collection was a parade of ghostly Victorian brides.
“After her debut, feminism faded from her collections.”
This might explain why in the nine years that she helmed Dior, her collections were for the most part poorly received by critics. Recent tributes waxed poetic about the pioneering nature of Chiuri’s career, but older, more candid reviews called her work “cookie-cutter” (Cathy Horyn, The Cut), “excruciatingly obvious, slogan-dependent feminism” (Vanessa Friedman, The New York Times), and, more bluntly, “Meh”, (Robin Givhan, The Washington Post).
What I did appreciate about Chiuri’s tenure, however, was her determination to abide by what are called the “house codes”. Creative directors often have a difficult charge, which is to honour the founder’s vision for their brand, while also modernising and personalising it. T-shirts aside, Chiuri often referred to Christian Dior’s revolutionary Bar Suit, which transformed the silhouette for women in 1947, bringing a post-war sumptuousness to the fore with nipped-in waists and padded hips. Chiuri’s version was more relaxed but maintained that hourglass shape.
In today’s fashion landscape, as LVMH and its counterpart Kering manically reshuffle designers from house to house to inject a sense of excitement once sales begin to falter, the original identities of brands are being lost. Alessandro Michele’s Valentino looks suspiciously similar to his Gucci; likewise, I presume Demna Gvasalia’s Gucci will resemble his Balenciaga. At least Chiuri consistently paid homage to those who came before her.
There are other reasons, too, to admire Chiuri. The fashion consultant Mimma Viglezio posted a video last week calling the media’s treatment of Chiuri “disrespect dressed up as critique”. Her appointment was significant, Viglezio says, because of the lack of women in positions of power within the fashion world. It’s a good point: the fashion industry is designed primarily for women, and yet it is run mostly by men. According to the trade publication 1 Granary, while 74% of fashion students identify as female, only 12% of creative directors at leading luxury houses are women. Even fashion houses founded by women — Schiaparelli, Chanel, Lanvin — aren’t run by women. Chanel’s Virginie Viard was recently replaced by Matthieu Blazy; the heir to Dior is Jonathan Anderson.
This gender imbalance is a big problem, especially given that some male designers don’t seem to care much about the comfort or tastes of the women they dress. Thom Browne, for instance, has been criticised for his treatment of models — in the past, he has tied models’ hands behind their backs or obscured their faces. “Sometimes I like it when my clothes negate the person,” he told The New Yorker.
Given the state of the industry, it’s a shame that Chiuri wasn’t more radical. At its best, women’s fashion can create revolutionary change. Coco Chanel is credited with liberating women from the corset; Claire McCardell created affordable but stylish outfits that could be worn in both the day and evening; Diane von Furstenberg’s jersey wrap-dress created a universally flattering silhouette, with the added luxury of being machine washable. Such designs tore down the physical or financial restrictions that women faced in daily life — and, in their own small way, drove real social change.
Chiuri’s designs didn’t accomplish anything like this. Her T-shirt made me feel like a punchline, not a person. A playful touch of insouciance in fashion can be refreshing, but these stale slogans were platitudinous gestures. But while I don’t mourn her designs, I do mourn the symbolic loss of yet another female creative director. One of the last women standing is now gone — but Chiuri’s hollow feminist branding was not the answer to a historic issue that requires corrections in hiring practices, not sloganeering. Fashion is already considered a frivolity by most; Chiuri’s reductive efforts did nothing to change this.
