Christian Dior
REVIEW
COMPLETE COLLECTION
PARIS, October 5, 1999
By
Couture blaxploitation, logos-a-go-go, leather-clad revolutionaries, whip-toting modern courtesans—where else but at Dior? John Galliano's romp started with a series of wildly sexy denim looks reminiscent of a glammed-out Foxy Brown: knee-high lace-up logo boots, foulard tops made out of Dior's signature print, frayed microskirts and supersexy tan leather pants. Just when you were ready to call the vice squad, out came a parade of eighteenth-century-inspired white, black, and red corsets with lace-up skirts and leggings (asymmetrically cut and with plenty of zippers and laces, of course). Insouciant dance-hall girls in enormous coiffures, velvet ensembles, polka dots, deconstructed suede, whips and satin getups followed. It doesn't get much closer to the fantasy of couture than this—and nobody makes it more fun than Galliano.
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