When one thinks of Celine Dion, a certain Titanic theme song springs to mind. It was never considered cool to have her entire back catalogue of music (no shame) but when Dion’s beloved husband Renee passed away last year – she had known him since she was 12 – the world looked at her with a newfound level of respect as she publically and gracefully grieved the loss of the love of her life. And another way of coping with the grief was to embrace knee-high boots and haute couture fashion – she did in life what we watched Carrie in SATC do with aplomb; use fashion to help heal heartbreak.
And now, she’s the best thing about Paris Fashion Week. Clapping, whooping, posing on the hood of cars, working the front row next to the more demure Anna Wintour, she is pulling out all the stops. She’s a showgirl (and a record-breaking performer – currently the most profitable music act to ever have worked in Las Vegas) and the pure joy she brings to every designer item she sports is a delight to behold. She is unashamedly herself, glowing and happy, with Dior handbags in tow.
Celine Dion is frustrated by fashion’s current revolving door policy, the relentless firings and hirings at the top (amen to that!). She is concerned that “the dream” of elegance is disappearing, for as much fun as she had in her beloved Vetements Titanic sweatshirt (and we have Law Roach for that brilliant post-ironic gesture!), she believe in the magic of hats, gloves and total looks, of a world in which Lisa Fonssagrives could step from the pages of Vogue and through the doors of today’s Ritz. Mostly she laments the red carpet hordes with the incessant questions about whose clothes and jewels one is wearing. “Mine” is her answer. Fashion is public for Celine; jewelry is personal. Sometimes, when she is at home in Las Vegas and missing her partner Rene, she slips on a caftan and all her jewels, and quietly retreats to her bath, sans children, sans fans, sans circus. #CelineTakesCouture Photo by @sophfei.
Let us take a leaf out of Celine Dion’s book and dress; devil may care, any way we damn please.