Paris Fashion Week Diary

Fashion Week in Paris is not merely an industry event — it is a state of mind. The city transforms. Every restaurant is fully booked, every hotel lobby becomes a stage, and the streets themselves turn into an impromptu runway. I arrived on Monday with two suitcases and a schedule that would have exhausted a lesser woman.

The Dior show at the Musée Rodin was breathtaking. Maria Grazia Chiuri sent models through the sculpture garden in gossamer gowns that seemed to float rather than move. Afterwards, I slipped away to a private fitting at Chanel on Rue Cambon — a ritual I look forward to each season.

By Thursday evening, I was happily exhausted. A quiet dinner at Chez Janou in the Marais, a glass of Burgundy, and the satisfaction of a week lived fully. Paris during fashion week reminds me that beauty is not frivolous — it is essential.