Maria Grazia Chiuri became Maria Queen of Scots — for a day — raising an army of models dressed in lace, black velvet and tartan, and letting them loose in the grand, Italianate gardens at Scotland’s 15th century Drummond Castle.
She had fortune on her side. It usually rains during the Dior resort shows, no matter where they take place, but Monday’s skies were blue and blazing with sunshine — a minor miracle in Scotland, which is even rainier than England. The evening was chilly, but that’s Scotland, and there was no room for compliant. The rain is set to return on Tuesday.
In a wink to all those wet shows, various versions of the Eurythmics’ “Here Comes the Rain Again” played as models strode around the geometric paths and mazes of the gardens.
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Chiuri had been wanting to stage a show in Scotland for years, and for myriad reasons. She was keen to carry on the Dior tradition, learn more about the local textiles, and pursue her women’s history studies.
The collection was inspired, in part, by Clare Hunter, the textile expert and author of “Embroidering Her Truth: Mary Queen of Scots and the Language of Power.” Chiuri also worked closely with her friend Justine Picardie, who wrote “Miss Dior: A Wartime Story of Courage and Couture,” to explore Christian Dior’s ties with Scotland.
She pored over behind-the-scenes, black-and-white images from the 1955 spring Dior show, which took place in the ballroom of the Gleneagles Hotel, and used the images as patches on a cape coat, and on the T-shirts and printed bags and blankets that Dior handed out to guests at the show.
Chiuri, who’d only been to Scotland a few times before she began work on the collection, was captivated by the romance of it all.
“The country is very cinematic and so present in our imagination,” she said during a preview at her temporary studio in Edinburgh, an hour’s ride from Drummond Castle.
“It’s poetic, romantic and like a fairy tale place with all the castles. Think about how the outdoor culture of the country has influenced designers like Vivienne Westwood and Alexander McQueen — to name a few. I wasn’t surprised that Mr. Dior was fascinated by this country and its textiles,” she added.
Chiuri channeled her own fascination into a handsome, wearable collection that was made from hard and soft elements, fit for warriors and regal ladies alike. Minidresses had stiff sculptural skirts nodding to suits of armor, while sparkling knits dotted with sparkles resembled chain mail. The Elizabethan puff sleeves on sheer tops were the ultimate in power shoulders.
Footwear was ferocious, fit for battle — or for fly fishing. Models in the most delicate of creamy lace dresses walked in black stompy boots, some with lots of hardware, unzipped wellies, or tall waders with saucy garter strap details.
One flat, square-toed style with thick buckled straps resembled a ballet shoe, and gave some of the long, romantic dresses a monastic edge.
“Mary Stuart’s wardrobe mixed very fragile lace with velvet, and there was a dialogue between very different materials,” said Chiuri, referring to Mary Queen of Scots. “So in the show we mixed together sportswear with fragile materials. Corsets act like accessories, while cotton and wool fabrics come with embroideries.”
There were contrasts from top to bottom. Some models’ braided hair was threaded with gold studs, while others wore delicate veils dotted with sparkles that resembled tears, courtesy of Stephen Jones.
Chiuri visited Scotland multiple times over the last few months, making trips to Johnstons of Elgin weaving mill; examining Esk Cashmere’s Fair Isle and other traditional knitwear designs; and delving into the archives at Robert Mackie, which makes ceremonial headwear worn by the Scottish military regiments.
She flew to the Outer Hebrides to watch how Harris tweed woolens are made (by artisans, often farmers, who weave in their homes on treadle looms) and worked with the collective on a special tartan for the collection, in colors of the Scottish countryside, such as green, yellow and violet.
Those tartans opened the show: some resembled blankets wrapped around the body and were secured with belts and harnesses, while others came as draped skirt suits with fringed edges. They had a wild feel to them, while other long tartan skirts had parachute and toggle details and a waft of punk.
Chiuri loves the idea of a kilt as the original multipurpose garment. “It’s like the sari, or the toga. It’s one piece, like a blanket secured with a belt. It was the first way that different cultures dressed themselves — with a single textile,” she said.
Chiuri tapped local designer Samantha McCoach of the brand Le Kilt to create a dedicated design for the show, inspired by the moss and the various green shoots from the Scottish countryside. She also put her own spin on the classic shape, creating dark cotton “working” kilts — long or short — with pockets and contrast stitching.
She even dashed up a few for the men on her team. “There’s a very famous song in Italy about women wanting to see men in skirts,” said Chiuri with a big laugh.
Her men, she said, “are working backstage and it’s a good solution, right? It’s better than carrying a bag! I even had a kilt made for myself — it means your hands are free and you can run.” The Dior men (including Jones) embraced the look, teaming their kilts with argyle socks and black loafers, or with Converse high tops. Nobody seemed to be complaining.
“Next, I want to do a calendar, with all my men wearing their kilts,” said Chiuri, the queen in full command of her army.