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Dior shows Maria Grazia Chiuri's cruise collection in Rome

Dior shows Maria Grazia Chiuri's cruise collection in Rome

Observer31-05-2025

French fashion house Dior showed creative director Maria Grazia Chiuri's cruise 2026 and fall-winter haute couture 2026 collections at a fashion show in the gardens of the Villa Albani Torlonia in Rome on Tuesday at night.
Guests sat under transparent umbrellas as models marched past on a gravel walkway lined with hedges. They paraded sheer gowns covered with lacework, textured dresses with rows of ruffles and long, tailored coats - mostly in white, ivory and nude colors. A sharp-shouldered trench coat, military jackets and tailcoats over skirts brought contrast to the airy looks, as did a few dresses in red or black velvet.
After the show, Chiuri rounded the gardens for her bow as the audience stood, cheering and clapping, while mist rose from the gardens.
The catwalk presentation, which drew on references to Italian cinema and theatre, follows last week's cruise fashion show from Louis Vuitton, another LVMH-owned label, in Avignon, France.
The shows come as the luxury industry grapples with a prolonged slump in business, and a number of high-end fashion labels are seeking new creative direction to reignite interest from shoppers.
Over the last five years, Chiuri has established herself as a groundbreaking leader, blending activism, craftsmanship, and innovation to redefine the brand's identity. Since taking the helm in 2016, Chiuri has championed feminism and social justice through her collections, making Dior a platform for powerful messages.
Dior shows Maria Grazia Chiuri's cruise collection in Rome
Her 2019 'We Should All Be Feminists' T-shirts became an instant icon, sparking global conversations about gender equality. Subsequent seasons incorporated slogans, symbolic motifs, and references to female empowerment, turning runway shows into potent statements. Chiuri's respect for Dior's heritage is evident in her reinterpretation of classic silhouettes, emphasizing artisanal techniques and sustainable practices. She has prioritized eco-friendly materials and collaborations that promote ethical production, aligning luxury with responsibility.
Her partnerships with contemporary artists and activists, including Judy Chicago, have expanded Dior's cultural impact, fostering dialogue around gender, identity, and creativity. These efforts have garnered widespread praise for authenticity and influence.
The 2025 show, held in Paris, marked a significant milestone. It showcased a daring new direction—mixing couture craftsmanship with futuristic design elements. Incorporating digital innovation and sustainable fabrics, the collection reflected Chiuri's commitment to modernity and environmental consciousness. Critics applauded the show for its boldness and relevance, emphasizing how Dior continues to evolve while maintaining its heritage.
As Dior advances under Chiuri's visionary leadership, her body of work exemplifies how fashion can be a catalyst for social change, blending tradition with contemporary activism. The 2025 show underscores her role as a transformative figure, shaping the future of luxury fashion rooted in purpose and innovation. —Reuters

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This Year's Hot New Tool for Chefs? ChatGPT.
This Year's Hot New Tool for Chefs? ChatGPT.

Observer

time4 days ago

  • Observer

This Year's Hot New Tool for Chefs? ChatGPT.

For four months in 2026, the Chicago restaurant Next will serve a nine-course menu with each course contributed by a different chef. One of them is a 33-year-old woman from Wisconsin who cooked under the pathbreaking modernist Ferran Adrià, the purist sushi master Jiro Ono and the great codifier and systematizer of French haute cuisine, Auguste Escoffier. Her glittering resume is all the more impressive when you recall that Escoffier has been dead since 1935. Where did Grant Achatz, the chef and an owner of Next, find this prodigy? In conversations with ChatGPT, Achatz supplied the chatbot with this chef's name, Jill, along with her work history and family background, all of which he invented. Then he asked it to suggest dishes that would reflect her personal and professional influences. If all goes according to plan, he will keep prompting the program to refine one of Jill's recipes, along with those of eight other imaginary chefs, for a menu almost entirely composed by artificial intelligence. 'I want it to do as much as possible, short of actually preparing it,' Achatz said. As generative AI has grown more powerful and fluent over the past decade, many restaurants have adopted it for tracking inventory, scheduling shifts and other operational tasks. Chefs have not been anywhere near as quick to ask the bots' help in dreaming up fresh ideas, even as visual artists, musicians, writers and other creative types have been busily collaborating with the technology. That is slowly changing, though. Few have plunged headfirst into the pool in quite the way Achatz is doing with his menu for Next, but some of his peers are also dipping exploratory toes into the water, asking generative AI to suggest spices, come up with images showing how a redesigned space or new dish might look, or give them crash courses on the finer points of fermentation. 'I'm still learning how to maximize it,' said Aaron Tekulve, who finds the technology helpful for keeping track of the brief seasonal windows of the foraged plants and wild seafood from the Pacific Northwest that he cooks with at Surrell, his restaurant in Seattle. 'There's one chef I know who uses it quite a bit, but for the most part I think my colleagues don't really use it as much as they should.' The pinball-arcade pace of a popular restaurant can make it hard for chefs to break with old habits. Others have objections that are philosophical or aesthetic. 'Cooking remains, at its core, a human experience,' chef Dominique Crenn wrote in an email. 'It's not something I believe can or should be replicated by a machine.' Crenn said she has no intention of inviting a computer to help her with the menus at Atelier Crenn in San Francisco. It is true that generative AI consumes vast amounts of electricity and water. Then there are the mistakes. According to OpenAI, the company that owns ChatGPT, 500 million people a week use the program. But it is still wildly prone to delivering factual errors in a cheerily confident tone. (The New York Times has sued OpenAI and Microsoft, the creators of ChatGPT and other AI programs, alleging they violated copyright law by training their chatbots with millions of Times articles. The two companies have denied that.) None of the chefs I interviewed takes the chatbot's information at face value, and none will blindly follow any recipe it suggests. Then again, they don't trust most of the recipes they find in cookbooks or online, either. Cooks, like other humans, are forgetful, distracted and hemmed in by their own experiences. AI has its shortcomings, but these aren't among them. Chefs who consult the big electronic brain when they're devising a new dish or dining room find it helpful for the same reason bands like working with producer Brian Eno: Some of its suggestions are so unexpected that it can jolt them out of a creative rut. 'You can get really hyper-specific ideas that are out of the box,' said Jenner Tomaska, a chef in Chicago. For the Alston, a steakhouse he opened Friday, Tomaska wanted a variation on the Monégasque fried pastry known as barbajuan. ChatGPT's earliest suggestions were a little basic, but as he fed it more demanding prompts — for instance, a filling that would reflect Alain Ducasse's style, steakhouse traditions and local produce — the fillings got more interesting. How about Midwestern crayfish, white miso and fresh dill, with pickled celery root on the side? 'It's a little bizarre, because I like to talk through these things with people, and I'm doing it with something that doesn't exist, per se,' Tomaska said. But arming himself with ideas from his solitary talks with ChatGPT, he said, 'does help bring better conversation to the creative process when I do have someone in front of me.' Visual renderings from AI helped chef Dave Beran talk to the architect and designer of his latest restaurant, Seline, in Santa Monica, California. He wanted a vibe that drew something from the shadowy, dramatic interiors of Aska in Brooklyn and Frantzén in Stockholm, but held more warmth. He kept prompting Midjourney to get closer to the feeling he wanted, asking it, for example, what if we had a fireplace that I wanted to curl up beside? 'That was the mood we were trying to capture,' Beran said. 'Not dark and moody, but magical and mysterious.' Midjourney's images looked like fantasy artwork, he thought. But the program acted as what he called 'a translator' between him and his designer, giving them a common language. At the moment, AI can't build a restaurant or cook a piece of Dover sole. Humans have to interpret and carry out its suggestions, which makes the dining rooms and dishes inspired by AI in restaurants less unsettling than AI-generated art, which can go straight from the printer to a gallery wall. True, some chef may put a half-baked idea from ChatGPT on the menu, but plenty of chefs are already do this with their own half-baked ideas. For now, AI in restaurants is still inspiration rather than the final product. Since Achatz's first serious experiments with ChatGPT, about a year ago, it has become his favorite kitchen tool, something he used to say about Google. Its answers to his questions about paleontology and Argentine cuisine helped him create a dish inspired by Patagonian fossils at his flagship restaurant, Alinea. Before opening his latest restaurant, Fire, in November, he consulted ChatGPT to learn about cooking fuels from around the world, including avocado pits and banana peels. It has given him countless ideas for the sets, costumes and storylines of a theatrical dining event somewhat in the mode of 'Sleep No More' that he will present this summer in Beverly Hills, California. Asked to evaluate how well Jill had integrated her training from Escoffier and Adrià in the dishes she proposed for Next, Achatz responded in an email. 'Jill knows or researched important chefs and their styles, which very few chefs under 40 process today,' he wrote. 'She is young, and while experienced, does not yet have the understanding of how to blend them seamlessly.' Years ago, he had similar blue-sky conversations at the end of the night with the talented cooks who worked with him at Alinea and Next, including Beran. He finds that batting ideas back and forth is 'not of interest' for some of his current sous-chefs. 'That dialogue is something that simply does not exist anymore and is the lifeblood of progress,' he said. ChatGPT, though, will stay up with him all night. —NYT

Rodin 'copy' sells for $1 million in France
Rodin 'copy' sells for $1 million in France

Observer

time11-06-2025

  • Observer

Rodin 'copy' sells for $1 million in France

The owners thought the sculpture perched for years on the corner of a piano was a Rodin copy, but after being declared as the real thing the small marble figure has now sold for one million dollars at auction, organisers said Monday. Described as an "extremely rare" find by auction organiser Aymeric Rouillac, the figure was in fact an 1892 work, "Despair" by Auguste Rodin, that had gone missing after being sold at auction in 1906. The work was put on sale at the weekend at an opening price of 500,000 euros, but eventually sold for 860,000 euros (one million dollars), according to Rouillac. The family had long believed the 28.5 centimetre (11 inch) figure of a sitting woman holding one foot was a copy of the legendary sculptor's work, said Rouillac. After the owners approached Rouillac about another matter, he and his team spent months investigating the origin of the sculpture, including even looking into the family's origins. He went to the Comite Rodin in March and the body that is considered the leading authority on the French artist confirmed its authenticity six weeks later. Rouillac said the committee found that "Despair" was sold at auction in 1906 and then disappeared from view. "So we have rediscovered it," he said. —AFP

How the Labubu becomes an unexpected cultural phenomenon even in Oman
How the Labubu becomes an unexpected cultural phenomenon even in Oman

Observer

time11-06-2025

  • Observer

How the Labubu becomes an unexpected cultural phenomenon even in Oman

I still remember the look on my face the day I met a friend for lunch and, in the middle of ordering, she pulled out what I first called an 'ugly doll'. Honestly, I thought she had brought along something kids would play with – a weird, slightly creepy plushy with a strange face. I didn't quite get the fuss until she held it up, dramatically, dressed in an outfit that looked straight out of a high-end boutique. Complete with Dior-inspired attire, a tiny stylish hat, and a tiny bag, this wasn't just any doll. It was a Labubu, and apparently, it's become quite the thing in Oman lately. That moment sparked a curiosity that's only grown since. Later that day, on our way to another shop in The Village mall, I stopped at a small store where the owner grinned and told me the dolls were flying off the shelves. He said it was his first time importing them, and they come in all colours — from the sweet pink to a bubbly blue, and the classic mocha brown. Some have freckles; others have sharp little teeth that make them look a bit mischievous. Once you see one, you can't unsee them. They seem to be everywhere now, popping up in social media stories, cafes, and even on family outings. A PR friend of mine, who's quite active online, admitted she has her own Labubu now. She's dressed it up in mini versions of designer outfits and shared snaps of it out on coffee dates and during her trips outside of Muscat. It's astonishing how these little figures have gained such popularity, with some people even taking multiple ones along on their errands. The store owner estimated the prices vary depending on how customised you want them, starting at around 15 Omani Rials and going up to 50 for fully personalised designs. The more intricate the outfit, the higher the price tag. Pieces specifically inspired by global fashion brands — like Dior, Gucci, or Louis Vuitton — are catching the eye of trendsetters. How the Labubu becomes an unexpected cultural phenomenon even in Oman How the Labubu becomes an unexpected cultural phenomenon even in Oman How the Labubu becomes an unexpected cultural phenomenon even in Oman Tracing the Origin of Labubu: From Niche Collectible to Oman's New Obsession So, where do these dolls actually come from? Although their rise in Oman is recent, Labubu has roots in online toy communities elsewhere. Initially created as quirky collectibles on social media, the dolls gained traction in the Middle East around 2022. Some conspiracy theories suggest they originated from small boutique creators in Japan or South Korea, but their current branding is heavily influenced by social media influencers and customisation enthusiasts. In Oman, their arrival coincided with the explosion of local Instagram and TikTok accounts showcasing mini fashion shows for their Labubu collections. The trend was aided by online forums and groups dedicated to custom-built toys. Many users have shared their stories about making the dolls unique, from adding tiny sunglasses to crafting miniature clothes inspired by international fashion brands. While some see the dolls as harmless fun, others in the online sphere debate their meaning and cultural impact. Critics on social forums argue that the trend might be superficial and promote materialism, especially among teenagers. Some social critics have voiced concerns over the dolls potentially promoting superficial beauty standards if the outfits mimic high-end fashion so closely. More seriously, there are religious debates swirling around Labubu, with some calling the dolls 'haram' because they resemble idols or representations that could lead to idol worship — a concern voiced by some scholars and religious conservatives. Others argue that the dolls are simply toys and should not be linked to religious or cultural taboos. Such discussions have been amplified by news outlets and opinion pieces, which highlight the tension between modern trends and conservative values. How the Labubu becomes an unexpected cultural phenomenon even in Oman How the Labubu becomes an unexpected cultural phenomenon even in Oman How the Labubu becomes an unexpected cultural phenomenon even in Oman Business analysts point out the impact of this trend on the local economy. Small businesses that began importing Labubu are now seeing significant sales, especially among younger consumers eager to customise their dolls or gift them to friends. The trend has created a niche market, with some entrepreneurs even offering personalised clothing and accessories for Labubu dolls. Two Weeks In: The Trend Grows Weirder and Wider It's been a fortnight since that first encounter, and I've started noticing the trend circulating more intensely. On social media, a radio personality I follow had a heated debate about the dolls on her show. She called it 'just an experiment' and later showed it to her daughter, who initially disliked it but now appears to have grown quite fond of her own Labubu. This casual acceptance indicates a shift — it's no longer novelty but part of everyday life. Walking through the mall the other day, I saw one woman with six Labubu dolls hanging from her backpack straps while shopping — a colourful parade of pinks, blues, and browns. I even found myself contemplating buying one, just to see what all the fuss was about. But then I laughed to myself, imagining my pet at home treating the doll like a doormat. The trend, bizarre as it seems, seems to be here to stay. What strikes me most is how something so seemingly trivial can grow into a full-blown cultural phenomenon. The owners of these dolls are making good money, especially as customisation options become more elaborate and in demand. For many, Labubu has become a symbol of personal expression or even a status symbol — a small, quirky item that you can dress up and show off on social media. How the Labubu becomes an unexpected cultural phenomenon even in Oman How the Labubu becomes an unexpected cultural phenomenon even in Oman How the Labubu becomes an unexpected cultural phenomenon even in Oman While some dismiss the trend as silly and superficial, others view it as a harmless form of creativity and fun — a way to add some colour and light-heartedness to daily routines. After all, in uncertain times, isn't it refreshing to find small things that make us smile or spark conversation? As long as it's enjoyed responsibly and doesn't harm anyone, trends like Labubu can be a good reminder that sometimes, happiness comes in the smallest packages. So, whether you love it, hate it, or are just plain curious — one thing's for sure: the Labubu trend is here, and it's not going anywhere anytime soon. Maybe, next time you're out and about, you'll spot one hanging from a backpack, or maybe you'll be tempted to join in. After all, in a world full of worries, a colourful doll dressed in Dior might just be the happiness boost we all need.

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