Mrs Harris Goes to Paris (2022)

With the world going to hell in a handbasket, keeping one's spirits up feels more imperative than ever — and more difficult. Each new day brings headlines that read like a farcical list of "Ten Things You Could Never Have Imagined Would Be True." So I spend my time playing silly games on my phone (dragons, anyone?), trying to summon the energy to plant the flowers that have been sitting accusingly on my deck for a month, and watching endless clips from old Hindi films on YouTube — all while endeavouring to do the job I'm actually paid to do. Suffice it to say, I have to push myself to do anything these days.

So there I was one Sunday afternoon, curled up on the sofa, when my husband put on Mrs Harris Goes to Paris. I forced myself to pay attention. A few scenes in, I had a vision: an embroidered Christian Dior gown (a faithful recreation, but more on that later) in shades of lilac and lavender, with touches of pink and white. It was ethereal. And I felt a little like Mrs Harris herself — unable to look away. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me start at the beginning.

The year is 1957. The war is long over, but Mrs Ada Harris (Lesley Manville) is still waiting for her Eddie to come home. In the meantime, she keeps body and soul together by cleaning houses — a godsend to clients who are far too busy or too important to tidy up after themselves. 

They all admire her diligence, yet some can't quite manage to pay her. Lady Dant (Anna Chancellor), for instance, always seems to have money for everything except her cleaning lady's wages, offering excuses that range from the silly to the absurd. Mrs Harris bears it all with quiet stoicism, muttering under her breath occasionally, but carrying on. Until the day she opens a wardrobe to put away a mended bedsheet and finds herself face to face with the most beautiful dress she has ever seen — a haute couture creation of silk and lace that simply takes her breath away.

'Ravissante' by Jenny Beavan
Courtesy: Hollywood Reporter

"It cost 500 pounds," says Lady Dant, without a trace of irony. Ada reluctantly closes the wardrobe. But try as she might — and she isn't trying very hard — she cannot forget the dress. Her best friend Violet 'Vi' Butterfield (Ellen Thomas) thinks she's lost her marbles: 500 pounds for a dress? Madness. Ada agrees it is. 

But for a woman who has lived frugally all her life, cleaning up after others, waiting for a husband she suspects deep down will never return — though hope, after all, is what keeps us going — that dress becomes the stuff of dreams. Something to aspire to. And Ada decides that, come what may, she will buy a Dior.

It's worth remembering that this is the 1950s. Haute couture is emphatically not for the hoi polloi. Fashion houses like Dior were famed for their exclusivity — one didn't simply waltz in and buy a gown. One waited for an invitation to a showing, made careful notes, and was then discreetly ushered into the inner sanctum, where the master tailor addressed you in hushed tones while little elves (read: employees) slaved over your dress for weeks.

Several fittings later, you emerged the proud owner of a gown no other woman in the world possessed.

And this is precisely what a simple charwoman from Battersea has set her heart on. Her journey will take her from London to Paris, from gossiping with Vi and being cheerfully flirted with by local bookmaker Archie (Jason Isaacs), to hobnobbing with Marquises and rubbing shoulders with the snobbish Parisian elite. There will be setbacks, some tears, some disappointments... but also kindness, warmth, generosity of spirit. 

Mrs Harris Goes to Paris is, at its heart, a fairy tale — but one anchored in the real world. The celebration of the House of Dior's tenth anniversary is set against the mounds of rubbish lining Parisian streets (Paris had a long history of workers' strikes), a reminder that dreams and reality rarely keep the same address. 

Based on Paul Gallico's 1958 novel Flowers for Mrs Harris (US title Mrs 'Arris Goes to Paris), the film insists that there is still room in the world for hope, kindness, and the occasional extravagant dream. Yes, it's spun sugar and fairy dust — but there's a genuine, beating heart at its core. Lesley Manville is luminous as Ada, and Alba Baptista brings warmth and spark to Natasha. 

Isabelle Huppert is perfectly in her element as the imperious Claudine Colbert, while Lambert Wilson is effortlessly gallant as the Marquis de Chassagne. Is there a romance in store for Ada? Not exactly — but that small concession to reality only makes the film's larger romanticism feel more earned.

And of course, we cannot talk about Mrs Harris without talking about the clothes. Costume designer Jenny Beavan worked from Christian Dior's archival photographs, original drawings, fabric swatches and design notes to lovingly recreate his gowns for the film. The dress that sets Ada's whole journey in motion is based on a design from Dior's Spring/Summer 1949 collection while 'Temptation', the dress that Ada falls in love with was Ms Bevan's take on Dior's Diablotine, a ravishing sequinned and embroidered red velvet design from the designer's Fall/Winter 1957 Haute Couture collection. 

In interviews, Beavan has spoken about creating looks that serve the story each character is telling — and her close collaboration with the House of Dior ensures these dresses feel alive, not merely decorative. In Ada Harris's world, a beautiful gown isn't just a beautiful gown. It's proof that beauty is possible. And sometimes, that's enough.