Everybody and their endearingly clumsy, unlined-dress-rocking bestie wears Dior these days, but it takes a certain nous ne savons quoi to really hit it out of le ballpark. Translation: If you’re bent on doing Raf proud, it helps to be French and effortlessly fabulous.
Although the multicolored stripes on her tulip-skirted dress remind us of candy-cane-related trauma — caused by the fruit kind, not the nice peppermint variety — Marion Cotillard is Marion Cotillard and that fact alone erased the bad taste from our mouths. The racer back, pockets and Martin Scorsese were just icing on the proverbial cake we surprisingly don’t feel like tearing into right now.
Barely there sandals and a low-key side-pony finished the comfy-looking ensemble. Might have the robin’s-egg-blue pumps that walked the runway worked better? Maybe — but head-to-toe is so not de rigueur.
this is some kind of spaceship or something.
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