Maria Grazia Chiuri’s Dior: The Legacy No One Expected

Did We Just Witness the End of Maria Grazia Chiuri’s Era at Dior? This could be it—as we know it.

For years, I was one of those opinionated voices in the conversation questioning why Maria Grazia Chiuri’s creative vision never seemed to fully translate into relevant fashion. I asked things like: Why did people talk more about Dior’s ambassadors attending the shows than about the collections themselves? Why did she put belts on everything? Why did she recreate the same type of dress every single season?

Little did I know that, despite all the criticism and rants from fashion commentators, Maria Grazia still built a lasting brick in the Maison Christian Dior legacy. And she made LVMH a lot of money.

Here’s a personal confession: Maria Grazia’s Dior was the first fashion house that opened its doors to me. After years in the industry, I still remember that internship interview at the flagship store in Via Montenapoleone. The store manager’s first question? “What’s your zodiac sign?”

“I’m a Leo,” I said.

“Oh, that’s great! We need some Leos around here.”

That moment made something click. Maria Grazia Chiuri’s legacy wasn’t a continuation of Monsieur Dior’s personal tastes—it was an echo of her own, filtered through a feminine lens that aligned, somehow, with the brand’s DNA. Yes, part of my training involved learning about Monsieur Dior’s favorite flowers and his preferred colors, but the energy of the place? That was hers. Unmistakably female.

I was part of that put-together little team for a while—even though my nature has always leaned more toward anti-fashion brands. (I later found myself at Rick Owens, which suits me like a glove to this day.) But the world Maria Grazia created at Dior had a clear identity: the type of woman who wears a sheer embroidered dress to make a romantic statement, but still wants to look like a warrior. The intentions were there, even if the execution sometimes felt stuck—especially during the era of endless slogan t-shirts.

Still, in fashion—especially when a designer’s era ends after making a house millions—it’s worth remembering their intentions. Those stories matter. They deserve to be remembered.

Do I wish Maria Grazia had been more radical? Absolutely. Beyond that model she once sent down the Fall 2019 Couture runway dressed as a house. But we were all expecting her to behave like Galliano, while her strength came from a deeply personal direction—one that wasn’t always easy to understand. She is, in my opinion, a dreamy creative with a natural skill for making things commercial.

When I worked there, customers would ask to see the Book Tote 100 times a day. Then she made it customizable. She was part of the viral influencer era and built a cult following—mostly women—who loved what she did. In a fashion space dominated by critique, she carved out her own loyal audience. They adored the hundredth iteration of the Bar jacket with a belt. They bought every Book Tote variation. And believe it or not, some even preferred her version of the Saddle Bag over Galliano’s.

It’s true.

Maria Grazia Chiuri’s era at Dior is a fashion case study in how a creative vision that doesn’t land with everyone—especially the Galliano-obsessed archive intellectuals—can still succeed, still resonate, still make an impact.

And yes, hearing that her journey at Dior might be ending feels bittersweet. As a woman, it feels even more bittersweet. Because somehow, after all these years, I think she still deserves a major space in the creative direction of fashion. I know—shocking, coming from me.

In the end, she did a great job. This last Resort/Couture 2025 collection—shown in Rome alongside the news that she helped renovate a the Teatro della Cometa—brings it all full circle. Maria Grazia Chiuri was never just about clothes or fashion. She was about so many of the things women love: astrology, theater, flowers, strength, confidence, resilience and not caring about what people say.