My Day at Dior: A Liaison Between Desire and Jouy

The champagne may have been joyful with bubbles, but it was I who was bursting with effervescence. 

It happened on December 30, 2018. I bought my first piece of Dior. A bag, of course. Specifically, the Dior book tote in canvas embroidered with a burgundy Toile de Jouy motif. Happy New Year to me!

I’d been thinking about that Dior book tote for days. To be honest, the book tote in general had been on my mind since it premiered as part of the Spring/Summer 2018 collection: a new bag with style to spare using a vintage pattern--the Oblique--culled from the House of Dior’s archives and reintroduced by current creative director, Maria Grazia Chiuri, for a new generation. I was enamored. So were a lot of other people. The Dior Oblique book tote was immediately sold out with a waiting list on which I did not wish to put my name. 

Fast forward to late fall and the release of the Dior Cruise 2019 collection. Once again the archives of the House had been culled. But this time inspiration was found in a toile that had originally been created for the walls of Monsieur Dior’s boutique in 1947. 

For those who don’t know, toile can refer to the fabric or the pattern on the fabric. A toile pattern is usually a pastoral scene repeated over and over. But Maria Grazia Chiuri updated this toile with lions, snakes, monkeys, tigers, giraffes. Those quiet pastoral scenes are now dotted with danger and the allurement of adventure.  

The Toile de Jouy book tote--which takes its name from the French town of Jouy-en-Josas, where toile has been produced since 1759--arrived just before Christmas. I couldn’t get it out of my mind. The pattern and the color had woven themselves together so completely in my brain that no matter how I tried I could not release myself from their grip. I checked dior.com almost daily to see if the availability at the 57th Street boutique in New York City had changed from “in stock” to “limited stock” or worse, the dreaded “out of stock.” 

I was a man obsessed. I even dreamt about it…twice. I woke from that first dream remembering the joy I felt from owning it. Every person I encountered as I walked down that dream street admired its beauty. Even awake, I could still feel the joy in my chest. Upon waking from the second dream I was left with no memories just a feeling of happiness.

A Dior bag does not come cheap. And it was an expense that I could not expend blindly. It's an investment. I mulled it over. I weighed my options. I talked to friends. I longed. I obsessed. I annoyed myself. 

In 1946, mere weeks shy of turning 42, Monsieur Dior founded his famed, and fabled, fashion house. He wasn’t a man in the midst of youth. He was a man 41 years wise and determined. World War II had ended. It was his time. He’d spent many years honing his skills in the French fashion Houses of Robert Piguet and Lucien Lelong. He even turned down an offer to breathe new life into the waning House of Philippe et Gaston. He knew what he wanted: his own House, his own name, his own rules, his own designs. 

Christian Dior is synonymous with glamour, beauty, style, strength, courage, and fearlessness.

I have long admired the man that I became aware of through my love of his gorgeously realized creative imagination. And the fact that he was 42 years old when he launched his first line only strengthens my admiration. It has long given me hope that anything is possible at any age. I’m 47, and while some see me as courageous, I’ve let fear get the better of me for more years than I care to think about. In Christian Dior, I see a man possessed with courage to start something new and a fearlessness that boldly transformed fashion. 

It was my time to engage with the glamour, beauty, and style. I was determined if not fearless.

As I walked east on 57th Street toward 5th Avenue, the awning, lighted in brilliant white illuminating the bold black name Dior, came into view. My pulse quickened. I was excited. I was nervous. I knew I didn’t have to buy the bag in order to step inside the boutique and see it. But I also knew I wanted the bag. My love affair with Dior goes way back.

As I stepped in front of the display window to the left of the entrance, I found myself relieved to see the mannequin I had seen on Christmas Eve still gracefully clutching the curved handles of the burgundy Toile de Jouy book tote. I felt an immediate sense of relief, as if I knew there would be a bag waiting for me inside, and that I would have no remorse in purchasing it. I walked through the glass doors.

Into the gleaming brightness I stepped, and there, past the towering red toile-covered giraffe, I saw the object of my desire. There were four of them beautifully displayed on a rack. I made a beeline. I asked the nearest sales associate if I could take one from the rack and was given permission. It was the first time I had admired its beauty up close. I already knew that each tote required more than 1,600,000 stitches and took over 42 hours to create, but as I held it in my hands I could see the artistry, and it was spectacular. 

I made my way to a woman standing at a display case behind me to inquire about some things of which I had questions.

There’s a certain expectation of bonhomie that comes with shopping in a high-end boutique like Christian Dior. But I never take that for granted. Probably because I don’t feel like I deserve it. I’m still a bit stuck in that stale mindset. However, I do deserve it as much as anyone else who desires that experience. So I proceeded, believing, if hesitantly, that I belonged.

That woman was Lauren, and it was serendipitous that she be my sales associate. You see, I had called the boutique the previous Friday to inquire about the bag. It was Lauren who had answered my questions. It was meant to be. 

Lauren was kind and so easy to talk to that she heard more about me than she probably wanted to hear. But she never let on that it was an imposition, choosing instead to participate with her own stories. She was generous with her time and attention. I felt like a queen. Say what you will about this being the sales associates job, I know when someone connects with me. I felt that she and I existed in our own little Dior world most of the time while I was there. 

A major desire of mine is to own my own “Bar” jacket. Introduced in Dior's inaugural collection of 1947, the “Bar” has been updated throughout the years by various creative directors during their tenure. It remains an iconic staple of the House. I felt comfortable enough with Lauren to ask her if she would help me figure out my size and fit. 

Up the stairs we went, past walls in motion with the Cruise 2019 fashion show. I took the bag with me. I barely put it down. Limited quantities and fear of loss can make one ridiculously possessive. 

Lauren indulged me in all things “Bar,” knowing that I wasn’t planning to buy the jacket, without a flicker of irritation. I’ve experienced that reaction before in an upscale boutique. It’s so disheartening. But on this day, the stars aligned to create for me the most exciting Dior experience I’ve had since my first trip to Paris when I stepped inside the Dior boutique at 30 Avenue Montaigne and breathed the air.

While my bag was being placed in its box--a piece of art itself--Lauren asked me if I wanted anything to drink: water, champagne? For a split second I thought “No.” I was feeling unworthy and undeserving; a waste of time. I quickly realized it, and that negative thought, of which I am so prone to default, was replaced with, “You’re in Dior! Have the champagne!” Lauren basically voiced that sentiment aloud.

Jouy directly translates to joy, and the liaison between my desire and the Jouy brought me nothing but. 

With my head swimming in champagne, I stepped into the chilled December air of a New York City evening and took my bag home.

Le reste c'est la beauté.

The Heels Are Killer in the Best Way at the Brooklyn Museum

How else can I begin except by saying I was giddy with controlled exuberance. It was as if I was alone in a world all my own (Michael Through the Looking Glass) as I stared at the encased heels all around me. These weren't just any heels though. These were “Killer Heels,” as in the ones currently on display in Killer Heels: The Art of the High-Heeled Shoe at the Brooklyn Museum.

Have you ever taken the time to really look at a pair of high-heeled shoes? To look beyond the color, the height, and the price tag? Get that pair of your most fabulous, treasured heels out of your closet and look at them. Look at the design elements, the craftsmanship, the architectural lines, the artistry, the creativity. Okay, so maybe the heels you have in your closet are not that interesting. Maybe you see them as just simple and plain. That may be true, but let me tell you, there are shoes in this world that are pure art; as beautiful and expressive as any painting by Monet, van Gogh, or Pollock. There are even people who can and dare to wear this art. The shoes may not always be comfortable, but one can't deny they are daring, provocative, wearable art forms.

There was no denying the artistry and creativity of the gorgeous shoes I smiled at, conversed about, and kept myself from drooling over as I ambled my way through the "Killer Heels” exhibit. There were so many different eras represented. The evolution of shoes on display. The styles (platform, stiletto, boot, mule, futuristic, etc), materials (leather, cloth, wood, metal, plastic, nylon, etc) and adornments (flames, metal spikes, crystals, hair, etc) pushing the limits beyond the boundaries of what one thinks a shoe can be, should be. Who's to say what a shoe can (or can't) be, anyway? If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, then fashion, much like art, is subjective. 

I spoke animatedly with a young woman about the Prada Flame Wedge Sandal (Spring/Summer 2012, below). I can usually spot a Prada shoe before I see the label. They stand out in the crowd. Miuccia Prada (Prada, Miu Miu) is a designer with a unique sense of style that, for me, at least with her shoes, is instantly recognizable. I often find myself questioning where one might wear a Prada shoe (answer: anywhere one wants). But more often than not I am thrilled by their imaginative and fanciful design elements. 

Prada Wedge Sandal in Rosso, Bianco, and Nero Leather, Spring/Summer 2012

With an older lady, whom I encountered jotting down notes over a 1960 Christian Dior/Roger Vivier evening slipper for the House of Dior (below), I exchanged thoughts on the heel of said slipper. Specifically its curved design. This particular heel could be the petite grand-mère of the heel on the fall 2014 Louis Vuitton curved-heel bootie, the “shoe to covet” this fall according the September issue of Harper's Bazaar. Invention is prone to reinterpretation and everything old can be new again.

Christian Dior, Roger Vivier for House of Dior. Evening Slippers, 1960

Fashion design thrives on imagination, limit-pushing creativity, the ability to envision then actualize. It can even beg for the update of a successful design from the past as with the heel on the aforementioned Dior/Vivier slipper. The heels in “Killer Heels” are the epitome of limit-pushing creativity, vision, and artistic expression. Just look below at the Julian Hakes "Mojito," 2012.Of course they aren't going to be for everyone, but neither is every shoe at Bergdorf’s or even…Payless. 

Julian Hakes. "Mojito," 2012

I appreciate interesting shoes. Men’s shoe choices are positively bland compared to those of women’s. I try to shake things up. In my own closet there’s a pair of chocolate brown Frye boots, a pair of blue leather Chukka’s with suede at the ankle, a pair of tan leather and ivy green suede saddle Oxfords, a pair of gray Wingtips adorned with a buckle or two. Those are just a few examples. I realize we’ve come a long way in color choices from the days of black or brown, but men are still limited to more conservative shoe choices than women. In recent years, thankfully, men have been able to express themselves by choosing shoes with pops of color in the heel or by changing the color of the laces. With the later, one not only gets to let his personality shine through, he can dramatically alter the look of the shoe by blasting the tediousness with a dash of whimsy. 

(left) A SHOE CAN BE. "Heliotrope," 2013 (right) JANTAMINIAU. "Tarnished Beauty," 2012

I mentioned the word personality in connection with shoes above. Personality is a great word to describe most, if not all, of the shoes in the "Killer Heels" exhibit. The inanimate objects of my admiration had so much personality they could rival some people. Shoes can be the centerpiece of an outfit. They can be the only bit of outrageousness in a beautifully tailored, but otherwise dull ensemble. I know I’ve been known to build an outfit around a pair of shoes. Wouldn’t it be refreshing if we all felt the freedom to let our personality run wild on our feet? Choose the height, choose the color, choose the style and design. If it makes you happy own it, then make the sidewalk your runway.

Maybe you’re a worshiper at the house of Blahnik or Louboutin, a lover of fantastical shoes, have a shoe fetish. Or maybe you’re merely interested in seeing shoes that aren't readily available just anywhere. If any of that sounds like you, then get thee to the Brooklyn Museum. You've got until February 15, 2015. Trust me when I tell you you don’t have to be wearing them to be lifted to their heights. 

Roger Vivier. "Rose N' Roll," Fall 2012