Fashion designers at the top of their game rarely contend with modest bank balances. How they spend their fortunes is a sort of study in personal taste and public image: A private jet, or a fabulous yacht ready to spirit them from couture week to Caribbean hideaways? A portfolio of architectural landmarks? A palazzo on the Grand Canal? A wealth of options is at hand, but none holds much appeal for Maria Grazia Chiuri. As she exits Dior after a remarkable nine year run, she’s turned her gaze homeward—away from the polish of Paris, and toward the magnificent, loud soul of her native Rome.
In 2020 she purchased an historic jewel-box theater nestled in the Eternal City, called Teatro della Cometa. When she acquired it with the support of her famiglia—daughter Rachele, son Niccoló, and husband Paolo Regini—its former glory was little more than a shadow. Where others might see disrepair, Chiuri saw renaissance. She wasn’t betting on commerce or escape, but on art and culture.
The history of the theater is fascinating. Founded in 1958 by Countess Mimì Pecci Blunt—an eccentric and elegant figure from an aristocratic Roman family that traced its lineage to Pope Leo XIII—it quickly became a cultural landmark. The Countess surrounded herself with the leading intellectual and avant-garde figures of her time, from Jean Cocteau to Salvador Dalì, amongst other international artists, writers, musicians.
A fixture of the international jet-set, she famously staged the Bal Blanc in the 1930s in Paris—a dazzling all-white affair conceived in collaboration with Man Ray. The soirée inspired Chiuri’s Dior cruise collection, presented at Rome’s Villa Albani Torlonia, where she echoed Pecci Blunt’s original vision by inviting female guests to dress in white—just as the Countess had requested for her Bal.
Its artistic spirit was also echoed in the Teatro della Cometa’s inaugural performance, for which the designer brought together a team of creatives to produce a series of all-white tableaux vivants. Maria Luisa Frisa curated the reinterpretation of period costumes, crafted by the legendary Atelier Tirelli and displayed alongside Dior gowns; artist Pietro Ruffo designed the set on the theater’s revolving stage; director Lorenzo Salveti orchestrated the performance; and composer Paolo Buonvino created an original score.
The elegant Teatro della Cometa became an artistic extension of Pecci Blunt’s refined salon; after her passing, both the theater’s reputation and interiors suffered decline. But captivated by the Countess’s extraordinary legacy, Chiuri undertook a meticulous restoration, reviving the venue with the help of architect Fabio Tudisco, who restored it in the manner of the original, which was conceived by architect Tomaso Buzzi in the 1950s as a precious, baroque court theater.
I caught up with Maria Grazia Chiuri and her daughter, Rachele Regini, on a sun-drenched Roman terrace the morning after her final Dior show—where a soft rain had turned the runway into a misty cinematic affair, and Chiuri earned a standing ovation. We talked about why she’s betting on culture, how the Eternal City continues to shape her vision, and the fearless, very Roman spirit of adventure that keeps her moving forward.
Instead of channeling your resources into, say, a château in Bourgogne or a Parisian hôtel particulier, you chose to invest in something far less conventional—and far more generous: a cultural adventure. What sparked this vision? Where did the idea for the theater come from?
It originated from the fascination for a story—the story of Mimì Pecci Blunt. And also quite by chance. We came across these documents and sketches by Tomaso Buzzi, the eclectic architect who gave the theater its look. At the time, it was still part of the property owned by writer Gaia de Beaumont, Mimi Pecci Blunt’s granddaughter. Buzzi’s drawings were instantly captivating—not only for their beauty, but because they sparked Rachele’s and my curiosity, drawing us into the remarkable world of this extraordinary woman. We discovered how she had moved through all the major artistic movements of the 20th century, maintaining personal relationships with a wide range of artists, whom she would invite to her homes in Paris, Villa Marlia, Rome, and New York. At a certain point in her life, she decided that she needed to have a dedicated space—a private theater. At the beginning we had no intention of buying it, let alone managing it. But we definitely continued to be interested in her, because her life touched on so many themes we were passionate about, and involved many artists we admired. She had an incredibly strong network of international artistic connections, which even intersected with the research we were doing in Paris for Dior’s fashion shows.
So it was a personal interest of ours in the first place—almost like an archaeological dig into 20th-century culture and modernism, which, to be honest, I had never formally studied, but had always found fascinating. Later on, the opportunity arose to acquire the theater building itself, because the owners had decided to sell it. At the time, the theater was still active, with a regular drama program—in fact, my husband and I were subscribers. More than anything, we didn’t want it to be repurposed for something else, for some sort of cheap retail space, and our original idea was actually to keep the existing managers in place.
But then COVID happened, and the management decided not to renew the lease. Negotiating with the family that owned the property was quite complicated—also because it wasn’t just my decision. My husband, my son, and my daughter were involved too. We finally said: why don’t we renovate it? Especially after we discovered Tomaso Buzzi’s original beautiful sketches. We had fallen in love with them. That’s when the adventure began. We spent five years on research and renovation. We were lucky that there was an architect, Fabio Tudisco, who was already working in the theater and was passionate about its history—we worked with him on the restoration. So it was a series of very particular events and coincidences—and above all, the idea of giving this place back to the city of Rome.
Rachele, what is it that you enjoy about this adventure?
RR: We became passionate about Mimi’s story. It was almost like discovering a relative you’re connected to by a bond that transcends time. We became deeply engaged with her story, and it felt meaningful to have the opportunity to try to bring back the same spirit to the place she had created.
MGC: Her spirit truly fascinated us—it’s rare to come across such captivating personalities. I had a similar experience when I read Goliarda Sapienza’s book The Art of Joy. When I finished the book, I said: I want to buy the rights and make a film. Unfortunately, the rights had already been purchased, and Mario Martone’s film Fuori about her life was just presented at Cannes, with Valeria Golino in the lead role. Reading, discovering—these are powerful emotions for me, ones I immediately visualize and want to tell. When I realized I couldn’t produce the film from that book, I was devastated.
This is also closely connected to your creative work over all these years at Dior, isn’t it? I wouldn’t say that Mimì Pecci Blunt’s story is the cherry on top, but still… the fact that you’ve always spoken about femininity, feminism, female figures…
MGC: In women’s stories, you find things that reflect something of yourself—something personal, empathetic, authentic, something you feel truly exists. In their experiences, there’s always something that reminds you of yourself. And I have to say, all women have an incredible ability to overcome extremely complex moments, and they manage to do it through creativity. That’s what I believe—that women possess this kind of creativity that allows them to get through even impossibly complicated times. I think this is also true for many women artists, who manage to overcome the difficult aspects of their lives through their creative work. I find that very inspiring, because it offers a vision—a sense—of the possibility of a future.
This interest of yours in telling stories about the feminine—where does it come from? What sparked this desire to express it?
MGC: I owe that to my daughter, because my approach to my work has always been purely instinctive. Engaging with Rachele—who, unlike me, has a completely different and more culturally analytical approach to life—made me realize a lot of things. Ours is a very personal, generational dialogue. She was very critical of the role of fashion and challenged my approach to what fashion can represent. We experienced a time together when fashion had to take on more meaningful responsibilities.
RR: In the academic world I was part of—since I was attending university at the time—there was a very critical view of the role of fashion. Fashion has always played a role in producing images, speaking about femininity, and about bodies. That moment of awareness happened to coincide with the time she became creative director at Dior. And so the conversation between us revolved around: what does it mean to be a woman designer making clothes for women?
MGC: Because of my background, the focus was never really on the representation of women’s bodies, but more on the craftsmanship—the artisanal aspect of creation. Certain rights seemed to me to be already won, because my mother had already secured them for me, so I took them for granted. I had worked with women, like the Fendi ladies, where I was able to work with complete freedom. I saw those rights as acquired, almost obvious, and I was certain my daughter would have them too. My mother’s generation had already broken the taboos of divorce and abortion. Realizing that representing the feminine carried a different level of complexity was a shock. And approaching a different visual culture—one that wasn’t really present at the beginning of my career—was also a revelation. Ours was a culture of craftsmanship, as it was for many designers of my generation. Our idea of fashion was much more abstract, not so tied to the responsibility of representing women’s bodies.
RR: My critiques were meant to make her more aware, to encourage her to take on that responsibility, given the role she held. Then, when I started working with her, I understood what it really means to have to change things from the inside, not from the outside—and how that means engaging with many different realities, while still needing to achieve concrete results.
There are still very few women designing for women at the head of fashion brands—that’s a fact.
RR: The patriarchal gaze is a system, and it cuts across every industry and creative field. This patriarchal perspective has also been internalized by women themselves, often unconsciously absorbed.
MGC: So you have to question yourself—who you are, what you do, and what you’ve always taken for granted. Having to engage so deeply with my daughter and with the thinking of her generation led me to reconsider many things. This happened at a time when the industry was changing—or at least, it seemed like it was changing—maybe? And also, the fact that we now have access to so much information and to a certain kind of communication… We take for granted the information we can access today, the books we can find… we’ve made huge strides. New technologies, social media—they’ve connected all these processes, sometimes excessively, in my opinion. Still, they’ve allowed everyone to have a voice and a critical approach—even if sometimes without a sufficiently nuanced analysis, and with an excess of simplification. But it’s all part of an ongoing journey.
Fashion shows have a global audience, yet now you find yourself managing an intimate theater—a small space, like a jewel, which is the opposite of the scale you experienced at Dior. What is your perspective on fashion today?
MGC: What’s interesting isn’t how big something is, but rather the opportunity to collaborate on projects of a certain quality. The brand can be small, large, or mega-galactic—obviously the opportunities and budgets differ—but the pleasure remains the same. I don’t think I had any less pleasure early in my career working for very small brands than I’ve had working for a huge one.
The theater obviously allows for a much smaller approach, but in some ways, it’s even more stimulating because you have fewer resources. It’s also much more artisanal—you really have to solve problems and do things by hand. To give you an example: deciding who’s going to do the set design with artist Pietro Ruffo, and then figuring out how to make a little catalog, finding a small printing workshop, calling the typography… This artisanal spirit, I find it very beautiful, and I think young people really love it and get excited by it. I’ve taken Rachele to meet all the artisans I’ve worked with. It’s very fascinating to connect with all the people who make the projects possible.
Maybe because I come from Rome, where there’s a strong culture of ‘doing things together,’ giant platform approaches have never really attracted me. I know every single person I’ve worked with, and I have all their phone numbers. Last night at the cruise show, many of the people I’ve worked with were there. I wanted them with me because it’s a moment of shared work, of satisfaction—because we made it happen.
How has fashion changed since you began your career?
Well, of course, I’ve seen the whole generational evolution of fashion, also through Rachele, because she really was born into fashion—she used to come with me to the Fendi office when she was very little, so she grew up in showrooms along with her brother. I had them helping organize the bags, put them on shelves to keep them busy. My husband Paolo used to take the kids to the showroom because he worked outside Rome, and I even breastfed them there while working—a very Italian thing, this sense of family extending into the workplace.
I was lucky enough to work with the founders of Valentino and the Fendi sisters, who were great mentors. I learned so much from them—so much, it was such a privilege. Then fashion transformed into a system of large groups, so I also experienced that entire period. The evolution has been huge, but in my opinion, the real change came with communication, with the arrival of new media, which brought fashion to a whole new scale where it also became super-pop.
Before, the conversation was more elitist as it happened within a circle of people who knew each other and knew everything about fashion. Now, your audience, you don’t know who they are or where they are, maybe someone who has never seen a runway show and doesn’t even know the work behind it, the enormous effort required to create a collection. With these new media in recent years, it’s difficult to explain what’s behind it all, and the risk is of a very superficial view.
It’s hard to say where the whole system will go. Honestly, I don’t know. But I believe, like with all things, there are cycles—a bit like what the Gattopardo (The Leopard) says: everything changes and nothing changes. Probably we need to look at this system with a different approach. I also think about theater—for Teatro Cometa, we’re not thinking about a classic program schedule because it wouldn’t be sustainable. People’s attention span has changed; it’s much shorter. With all these images, everything has become frantic, everything is consumed instantly.
Rachele, tell me what kind of programming can we expect from Teatro della Cometa?
RR: The programming will give attention to music, because the very first show when Teatro Cometa opened in 1958 was “I Capricci di Marianna” by Alfred de Musset, with a very young Monica Vitti in the lead role, and there were also many chamber music concerts. So, a musical program is planned. We wanted to bring back a more varied program—not just theater, but also music, performance, dance—precisely because our approach remains the same as what we did at Dior: trying to create dialogue and offer a platform to creatives from different disciplines.
So the idea is to have multiple curators for each discipline—each one will have its own curator—and there will be a scientific/artistic committee overseeing the program, which will include various disciplines. That means you won’t see the same performance for six months straight, but instead maybe a month of dance, then a month of music, alternating disciplines like a festival.
MGC: It’s definitely a long-term project that allows us to do something we really enjoy—research. And yes, it’s very timeless—really timeless, that word fashion loves so much. Compared to fashion, this project is definitely more timeless!
So you’ll be very involved in the project too?
RR: She’s a cultural entrepreneur now!
MGC: In reality, I’m just trying to cover the costs! Thankfully, my husband and my son are trying to help me understand the business plan, because I’m terrible at it—I really should learn something about finances to manage the expenses better.
Maybe designing costumes for the theater?
MGC: No, no, costumes for now are not what interest me. I’m more interested in doing research, and working on a team to develop an idea. And I’d really love to do a book on Mimì Pecci Blunt—that’s something I really, really would like to do. It will take time, but we have the whole archive. And I’d like for Teatro della Cometa to have a life of its own—we don’t want to tie it exclusively to us, even though I’ve obviously been quite exposed over the years.
With all the people you’ve worked with over the years at Dior, involving them in your performances, were there any moments that were especially inspiring for you—moments that taught you something or surprised you? Is there an artist you especially enjoyed working with?
MGC: The truth is, these kinds of projects aren’t things I do alone—it’s always a big team effort. What gives me the most satisfaction is seeing the team excited to be part of these experiences, because we all learn.
Working with choreographer Sharon Eyal (for the Dior spring 2019 collection) was incredible. When you’re designing for ballet, you’re really working with the body—finding solutions to create suitable costumes with the entire knitwear team was both a technical and emotional experience, as well as a visual one. It was very, very powerful and fascinated all of us. It was the first time we worked with a choreographer, and everyone was terrified at the idea of coordinating a show with choreography and music. We learned so much—and we kept working with her afterward, also for her own ballets—because a kind of community forms, where you’re in constant relationship with these people.
And then Chanakya—the school, the artists, the exhibition we did at the Vatican—and we even went with them to the Venice Biennale in 2024 for a collateral exhibition called Cosmic Garden. It was crazy! Crazy women at the Biennale! We didn’t even know how to participate, how to apply for the call for proposals. That’s the spirit of adventure—when you don’t know if you’ll make it, but you try anyway and move forward, bringing people along the way. I definitely have an adventurous spirit.
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