“L’histoire! L’histoire!” a family of at least three generations of Céline Dion fans shout as they pose for a camera, sporting at least double the number of merch styles. It’s the first night of the Canadian star’s 26-night residency in Paris after six years away from the stage, and the sense of occasion is significant, to put it mildly.
In 2022, Dion was diagnosed with stiff-person syndrome, a rare, debilitating progressive neurological disorder that causes muscle rigidity and spasms so violent Dion broke ribs. Her pain—and the possibility that she would never perform again—was captured in the vulnerable 2024 documentary I Am Céline Dion. Her electrifying performances, that legendarily belted F5 on “All By Myself,” her powerful yet playful command of the stage, an archive of stage-sweeping gowns… all of that might have been banished to memory. So when, in late March, Dion announced her Paris dates, her legions of fans were prepared to meet the moment.
In the buzzing Eurostar lounge the evening before the show, I met a retired Australian couple who reconfigured their Euro summer to see Dion. (They would be back on the train to Lille shortly thereafter.) Opposite me in Premier, a stylist from Los Angeles shared that he would fit a VIP client for Paris Fashion Week (still a few weeks away) early so that he could see Dion. An older gentleman didn’t realize his headphones weren’t connected and played Dion’s “Power of Love,” then some Olivia Dean, then Dion again at full blast before a seatmate gently let him know he was soundtracking our carriage.
In Paris, Dion’s presence is palpable. I’m staying for two nights at Château Voltaire—the artful hotel owned by Zadig & Voltaire founder Thierry Guiller on Rue St. Roch, close to Cedric Grolet’s gargantuan croissant store and the Opera Garnier. But instead of arias, it’s selections from Dion’s discography that keep coming up. Over the house tartare and Chablis in the hotel’s lively Brasserie L’Emil, I compare favorite Céline songs with a young French couple beside me (mine “Think Twice,” theirs “On ne change pas”) as they finish a cavernous bowl of chocolate mousse. When I return to my suite, beautifully still with its Rococo shell carvings and low lighting, I google the star’s own hotel, where she has been greeting fans excitedly all week (in a succession of fabulous outfits) after rehearsals. It’s a 42-minute walk away.
I begin my pilgrimage to the Plenitude Arena at 5 p.m., expecting the scrums I endured for Taylor Swift’s Eras tour in 2024. In time, I spot a teenager pairing her hot pink bootleg shirt with a fuzzy Von Dutch bag. Two tuxedo-wearing gentlemen sport Céline-branded light-up bangles that are surely at least a decade old. There are ladies in opera coats and tiaras, as well as the likes of Michelle Obama—in a sculptural Diotima gown—and Tom Ford designer Haider Ackermann, wearing a tee from the merch stand.
Inside the arena, roars undulate across the stands any time the background music dips or transitions. Cheers when the bar pops another bottle of Champagne become a regular occurrence. The 35,000-strong crowd is happy to forgive Céline Dion for what becomes a 47-minute delay.
Wearing Alaïa.
Photo: Nicolas Gerardin
Wearing Schiaparelli.
Photo: Nicolas Gerardin