Before Jonathan Anderson presented Dior's Spring 2026 womenswear collection, his first for the house, he asked his guests to look back. Over a reading of Lord Byron's 1815 poem "She Walks in Beauty," the creative director screened a montage of Dior women through the decades—and through different designer eras. Runways from predecessors Maria Grazia Chiuri, Raf Simons, and John Galliano appeared; so did pop culture icons like Princess Diana, the namesake of the Lady Dior bag.
The video was Anderson's way of threading together all of Dior's chapters under one banner—a beauty that's "soft, calm, eloquent," in Byronic terms, no matter who's in charge. The poem and clips set the stage for showgoers (and fans watching the livestream with a magnifying glass) to remember the French luxury house's founding principles: liberating women through fashion, without sacrificing the fantasy it can evoke, from the cinched blazers of 1947's "New Look" to the "We Should All Be Feminists" T-shirt in 2016.
Then, the lights came up, the first models walked out, and another literary great was called to mind.
Dior's bar jacket, introduced in 1947, returned in two ultra-cropped silhouettes (left and right), and slightly oversize with a ruffled, bow-neck blouse (center).
Anderson was thinking in Shakespearean proportions for his first Dior womenswear outing. His show notes positioned the 74-look lineup as "dressing as a way to become a character on the stage that is life"—a reference to the defining monologue of William Shakespeare's As You Like It. (You know the beginning, even if you haven't read the play: "All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.")
Spring 2026's characters each tip their hats—literal and figurative—to the Miss Diors of eras past. There were satin ribbons in shades of peony pink and baby blue; hardware bag straps spelling D-I-O-R; cinched-waist blazers and big, sweeping capes.
Three dresses in the opening act involved a bow set askew on a strapless neckline, topping draped fabric that curved around the skirt and on to another bow at the opposite hem. This was a tribute to Mr. Christian Dior that fit the red carpet main characters like Jennifer Lawrence and Anya Taylor-Joy in the front row: diminutive and flat-out pretty from afar, the sort of looks you'd imagine Natalie Portman wearing in a perfume campaign. Up close, though, they're marvels of line and shape.
Bows, another Dior motif, were placed diagonally on the neckline and skirt hem of three strapless dresses, creating one elegant, draped line.
The Lord Byron piece that opened the show is a poem about the nuances in a woman's beauty; that her outward appearance is only a precursor to the heart beneath what she wears. As such, each successive look of Anderson's Dior invited a close reading.
More everyday outfits had a freakish element that would demand a double-take if worn out on the sidewalk. (See: an open-neck blazer and sculptural hat paired to a Laguna Beach denim mini skirt.) Bar jackets, the staple of the original New Look, were shrunken to rib-length and paired to sturdy pleated mini skirts. It's all enough to make you wonder what exactly what was on this woman's mind when she woke up and went to her closet—or, which novel she'd want printed on her Anderson-era book tote. Beauty isn't just about being pretty; it's about unfiltered, big-hearted expression.
For Anderson, Dior's signatures aren't a dress code he had to studiously cite in his first collection. Rather, he saw it as "an invitation to dream big—accepting the theater of life, enjoying the power of fashion to rewire the everyday into a grand fantasyscape," per the show notes. There's inherent drama in swashbuckling tricorn hats over a gathered white top, or bubble-hem floral dresses set with a surprise bow at the back. And for the entry-level customer—a woman with protagonist-tendencies but a guest-player budget—mule heels set with oversize flowers or a chain-strap bag crafted from a silky, scrunched-up fabric are just as fantastical of a doorway into the new Dior world.
Jonathan Anderson's tenure at Loewe peeked through in the diaphanous, high-neck blouses and ruffled peony mule heels. (Plus, some appealing leather bags.)
On Instagram, the official Dior account had teased the collection's bow-topped satin heels and jewel-encrusted bangle bracelets with a quote from its founder: "Women, with their intuitive instinct, understood that I dreamed not only of making them more beautiful, but happier, too."
This nod to the past sums up what made Anderson's debut so noteworthy and why fashion social media has been winding up for this show for weeks. (Marie Claire's own Slack overflowed with teary-eyed emoji reactions from editors when the collection finally walked down the runway.) Overall, the Spring 2026 season has felt overstuffed with new designer storylines at brands ranging from Bottega Veneta to Gucci, that at times put more emphasis on the personnel than on the final product. (A telling New York Times story pointed out that few shoppers in Milan really knew what was going on behind-the-scenes at their favorite labels, despite all the industry headlines about them.)
Amid all that noise, this collection proved the right creative director shift isn't just something a house pursues for the plot: It's for recasting the woman who wears the brand as a pure heroine—and in this case, reminding her how important it is to be earnest.
Dior Spring/Summer 2026
