Was it ever going to be possible for the house of Christian Dior to stage a catwalk spectacle that could rival or even surpass anything else it has pulled off this year? Celebrating the label’s 60th birthday as well as a decade of John Galliano at the creative helm was never going to be a quiet affair.

Six months ago we were privy to a triumphant ready-to-wear collection in which Galliano referenced Forties and Fifties silhouettes in a colourful display of tailored ingenuity. Come July at the Orangerie in the Palace of Versailles , Galliano paid dazzling tribute once again to the influences that inspired Dior and himself over the years.

So what could he come up with yesterday that hadn’t already been done? In the event, he didn’t bother to compete and his show, which kicked off Paris Fashion Week, was business as usual back at the Jardin des Tuilleries.

Could anyone guess what the two, phallic totem poles (seemingly made from giant religieuse pastries) symbolised? And what a pity that lack of ventilation turned the marquee into a giant sauna, because the ensuing apathy was unjustified.

Yesterday’s collection proved to be another mini-history lesson in Dior style – and a beautifully produced one at that. An initial foray into monochrome suiting reminiscent of the early Nineties was a fitting illustration for the Englishman in New York soundtrack – and yes, Sting, who wrote the lyrics, was sitting in the front row with his wife, Trudie Styler.

Tailoring was clean and minimal and devoid of fussy appendages, jewelled eyebrows and thick, heavy eye-shadows notwithstanding.

Then we travelled back 50 years or so to an era that Galliano is obviously very comfortable reinterpreting. There was more of this clean-cut approach to tailored Forties pieces in the narrow, capped sleeves on blouses or slim-fit pencil skirts which, apart from the odd decorative touch such as giant orchid brooches with diamante-encrusted stamens, were striking in their simplicity.

Particular favourites were the slinky, Forties-style wrap dresses in dramatic shades of eau-de-nil or pistachio with beaded sashes that harked to an age of the silver screen or the delicacy of a lace tea-dress.

Galliano is clearly a designer who knows how to flatter the female form and his pieces were intended to shape and lift, evident from the corseted, single-breast jackets to the gentle skimming of a silk jersey evening gown. The exceptions were a couple of cut-on-the-bias dresses that didn’t appear to hang properly – perhaps because the lovely but very boyish model Agyness Deyn doesn’t have the required curves.

Even more impressive was his reworking of the Twenties, highlights of which included a tomato-red, velvet brocade, drop-waist dress with silver fringing as well as some elegant opera coats, chic in a platinum silk and even more dramatic in a leopard-and-fur trim.

The richness of detail on his very simple finale gowns was breathtaking, as were the elaborate headpieces of intricately beaded flowers tied into mussed-up chignons.

Sparkle, while evident, was used sparingly – just a scattering of tiny rhinestones and diamante on gentle ruching and pin-tucking at the stomach of a full-sleeve gown and small, snail-like circles woven into the hems of a pistachio silk strapless dress. All are undoubtedley headed for the red carpet.

What a year it’s been for Galliano. He dressed up as the archetypal Englishman in New York (top hat and braces) for his always eagerly awaited curtain bow, but really, why bother with New York when you’ve already conquered Paris?

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