## The Fitting
The Fitting
Virginie Viard stands in the atelier on rue Cambon with her arms crossed, watching a jacket hang wrong. The sleeve is fine. The shoulder is fine. The problem is the skirt — too much ease at the hip, which throws the whole silhouette forward. She doesn't raise her voice. She points, the première nods, and the model steps back behind the screen. This is how most of Viard's days go. Quiet correction. Incremental rightness.
She has been creative director of Chanel since 2019, though she'd been inside the house for three decades before that. The appointment surprised no one who worked there and confused almost everyone outside it. Viard was not a name. She did not court press. She had spent thirty years as Karl Lagerfeld's right hand, his studio director, the person who translated his sketches into garments that could actually be worn. When he died, she inherited not just his title but the near-impossible task of following him without imitating him.
Five years in, the question is no longer whether she can do it. The question is what, exactly, she is doing.
Apprenticeship
Viard did not come up through Central Saint Martins or the Royal Academy. She studied at the École Supérieure des Arts Appliqués Duperré in Paris, a school known more for rigour than for fantasy. Her first job was with Dominique Borg, a costume designer, which meant learning construction for movement rather than for stillness. Theatre clothes have to survive eight shows a week. The seams hold or they don't.
She joined Chanel in 1987, initially working on haute couture embroidery coordination. Lagerfeld noticed her and brought her into the studio as his assistant in 1997. By 2000, she was studio director. The role is not ceremonial. It means overseeing fittings, managing the atelier, ensuring that what Lagerfeld sketched on Monday could be toiled by Wednesday and shown by Friday. It also meant absorbing his references — Proust, Visconti, Cecil Beaton, 1920s Vienna, 1980s Memphis — and understanding which ones would land in a jacket and which ones were just conversation.
Lagerfeld worked fast. Viard worked faster. She learned to anticipate, to edit, to know when a sleeve needed another half-inch and when it needed to be scrapped. She learned, in other words, how to make Chanel without being Chanel.
The Pivot
When Lagerfeld died in February 2019, Viard was the obvious choice, which is not the same as being the popular one. The fashion press wanted a star. Chanel gave them a technician. Her first solo collection, fall 2019, showed a month after his death. It was quiet. Lots of navy. Lots of tweed. Skirt suits with flat boots. The critics called it safe, which was true, and uninspired, which was not. Viard was not interested in revolution. She was interested in what a woman might actually put on in the morning.
Her training shows in the cut. Chanel jackets under Viard have less padding in the shoulder, more ease through the body. The skirts sit lower on the hip. The tweeds are lighter — often 10oz or under, sometimes blended with silk or cotton rather than the denser worsteds Lagerfeld preferred. She has also leaned into knitwear, which makes sense for someone who spent years watching models struggle into couture gowns. A cardigan jacket in fine-gauge wool works the same way as a tweed one, but it moves.
Her references are narrower than Lagerfeld's, but they go deeper. She returns to the 1980s and 1990s — not the Memphis side, but the moment when Chanel was still a wardrobe rather than a logo. She has cited Inès de la Fressange and Carole Bouquet, both house muses under Lagerfeld, but also her own mother, who wore Chanel in the 1970s. The through line is ease. Not casual ease, but the ease of a woman who knows what suits her and no longer needs to prove anything.
Signature
If Viard has a signature, it is restraint. Her shows are smaller than Lagerfeld's. No replica Eiffel Tower, no imported iceberg, no full-scale brasserie. For spring 2023, she showed in the Grand Palais with the models walking through an orchard of blooming trees. It was pretty. It was also, by Chanel standards, almost modest.
The clothes themselves have become more consistent. Viard works within a narrow range — tweed, jersey, silk crêpe, broderie anglaise — and she works it thoroughly. A tweed jacket might have a detachable collar, or sleeves that unzip at the elbow, or a belt that threads through the lining. The innovation is in the utility, not the spectacle. She has also brought back the day dress, which had largely disappeared under Lagerfeld. Simple shapes in navy or black, often with a white collar or cuffs. The kind of thing that works for a meeting, a lunch, a fitting.
Her eveningwear is less certain. She does embroidery well — hardly surprising, given her background — but the silhouettes tend toward safe. Long, lean, often black. When she reaches for volume, it is usually in the sleeve or the skirt, rarely both. The spring 2024 collection included a series of tiered chiffon gowns that felt more like an experiment than a statement. They were beautiful. They were also forgettable.
The Next Chapter
Viard is now fifty-three. She has no obvious successor, which may be the point. Chanel is not a house that announces its plans. It moves quietly, incrementally, the way Viard herself works. The question is whether that approach can sustain a brand that still generates over $17 billion a year in revenue, much of it from handbags and beauty rather than ready-to-wear.
Her challenge is not creativity. It is clarity. Lagerfeld had a point of view that could be summarised in a sentence: Chanel, but make it now. Viard's point of view is harder to pin down, which may be why the press still struggles with her. She is not interested in making noise. She is interested in making clothes that work. That is a valid position. It is also, in 2025, a difficult one to sell.
The fitting ends. The jacket is re-cut. The skirt is taken in. Viard nods, turns, and moves on to the next look. There are thirty-six more to finish before the show. She will finish them. She always does.




