Paparazzi, Paris, and the Beating Heart of a Father
When your son takes over the fashion world, you watch—with pride, a little distance, and your feet planted just offstage.
It’s not every day your son lands in The Wall Street Journal.
Unless your son is Daniel Roseberry, then it’s becoming something of a pattern.
He didn’t mention it. But we knew. The writer and photographer were staying in our hotel. Sure enough, the profile ran—a sharp portrait of Daniel’s world at Schiaparelli: high fashion, cultural heat, and a dress with a heart that literally beats.
Schiaparelli was in the news again. This time with “Glamazon Billionaire” Lauren Sánchez Bezos wore one of his creations.
“I really wasn’t prepared for how much coverage that got,” he said, referring to Lauren Sánchez Bezos’s pre-wedding gown. “She bought that gown. And that speaks to Schiap’s quiet power—we’ve never paid anyone to wear the clothes. They wear them because they want to.”
Catch that last line—she had to pay for the dress.
That’s not how it usually works. Normally, a house pays a model, star, or, these days, a world-renowned client to wear their gowns and outfits. They sign contracts to be brand ambassadors, not with Schiap. They are among the most exclusive houses, and people pay to wear their creations. They might have free arrangements because if someone under contract with Chanel wears a Schiaparelli, it means she is not being paid to wear her brand.
The Invitation Alone Was Art


The show was flawless. The invitation this season came in a hand-calligraphed box that opened to reveal a brass nautilus. We’ve kept every one of our invitations. They are displayed in a little gallery near the wet bar.
At the appointed hour, we arrived. Paparazzi swarmed the entrance, gaining boldness and numbers with each season. Rain held them back only slightly. Fran drew their attention. She’s remembered from a past shoot as “Muse Mom,” and her smile still stops traffic.


Inside, we were seated close to the runway, just behind the cameras. Dua Lipa sat nearby. Stunning, as expected. Cardi B posed outside with a live crow. A gimmick, but effective. Each celebrity brought along a bodyguard who looked like he could stop traffic, too.
Fran brought me.
The Soundtrack of Style
The music started—Daniel always chooses it himself. He’s done that since middle school, burning daily mix CDs to suit the mood of his morning drives. Even then, he curated atmosphere.
And then came the clothes. Elegant, sculptural, surprising. Hats, fabrics, and silhouettes—each piece felt considered. The models walked in silence, eyes blank by design. The clothes were the story. Daniel doesn’t need hype men. His work speaks.
The most talked-about look? A red dress (above) with sculpted breasts on the back, cradling a Dalí-like necklace that pulsed 60 beats a minute. It was strange and stirring. People won’t forget it.
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