How does one describe brilliance?
The set is a worn boat dock, reminiscent of WWII, and the runway is elevated and rusted metal. The space is late to fill, as everyone rushes from across town through the light rain. Then, all at once, the tent is packed to the gills, with an amazing Paris-only crowd. A guy in a leather-daddy village people outfit on one side, Kate Moss on the other. The press photographers fight and climb over each other to get pictures of Kate, and 2 security guards are stationed, holding hands, directly in front of Anna Wintour and Grace Coddington, shielding them from the hord.
The mass of runway photographers form a hornets nest, each with just enough room for their lens to poke out, some on ladders, others crouched to the ground. They fill the designated space to critical mass. A number of the photographers start yelling every time someone in the front row of seats crosses their legs, or leans forward - any movement blocks their view.
The lights go dark, and all that is lit is the nautical set in the far recess of the runway. The old wooden posts are lit with a dim blue, and the sound of the ocean booms through the speakers as liquid nitrogen is released, instantly turning into a rolling smoke that looks more like crashing waves of water. Fans coax the water along the runway, and between the front row of legs. It's beautiful.
Then the music starts and the show begins.
It's spectacular to me to see so much creativity crammed into one 10 minute presentation. From the clothes, the way the girls walk, the hair and makeup, the lighting, the set, and of course the music. A custom mix booms through the tent, and completes the teleportation effect of the show - I feel like I'm on a different planet. David Bowie's voice is surgically attached to a beat that moves through your body and every piece of this incredible puzzle is so carefully crafted and controlled.
The clothes are too perfect, and too numerous to even touch on. The many girls complete their walk, do the finale, then return backstage as the runway goes dark.
Being a Dior show, so everyone knows there is one last critical piece of the puzzle - John Galliano.
The docks are once again lit, the sound of the ocean echos, and the waves of smoke come to life again, as the music comes back with force. A single silhouette appears on the runway, with the cherry glow of a cigarette. The lights turn on and it's John, taking control of the runway, walking with more attitude and charisma than all of the models put together. He's in full vintage sailor regalia, and his braided pigtails stem from his vintage hat. He walks, stops, hits two poses to an explosion of applause and cheers, then retreats back up the runway to the backstage.
10 minutes of creative concentrate. Beyond inspiring.
And that's Dior - today John returns with his namesake line, Galliano. I'm excited already.