Holy Peony Dior Novels & Stories

"Isn't that the newest Hermes bag that they just launched, which there are only ten in the world?" "Very beautiful!" "Where is this woman come from? I never saw it." "Doesn't that woman look familiar?" Many whispers went to Yuriel. Yuriel took off Dior's latest sunglasses. Her lips were lined with ruby red lipstick, forming an evil smile. She walked confidently into the building. The bright red dress fluttered with every step. "Excuse me, where is the office of the President of this company?" Yuriel asked a receptionist. The receptionist looked at Yuriel's appearance with a questioning look before answering politely. "Have you made an appointment?"

I was grateful that she was here and Marco asked the designers to come to his home instead to pick the perfect outfit for me I thought that after measuring me and getting a hint about my sizes then I'm free to go not knowing that they would come here with a gazillion outfits for me to try out— that might have been an exaggeration though. It wasn't even up to a hundred — I think. " What do you say about this?," Nelly asked, handing me a lovely white gown. It was beautiful and ofcourse it was from some popular brand which was called Dior. I'm not surprised because apparently Marco is an ambassador for Dior.

Addie’'s already at Bergdorf's when I arrive, perched on one of those ridiculously expensive chairs they put in the designer section, looking like she owns the place in head-to-toe Chanel that she probably doesn't own but wears like she does, and when she sees me her face lights up with that particular brand of mischief that means she's been dying to interrogate me about my life and is about to do so with extreme prejudice. "Pookie!" She's on her feet, pulling me into a hug that smells like her signature Dior and expensive coffee and safety. "You look like shit."

Right at that exact moment, Pelin stepped out from the other changing room. I turned around and my jaw practically dropped. She was wearing a stunning yellow chiffon creation adorned with layered flower embroidery, dramatic cloak sleeves, and fine gemstones that brilliantly covered the chest area. The entire look was paired with a heavily studded gemstone belt that perfectly cinched her slender waist. “You look absolutely stunning, Manolya!” Pelin exclaimed, her eyes widening as she saw me spin a few rounds on the viewing podium. “Wow, that color suits you so incredibly well!”

It smelled like her shop but a hundred times bigger. Elise stood in the bridal suite upstairs, looking in the mirror, crying. She was wearing a Dior wedding dress - not bought, but designed for her by Dior's creative director himself after Ethan bought the boutique. It was simple, elegant, with long sleeves, a sweetheart neckline, covered in tiny embroidered roses that looked like her shop's roses. Her hair was done simply, with fresh white roses from her shop. No diamonds, just her mother's pearl necklace. And on her feet, white sneakers, because her feet hurt.

CHAPTER 11 ISABELLE’S POV The house felt lonely and quiet since Rob left for work, so I decided to do some shopping at the mall. Not like I needed anything in particular, just it made me feel happy. It was therapy. I stopped by a Dior store and decided to get my all time favorite. J’adore Eau de parfum. That had been my go to since my stay in Paris. And sadly it was out of stock here. Somehow after that disappointment, I found myself in the lingerie section holding up a black silk slip that looked bonkers on me.

My breath caught in my throat. Nestled in layers of tissue paper was the most beautiful dress I'd ever seen—a Dior gown in deep emerald green silk that seemed to shimmer in the afternoon light streaming through the windows. The fabric was exquisite, the cut sophisticated yet feminine, with delicate beading along the neckline that caught the light like tiny stars. A small card lay on top of the dress. In Theo's bold handwriting: "For tonight. - T" I lifted the gown carefully, marveling at its weight and the way the silk moved like liquid in my hands. This wasn't just expensive—it was museum-quality, the kind of dress that belonged on red carpets and in fashion magazines.

MIA “Oh my God, pretty girl. You got vintage Dior too? Vintage Dior?!” Peach almost screamed my ears off, as we went through the things I shopped for in Paris. “I guess,” I replied modestly, because I didn't know how else to respond without sounding like I was bragging. Bragging wasn't my thing. Not until there was a real need for it. “He bought you a Birkin. Hold me, I'm going to faint!” She freed up her body, and it swayed behind, landing on my bed.