Just by looking at the images of the Dior Spring/Summer 2026 collection, you get a dreamy feeling of adventure and curiosity: like reckless pirates with shiny tricornes stepping off their three-master. Wind blowing through ruffles and long hair. Sails, weathered by the salty air, faded, yellow. Clothes that tell stories from past centuries, found on the endless widths of the sea. Shimmering scales of fish. Venus rising from translucent foam. Tales of past masters, yet a witness to the present. That’s at least the feeling I got. But no matter what exactly you’re feeling, you can’t deny that Jonathan Anderson’s women’s debut at the French Maison was long awaited — and, if I dare say, the most anticipated spectacle in the game of creative director musical chairs.
For days, memes circled on social media, showing people sleeping next to the outfit they were going to wear while watching the show’s live stream. Videos of Anderson by the banks of the Seine, smoking a cigarette, probably stressed from the sudden pressure to create over sixteen collections a year. And of course, the never-ending online discussions about the soft launch of Dior women’s designs at the Toronto or Venice Film Festivals. Everyone already seemed to have an opinion. And yesterday, on day three of Paris Fashion Week, it finally happened.
When the live stream started, we all sat together in front of one laptop, watching Anya Taylor-Joy or Taylor Russell in their cars, making their way to the venue. Jennifer Lawrence getting dressed in a studio full of people in clinically clean lab coats and gloves. Watching how the venue filled — a vast hall, where an inverted pyramid formed the heart of the room, its sharp tip descending into a small box upon the white floor. A venue produced by none other than the renowned creative agency Bureau Betak. And this pyramid is also where everything started.
Because before the models could even enter the runway, one sentence was projected onto its geometric walls: “Do You Dare Enter the House of Dior?,” followed by quick, zoomed-in snippets of old horror movies like Alfred Hitchcock’s Stage Fright from 1950, as well as flashes of runway moments from all the designers who helped build Dior before Anderson: Yves Saint Laurent, for example. Marc Bohan, Kim Jones, John Galliano, and of course, Maria Grazia Chiuri. As I said, tales of past masters.
In the end, after the video by British social documentary filmmaker Adam Curtis finished, the intercuts rewound, seemingly falling into the shoebox on the ground. A loud opening moment that placed Anderson’s fear, respect, and pressure of continuing this high-fashion legacy in the middle of the room — visible to everyone. The shoebox, meanwhile, was supposed to embody that one random spot everyone has at home to store photos, old tickets, souvenirs, and memories; a box containing the history of Dior. Something the new creative director can always return to: to look at, take inspiration from, or just shut, if he wants to.
And now, after the video was played and Anderson made his (very relatable) point, the fashion finally started. Models in sheer dresses with huge bows on the back, just like wings (of a butterfly maybe, a moth. Or a seagull?). Pumps with bunny ears. Grey blazers whose tips were drawn inward, forming symmetrical loops, or perhaps evoking the intricate arcades of a Gothic cloister. There was lace, covering half the faces of the models, flowing over the shoulders, falling down the back like a long romantic train. Red plissé blousons. Loafers with a golden CD logo, blue jeans, knitted capes, and embellished gowns whose lengths were attached to mini dresses, flowing like waves around the feet.
Following the show, several central elements gave the collection its adventurous spirit: the dresses with bustles and panniers reminiscent of baroque fashion as well as late 19th-century whalebone constructs. They were actually inspired by Dior’s 1952 La Cigale dress and came in many different variations: in stretchy grey fabric that seemed to be pulled down by its own weight; in black, embroidered with transparent circles like fish scales; and in ombré – grey to white and cream – just like a sail cast adrift and carried ashore. Other adaptations featured wide waists and backsides on jackets and skirts, created through a seemingly endless number of pleats. Something we’ve already seen in Anderson’s Dior Spring/Summer 2026 men’s https://metalmagazine.eu/en/post/dior-men-ss-2026-decode-and-recode collection — a design that reinterprets Dior’s Winter 1948 couture dress Delft, which flopped back then, and therefore creates the perfect playful take on history, style, and commerce.
But what truly wove the storyline of the collection together were the historical sea elements: the big tricornes in beautiful colours, or simply black, by the house’s milliner, Stephen Jones. Tight embroidered vests layered over shirts with ruffled high collars. Long capes moving theatrically with the models’ powerful steps. An abstract, dark marine blue top with gold buttons and cut-outs at the waist, like a military sailor’s coat worn the wrong way. A long white scarf tied around the shoulders.
A majority of looks also featured various adaptations of bows, tangles, and twists. Grey suit pants, for example, with a structured waistband reminiscent of a belt or reversed hem, transitioning smoothly into pleated trouser legs. Or the shiny flared satin dress, whose bottom half evolved seamlessly into a woven pattern of loops and ribbons. And even in the simpler looks, the plackets of mini skirts, shirts, and blousons were always just a tiny bit off-center — a design element that might look like bad styling, but was, in fact, intentional. So, the longer you look, the more twisted details you can find. In the end, a pirate needs to know how to tie the knots properly, right?
Overall, most of the looks were presented in multiple colourways, something that definitely makes sense for future customers, but also shifts focus to the interplay of shades, fabrics, and tones: champagne combined with deep black and soft anthracite. Butter with pale ice green, mint, and strong mahogany. Smooth leather, denim, suede, lace, stiff wool, flowy silk. Some of the colourways and shapes were a continuation of the men’s collection: the green tweed bar jacket with black lapel, for example — maybe you remember how Rihanna’s son wore it at the Smurfs premiere in July. In the women’s collection, you could see a shrunken version, with a small pleated skirt that could also fit a doll.
Because of designs like this – designs we’ve already seen in Venice, in July, or on male models – not everything came as a surprise. Still, a lot of people in the fashion world are very happy with the collection. After the finale, when the creative director stepped onto the runway in his distinctive sloppy knitted pullover, jeans, and sneakers, the audience gave him an enthusiastic standing ovation.
Anderson’s work for Dior is fresh. It is cool. And it is promising. It’s the perfect play of historical references, legacy, fun storytelling, and personal design language we want to see. Because right now, everyone’s doing references, tributes, homages. I can’t hear it anymore. But if Anderson puts a bunch of high-fashion pirates in front of me, accompanied by an introduction with horror movie snippets, I want to hear everything.
