Jaka jest tajemnica Karoliny? „Piję go każdego ranka na pusty żołądek, to wszystko” – Karolina 😯 Dzięki temu jej przemiana była możliwa!

Szostak to nie tylko dziennikarka, ale takze wiodaca prezenterka telewizyjna. Przez lata zwiazana byla z TV Polsat. Szostak prowadzi programy sportowe o najwiekszej ogladalnosci.
Bez watpienia to jedna z najbardziej atrakcyjnych oraz najpiekniejszych kobiet w Polsce. Zawsze znajdowala sie w samym centrum uwagi, a jej figura dodawala jej wdzieku.

Karolina zawsze byla bardzo skromna osoba i nie obnosila sie ze swoim obfitym biustem czy figura. Prezenterka zdecydowala sie na podjecie kroku doprowadzajacego do decyzji o pracy nad poprawa swojego zdrowia i figury. Jakie przynioslo tu skutki? Udalo jej sie zrzucic dwadziescia kilogramow, przez co teraz nie potrafimy oderwac od niej oczu. Jej priorytetem bylo oczyszczenie organizmu z toksyn i zrzucenie kilku kilogramow. Zastosowala niskokaloryczna diete bogata w owoce i warzywa.

„Chociaz sama dieta trwala szesc tygodni, jest ona tego w pelni warta! Poprzednio po zakonczeniu diety pozostawalam w dobrej formie przez okolo 2 tygodnie, lecz pozniej zaczynalam znow przybierac na wadze (jest to tak zwany efekt jo-jo), ale teraz po kilku miesiacach wciaz jestem w dobrej formie. Jest to jedyna dieta, ktora przyniosla efekty” – opowiada Karolina Szostak.

Dieta Karoliny bogata jest warzywa i owoce, a jej tworca jest Dr. Dambrowski. Uwaza on, iz dieta przynosi tak fantastyczne rezultaty, dzieki temu, ze stosujac ja konsumuje sie znacznie mniejsza ilosc kalorii niz potrzebuje nasz organizm (okolo 800 kalorii zamiast ponad 1200, co zalezy tez od osoby), a dzieki temu po zastosowaniu prowadzi do utraty masy ciala.
Trzeba pamietac spozywajac mniej kalorii od normalnego zapotrzebowania bedziemy w ciagu dnia odczuwac glod. Dlatego tez niezwykle istotne jest spozywanie niskokalorycznych proteinowych napojow mlecznych typu milk-shake, ktore sa bogate w blonnik, dzieki czemu powoduja uczucie pelnosci.

Dziennikarka twierdzi, iz to wlasnie te milk-shake’i sa przyczyna jej sukcesu. „Bez napojow proteinowych nie bylabym w stanie tak dlugo trzymac sie diety. Pomogly mi uniknac uczucia glodu, ktore znaja wszystkie osoby stosujace diety. Tak naprawde to moj sekretny sposob :)” – opowiada Karolina Szostak.
Diete powinno sie stosowac od 4 do 6 tygodni jako przygotowanie do zmiany nawykow zywieniowych i przejscia na zdrowszy tryb zycia. Powinno sie co pewien czas ja powtarzac, aby nasze cialo nie zapominalo zdrowych nawykow zywieniowych. Dzieki regularnemu stosowaniu tej diety, Karolinie udalo sie uniknac efektu jo-jo.

Dieta ta stosowana jest przez niektore z najwiekszych gwiazd Hollywood. Stosuja one podobna metode przed kazdym kolejnym filmem.

Przypadek Karoliny pokazuje, ze wszystko jest mozliwe, jezeli tylko mamy dobry plan i konsekwentnie go stosujemy! Prezentuje sie fantastycznie i jest szczesliwsza niz kiedykolwiek.

“Mam szczera nadzieje, ze udalo mi sie zainspirowac swoja historia przykladem inne kobiety w Polsce, udowadniajac im, iz sa w stanie osiagnac to samo, co ja. Bo jesli mi sie udalo, to uda sie kazdemu!” – opowiada dziennikarka

Lady Macbeth cuts a swathe across London fashion week

Formidable women influence proceedings at runway shows for Berardi, Erdem and Roksanda

The namedropping is pretty highbrow at London fashion week these days.

Lady Macbeth, Mark Rothko, John F Kennedy, Virginia Woolf and Eugene Delacroix were all referenced by designers before 11am on Monday morning, and Michael Nyman was there in person, playing the piano in a piece composed to accompany the Roksanda collection. Burberry are making Henry Moore the star attraction at their show later on in the day, with a catwalk that will double as the opening night of a sculpture exhibition.

This London fashion week is developing a distinctive look. It starts with a long, fluid skirt, a tight waist and a flourish at the cuff. The silhouette is elegant, but there is an element of grit in coarse, sensible tweeds, eiderdown quilting and thick velvet. A certain steely British femininity keeps coming up in backstage conversation, with the suffragettes, Tracey Emin and the Queen among the names being dropped.

And there is a common refrain among designers who speak of formidable women. For Antonio Berardi this was Lady Macbeth, the starting point for dramatic silhouettes in which dense fabrics were swathed about the shoulders and wrapped tight at the waist, with collars tipped high over the chin and skirts swirling at the knees, as if for an unimaginably glamorous walk in the Highlands.

Roksanda Ilinčić talked about how the influence of living in an extraordinary moment of history helped her crystallise her “warrior women” on the catwalk, whom she dressed in exquisite shades of carmine and rust she took from Rothko paintings she saw in the Royal Academy’s recent Abstract Expressionism exhibition.

Erdem imagined what the wardrobes of his great grandmothers – one from Turkey, near the Syrian border, the other of English and Scottish heritage – would have looked like together, merging Ottoman necklines with Victoriana bodices, and throwing in elements of Virginia Woolf for good measure, to dreamy effect.

“I like to imagine women’s stories,” he said backstage after the show. “I don’t have any photographs of my great grandmothers, so this is about their identities as I invent them, I suppose.”

Armani suits and bare feet: how Jean-Michel Basquiat created his look

There’s an image of Jean-Michel Basquiat on the cover of the New York Times magazine from 1985. The photo is by Lizzie Himmel; the headline New Art, New Money. The artist, wearing a dark Giorgio Armani suit, white shirt and tie, leans back in a chair, one bare foot on the floor, the other up on a chair. The combination of the suit and the bare feet is typical of the way Basquiat defined his own image; always with an unconventional bent.

I’ve obsessed over his style when standing in front of Hollywood Africans, a 1983 work from a series where the images relate to stereotypes of African Americans in the entertainment business. It is a banger of a painting and will form part of Basquiat: Boom for Real, a retrospective opening at the Barbican in London this month.

I have a longstanding interest in the way artists dress, from Picasso to Hockney, Georgia O’Keeffe to Robert Rauschenberg, and I think their wardrobes exert as powerful an influence on mainstream fashion as those of any rock or Hollywood stars. These artists carved out instantly recognisable uniforms: clothes that symbolise the same singular point of view as their greatest works, usually with the sense of complete ease that is the holy grail of true style.

Basquiat’s wardrobe was distinctive, whether he was in mismatched blazer and trousers with striped shirt and clashing tie, or patterned shirt with a leather jacket pushed off his shoulders. He was perhaps most recognisable in his paint-splattered Armani suits. “I loved the fact that he chose to wear Armani. And loved even more that he painted in my suits,” Giorgio Armani says. “I design clothes to be worn, for people to live in, and he certainly did!”

In many ways, this bricolage approach to clothing is akin to the way he created his art. “His work was a mysterious combination of elements – text and colour, historical reference, abstraction and figurative techniques,” Armani says. “In his life, he also mashed up creative activities – he was a graffiti artist, a musician, an actor, a maker of great artworks. This eclecticism made him a mysterious and unconventional man. That mix made him stand out.”

Born in Brooklyn, Basquiat and classmate Al Diaz graffitied statements across New York as SAMO© in the late 70s, before he went on to become one of the biggest stars of the 80s art scene with his unique and brilliantly chaotic paintings. He died in 1988 at just 27, but is still regarded as one of the most influential painters of his generation. A painting from 1982, Untitled, sold this year for £85m, putting him in a unique club alongside the likes of Picasso in terms of record-breaking sales.

“He was an incredibly stylish artist,” says Barbican curator Eleanor Nairne. “He was very playful about the performative aspects of identity.” He was also aware of the “renewed fixation on celebrity” that coincided with the art boom of the 80s, particularly in New York. He famously appeared in Blondie’s Rapture video, dated Madonna and befriended Andy Warhol.

Cathleen McGuigan, who wrote that 1985 New York Times feature, recounts Basquiat at the hip Manhattan hangout Mr Chow’s, drinking kir royal and chatting to Keith Haring while Warhol dined with Nick Rhodes of Duran Duran nearby. “He attracted the attention of Warhol and Bowie, so was endorsed by those who had already achieved that rare style-icon status,” Armani says. “And he had a very unique look – he had hair as distinctive as Warhol’s and wore suits in a way as stylish and relaxed as Bowie.”

Basquiat’s interest in clothing was not just something he explored or exploited at the height of his fame. In Basquiat: A Quick Killing In Art, by Phoebe Hoban, clothes are an important part of his life story. His mother had at one point designed them, while one of his teachers noted he had pencils sticking out of his hair from an early age. Soon after he killed off SAMO© he was painting sweatshirts, lab coats and jumpsuits for Patricia Field, who gave him one of his first shows at her East Eighth Street boutique. Descriptions of his stirring appearance include this by American curator Diego Cortez: “I remember on the dancefloor seeing this black kid with a blond Mohawk. He had nothing to do with black culture. He was this Kraftwerkian technocreature … He looked like a Bowery bum and a fashion model at the same time.”

Basquiat went on to model in a 1987 Comme des Garçons show wearing a pale blue suit, black buckle sandals, white shirt and white bow tie. Robert Johnston, style director at British GQ, describes Basquiat’s style as “a work of art in itself” and adds: “While meaning no disrespect to his talent, it is hard to imagine he would have taken New York so much by storm if he’d looked more like Francis Bacon.”

Basquiat’s influence on menswear is still felt today. While other icons have referenced his style – Kanye West sported a T-shirt bearing his portrait, Frank Ocean namechecked him in lyrics by Jay-Z, who dressed as him for a Halloween party – there is a more direct effect on fashion. There have been collaborations, via his estate, with the likes of Reebok and Supreme. There’s a photo of Basquiat wearing an Adidas T-shirt with a pinstripe suit which is a template for how the younger generation approach the idea of tailoring. At the S/S 18 shows in Milan, wonky ties with suiting at Marni made me jot down “Basquiat” in my notebook. And with the Barbican show his influence will spread. “The way Basquiat mixed classic tailoring with a downtown nonchalance fits the mood in menswear,” says Jason Hughes, fashion editor of Wallpaper*. “A refined suit worn with an unironed shirt, skewwhiff tie and beaten-up sneakers. The fact that he painted in those suits feels slightly anarchic and nonconformist. I want to wear a suit like that.”

How fashion’s new obsession with office dressing made me feel like an 80s throwback

It’s a normal Tuesday morning in the office and people are staring at me. They look me up and down as I fill my water bottle. They give me side eye in the lift. This is not an anxiety dream. This is real life. My appearance is inspiring unspoken questions in my colleagues. Namely: what on earth is she wearing? And why?

What I am wearing is an Isabel Marant suit. It is woollen, grey and double breasted, with burgundy stripes and softly padded shoulders. In the Guardian’s proudly dressed-down environment, where jeans and T-shirts are practically compulsory, I am an aberration.

It’s not just scruffy journalists who don’t wear suits in 2017. The world of work is in flux, and the world of workwear with it. In an age of telecommuting and the gig economy, the old rules are eroding. Formal attire is not extinct, quite yet, but it is endangered. MPs are no longer required to wear ties in the House of Commons; titans of industry wear hoodies as often as pinstriped suits.

As we face these anxieties, trust the fashion industry, in all of its contrariness, to back the corporate look in a big way, with designers from Céline to Calvin Klein sending suits down the catwalk. Meanwhile, a wonkier take on office wear – shirts spliced with blazers, herringbone jackets fashioned into strapless dresses – has become the calling card of brands including Palmer//Harding and Monse. Menswear has gone managerial, too. At Balenciaga the concept has spread from the clothes to the entire brand aesthetic, with business cards used as show invitations and boardroom carpet providing the backdrop for ad campaigns.

Fashion’s corporate fascination has piqued my own interest in trouser suits for the first time since graduation. My usual work clothes are – and I deliberately employ a fancy word here to make this seem more aspirational – deshabille. The hard-cornered boardroom aesthetic isn’t part of my fashion vocabulary for the same reason that I don’t have a LinkedIn profile. Working in the dressed-down media is a big part of my identity, as is the lack of delineation between office and weekend clothes. On the moodboard in my mind’s eye is Kate Moss’s bedhead hair and the tousled insouciance of Carine Roitfeld’s casually misbuttoned silk blouse. Sadly, crumpled chic is rather less iconic the way I wear it – not least because I’m 5ft tall – but I’d rather be a bit of a mess than look as though I’m trying too hard.

Wearing a suit feels physically weird. It’s a lot more fabric than I would usually put on my body. I’m hot. So hot that I tug at my collar like a dodgy banker in a movie about insider trading. Meanwhile, my colleagues appraise me, coolly. “It’s a conspicuous look,” one says. Another adds that I look “intimidating” and “a bit like a carpet”. “You look fucking powerful,” another says. He is smiling, but I sense a chasm between us. The stiff wool boxes me in, surrounds me completely. I feel weirdly isolated, as though I have set myself up in opposition to the tribe.

The next day I trot into the office in high heels and a Stella McCartney checked coat-dress and one co-worker trills: “Oh, here she is, executive realness has arrived.” This phrase, well-known to viewers of Paris Is Burning and RuPaul’s Drag Race, is pertinent. Wearing double-breasted power tailoring does feel like a form of drag; a fantasy and a performance. It’s also screamingly 80s – other colleagues compare me to David Byrne and Working Girl – harking back to an era when power dressing manuals such as John T Molloy’s The Woman’s Dress For Success Book advised females to smash the glass ceiling with their shoulder pads. Molloy’s manifesto makes exhausting reading. Blouses should not be too high-necked or too revealing. Haircuts should not be too long or too short. Suits should ape men’s tailoring but femininity should be subtly preserved. Women should avoid sweaters and floral patterns “which say ‘lower class’ and loser,” he writes, charmingly. The history of women getting dressed for the office is so fraught that it almost feels as though somebody didn’t want us there.

Still, power dressing has its benefits. I don’t feel small any more. The finer details of my body shape feel irrelevant, which brings with it a sort of confidence. Occasionally, I interpret my own behaviour differently. After work, during my customary sprint from the tube station to my son’s childminder, I feel less like an utter failure for resorting to running and more like a high-flying, productive individual for whom walking is not sufficiently quick.

I like this feeling of pulled-together efficiency. But the exaggerated lines of this outfit – the shoulder pads – are making me self-conscious. I feel like a throwback to an era when a different battle was being fought. Power dressing is still fraught with difficulty for women, of course, as the furore caused by Hillary Clinton’s scrunchies and Theresa May’s leather trousers proves. But the suit is not the neat solution that it pretended to be in the 80s. Author and editor Tina Brown, a keen suit wearer until recently, says: “When I look back I see how very overdressed we were with bigger shoulders. There was a sense that we had to be almost aggressively put together to make a statement, which is not where we are now or where we want to be.”

The next outfit on my agenda is very different: a wilfully anti-fashion fitted shirt, tie and tie clip, inspired by the menswear catwalks of Balenciaga, Martine Rose and Gosha Rubchinskiy. This looked achingly cool on the catwalks. Recreated via an M&S shirt and Acne Studios trousers because my body is not long enough to do menswear, it does not look cool on me. Alistair O’Neill, professor of fashion history and theory at Central Saint Martins, reminds me that this trend is all about context. Fashion designers have long been fascinated by workwear – think of the lumberjack shirts worn in city centres, not forests. This time it’s white-collar work being mined for inspiration. True Gosha disciples, he points out, would wear this “to a club, or to go shopping, or when off to the skate park. The dissociation from office culture is what will make the clothes so enjoyable to wear by those who will consume them as fashion.” Sadly, I am not hip enough to make this look work. I feel a bit like Melissa McCarthy in Bridesmaids, with a touch of Melissa McCarthy as Sean Spicer, brisk and no-nonsense, as though I am holding an invisible clipboard. Or, as a co-worker says: “I’m scared that you’re about to make us do a team-building exercise.”

The fourth and final look is a breeze, literally and figuratively. It’s a billowing take on a striped shirt from Palmer//Harding. For the first time in days, I am not overheating. When I walk into the office my colleagues seem relieved. “I’m into it,” our stylist says – the ultimate compliment. Then she strokes the fabric of the cuff, appreciatively. I am approachable, again.

The shirt is the perfect soft power garment. I also love the bag I carry with it: a huge Balenciaga tote with corporate-style logos running across it diagonally. The logos bring to mind the branding of desk phones and photocopiers; the unglamorous insignia that permeated our lives before the sleek black and grey lines of iPhones and iMacs took over. It is these details – the little logos, the business cards and tie clips – that are so evocative. They remind me of how much has changed in office lives, in the 15 years since I started working, and how much will continue to change. You know, when the robots take over. Against this context, the mundanity of an office – its paperclips, staplers and tea runs – has become a source of nostalgia, something to be cherished.

The princess and the platforms: how these Gucci trainers became a symbol of excess

If Marie Antoinette had lived in the Snapchat age, would she be wearing £640 Gucci platform trainers? That is the question on everyone’s lips today, as we survey the fallout from Crown Prince Pavlos and Princess Olympia of Greece’s joint 50th and 21st birthday party.

In case you missed it, the pair threw a bash at an 18th-century manor house in the Cotswolds, and it was pretty relaxed. Just a few dozen viscounts, the queen of Holland, King Felipe of Spain, some Delevingnes, some Hiltons and a man intriguingly referred to by the Daily Mail as a “society osteopath”.

Given the mess that the Greek economy is in, and the fact that Greece doesn’t actually have a royal family, photographs of the world’s wealthiest doing the conga around gold-plated pineapples and pyramids of macaroons haven’t gone down brilliantly on social media. But the standout symbols of the furore were fashion-based: Olympia’s trainers, which were centre-frame in countless social media posts, owing to the cunning deployment of a series of Instagram-friendly chorus-line-leg-bend poses.

Here’s what we know about the shoes. They are gold nappa leather overlaid with the Gucci brand’s red-and-green striped logo. They have an 8.5cm foam rainbow platform. They were part of Gucci’s 2017 Resort collection, which was presented in Westminster Abbey, and it’s a bit of a shame, in a way, that they have become a symbol of the excesses of the super-rich, given that Gucci creative director Alessandro Michele conceived of them with the best of intentions.

The earnest Walter Benjamin-quoting designer – the man behind the “geek chic” renaissance at the Italian superbrand – made them as a homage to Britain, taking inspiration from club-kid platforms of the 90s and the creepers of the New Romantic era. There was speculation that they had also been designed in honour of gay pride, which would be very on-brand for the new Gucci, which delights in celebrating inclusivity in its explorations of gender-fluid fashion and ethnically diverse cast of muses and models. Still. They do cost 640 quid. Which is quite a lot, even in the ever-escalating world of high-end trainers.

The fact that trainers have recently become part of the fashion vernacular has inspired a rash of unbelievably costly styles. On sale right now are studded Christian Louboutin high tops for £1,995, appliqued denim plimsolls by Valentino for £770, Rick Owens high tops for £697 and Giuseppe Zanotti mid-tops for £950, which feels a bit unnecessary given that the Reebok Club C85 – on sale for about £40 – has recently been hailed as the fashion trainer of the season.

These are not for the sneaker-heads, either, who seek out exclusive trainer styles, not expensive embellishment. For dedicated hypebeasts the holy grail is the drop of cult, limited edition kicks, such as the Yeezy Boost by Kanye West, which sell for about £150 and resell on eBay for upwards of £350. Instead, these are trainers designed for the feet of the super-rich, which must be always swathed in precious skins and diamante.

Though there is the one style that unites the trainer nerds and the billionaires: the Vetements x Reebok Instapump Fury, a model that quickly sold out despite its $760 (£586) price tag. These are squishy, oversized 90s trainers covered in meaningful doodles – “I’m bored”; “no future”; “minority” – something you could try at home with a pair of clean Reebok Instapump Furys (£87.46) and a felt tip pen if you are feeling creative. Plenty of fashion fans on a budget this season already have, which feels a lot less daft than dropping the price of a sofa on a pair of trainers.

Anthony Vaccarello makes a brazenly sexy debut at Saint Laurent

The Belgian-Italian designer’s first show for the Parisian house was full of clothes almost exclusively not suitable for work

For Anthony Vaccarello, the solution to the problem of going forward at Saint Laurent came from going back. Tuesday evening in Paris marked the Belgian-Italian designer’s first show for the Parisian house, following its previous, incredibly successful, four-year reboot by Hedi Slimane.

Arriving at the venue – the half-finished HQ of the brand – invitees were greeted by a giant neon Yves Saint Laurent logo, originally designed in the early 1960s and conspicuously absent in the Slimane era. Against a couldn’t-have-asked-for-better sunset, it was a moment curated for Instagram. A cluster of editors were happily obliging – and suddenly an iconic idea of Saint Laurent was resurrected in the most modern of contexts.

The same principle went through the collection that followed this stunt. The logo was the heel of stiletto shoes, earrings, and on the ankle of 10 denier tights. The designs also played on Saint Laurent’s original work, mostly from the 1980s. Black dominated, often in leather. There were nods to Le Smoking jackets, transparent chiffon blouses and party dresses worthy of Loulou de la Falaise at Le Sept, but nothing was explicit. Instead, after the show, Vacharello, after greeting guests including Amber Valetta and Jane Birkin, said he was inspired by “the idea of Saint Laurent”.

A press release sent out afterwards provided a little more detail. It referenced Saint Laurent muse, Paloma Picasso, who inspired the 1972 ‘Scandal’ collection, as well as the tuxedo, a sailor coat and a specific dress with exaggerated sleeves that Vacharello discovered in the archives. “Anthony Vaccarello has let himself get carried away by the images of the designer,” it read.

Vaccarello’s aesthetic shares a certain rock’n’roll sensibility with Slimane’s indie-influenced work. But at both his own brand and work with Versus, his designs are more brazenly sexy. The clothes in this show were almost exclusively not suitable for work, with short hemlines, bare breasts and asymmetrical necklines. It was an after-dark-only collection, but styling tricks stopped it from being a period piece.

Models wore little makeup, their hair loose, with slouchy jeans. Some had either biker boots or brogues with socks, a sweetness that contrasted with leather basques and PVC macs. This collection could be seen as a logical next step to Slimane’s outgoing one. Shown in March, it was an ode to 1980s nightclubbing.

The new creative director would be foolish not to take heed of his predecessor. Slimane, in his four years in charge, was commercial dynamite for the brand. Revenues were £839m in 2015, up from £609m in 2014. Vaccarello was announced as Slimane’s replacement in April. In a statement announcing his appointment, Francesca Bellettini, president and CEO of Saint Laurent, commented that Vaccarello “impeccably balances elements of provocative femininity and sharp masculinity in his silhouettes”.

Slimane’s next move is unclear. He will be awarded around £10m by Saint Laurent’s parent company, Kering, following a dispute regarding his exit package from the brand. Rumours persist that the designer may be in line to replace Karl Lagerfeld at Chanel when the octogenarian designer decides to retire, or he may launch his own label.

Other debuts this fashion week see women designers moving into positions more recently held by men. The relative unknown Bouchra Jarrar will show her first collection for Lanvin on Wednesday and Maria Grazia Chiuri – ex of Valentino – does the same at Christian Dior on Friday.

Chiuri is the first female designer to take up the Dior helm in the house’s nearly 60-year history. Her work at Valentino with creative partner Pierpaolo Piccioli since 2008 has gained fans for its modern, younger take on femininity. Chiuri’s Dior is set to be one of the most anticipated shows of the week.

Newer labels are gaining hype with an aesthetic that has more of a street edge to it. Tuesday had shows from Koché and Jacquemus – both brands led by a new generation of Paris designers, playing with sportswear and staples such as trenches in new ways.

This new mood for Paris is further emphasised with street labels from America – Rihanna’s Fenty Puma line and Virgil Abloh’s Off White – also on the Paris schedule, both with shows on Wednesday.

Sense and sensuality: Dior embraces female artists while Saint Laurent sparkles

The careers of Christian Dior and Yves Saint Laurent were intimately intwined in the 1950s, but the megabrands that live on in their names – both of which presented their spring/summer 2018 collections on Tuesday in Paris – have developed quite different approaches to fashion.

At Dior, the tone was set by a copy of Linda Nochlin’s groundbreaking 1971 feminist essay Why Have There Been No Great Women Artists? left on every seat. That treatise on art history and the patriarchy became a key part of the show, its title used as a slogan on a Breton T-shirt worn by the first model.

Explorations of female power have particular resonance at Dior, whose founder famously redrew the lines of femininity in the post-war era with the New Look, and which has recently appointed the first female creative director in its 70-year history, Maria Grazia Chiuri.

The show had a second high-brow reference in the artist Niki de Saint Phalle, whose aesthetic also featured heavily, with motifs based on her brightly coloured sculptures and mirror mosaics echoing throughout the collection. “She was a rebel,” said Chiuri. “She was a very revolutionary woman, really inspiring was really strong in her self.”

Saint Phalle’s own dress sense – her trademark little blue veiled berets was on the catwalks, seen also in Wednesday Addams-esque outfits, such as a striped shirt with sharply pointed collars worn underneath a black corset dress, that Saint Phalle might have worn in her more emo moments. There was a lot here that felt a bit Beetlejuice, including checkerboard prints on coats and bags and black and white striped knee-high socks and hot pants trimmed with Christian Dior branding, that were visible under the pretty tulle dresses that have become Grazia Chiuri’s Dior calling card.

This is not the first time that Chiuri has created a feminist T-shirt: the stand out item from her debut collection was the Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie quote “we should all be feminists”. Chiuri’s silhouettes tend to be straightforwardly flattering – a corset top nipped in at the waist with a layered tulle skirt – rather than the sort of awkward highly-styled designs that win critical plaudits at other houses.

She has received some critical flak for her accessible approach but has remained doggedly true to her trademark tropes regardless. Like those quotes, her brand message is straightforward, upbeat and globally digestible by fans such as those at the show who sat eagerly taking in their Dior berets taking photographs of the cover of Linda Nochlin’s essay and posting it on Instagram.

Backstage, Chiuri’s description of the relationship between women’s lives and their clothes was convincing: “Sometimes we think that fashion changes women but what really happens is the opposite. Women change, and so fashion has to change as well.”

Later on Tuesday night, the presentation of Saint Laurent’s spring/summer 2018 collection felt more like the set of an incredibly chic sci fi movie than a fashion show. It was staged outside, in an epic runway built in Paris’ historic Place de Varsovie. Dry ice wafted through the air as the Eiffel Tower lit up and sparkled in background.

It was the guests who really brought the otherworldliness to proceedings, however, with the brand’s fans, such as Lenny Kravitz and Lou Doillon, decked out in outfits including sleek black tuxedo jackets with glittering silver lapels, thigh-high silver disco boots with cone heels and mini dresses with extended crystal shoulders that gave their wearers the air of intergalactic power dressers.

Anthony Vaccarello, Saint Laurent’s creative director of three seasons, took a rather more sensual tack than his peer at Dior when describing his collection, describing the Saint Laurent woman as “a dark angel with a sensual allure [who] drapes herself in black-sequinned dresses, shining like the asphalt after the rain”.

Robin Wright, Lenny Kravitz and Lou Doillon on the front row.
Robin Wright, Lenny Kravitz and Lou Doillon on the front row. Photograph: Felizzano/WWD/REX/Shutterstock
On a practical note this meant legs for days (Kering and LVMH’s pact to stop using size zero models – and underage models – on the catwalks and in advertising campaigns does not seem to have led to a huge amount of size diversity yet) and a piratey silhouette of shorts with blouson tops closing by a brilliant – if difficult to imagine wearing to the shops – parade of huge, 80s-influenced bubble dresses.

There were quotes on every seat, in tribute to Pierre Berge, Saint Laurent’s former lover and life-long business partner, who was in attendance at the last Saint Laurent fashion show in February but died, at the age of 86, in September.