Céline Dion’s Paris Comeback Finds Fabulousness in the Fragile

“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 WeekFashion WeekA series of seasonal events where designers debut their latest collections, setting the tone for upcoming fashion trends and showcasing creativity, craftsmanship, and innovation across the global fashion industry.Go to Fashion Week Glossary (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.

Dion’s return was never going to be a modest affair. Across four acts, creative director Willo Perron built a world around the singer’s instinct for high drama: monolithic structures shifted and opened around her, enormous screens projected visuals by Thibaut Grevet that captured Dion in Dune-like vignettes. The first act, though, opened on the most vulnerable note. Dion emerged for “On ne change pas” in a pleated, peplumed black Dior gown—custom-made after Christian Dior’s Francis Poulenc silhouette from the spring 1950 couture collection—with an enormous Boucheron necklace known as “The Address” blazing at her throat.

She was in tears almost immediately, her voice cracking as she attempted the second verse. Six years away from a full-length concert collapsed into those first few minutes. “Finally, it’s amazing we are all together,” Dion finally managed. “I made a promise to come back and to be back onstage. So here I am, singing for you, singing for me, singing life.”

Once the tears had been dispatched and energy redirected, Dion was performing her vocal gymnastics and shadow-boxing with a backing singer during a punchy run through “J’irai où tu iras,” “Ne bouge pas,” and “Dans un autre monde.” For the disco portion of the evening, she changed into an opulent Schiaparelli jacket—a suitably grand uniform for a medley that bounced through Donna Summer’s “I Feel Love,” “I’m Alive,” “That’s the Way It Is,” and Eurythmics’ “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This).” As a glitter ball descended overhead, the arena briefly became the world’s largest nightclub. “Beauty and the Beast” into club bangers? She understands the camp of being Céline Dion even better today.

There were moments when Dion’s condition necessitated some concessions. Certain registers on songs including “The Power of Love” and “My Heart Will Go On” were delicately lowered, but they were adaptations that never felt disguised. In another tender exchange with the audience, Dion spoke about taking her fragility and making it a source of strength and empathy. Musically, that seemed to manifest in a defter use of her lower range, and in the vulnerable breaks in her vibrato on songs like “Dansons”—her first original song in several years—and “Courage,” the title track from her first album following the 2016 death of her husband and longtime manager, René Angélil. Her backing choir made it all feel like an almost spiritual experience. The point was never to obscure her struggles, but to hear what Dion could make from what she had.

For “All By Myself,” Dion appeared in Alaïa’s body-contouring corseted gown, ready to face her own personal summit. The song’s notorious belt has always been one of her great feats of vocal athleticism, and she took it a cappella, just as she always has. She looked skyward, hit the note, and grinned in pure relief. Art goes on. (And on.)

A sequined Tom Ford by Haider Ackermann gown with a thigh-high slit followed, before Dion went full diva for the final act. Dry ice swirled, a podium like a mountain edge emerged. For “La Wally,” she returned to the stage in Sarah Burton’s Givenchy—a rose-pink shredded organza cape over a glittering asymmetric-hemmed dress—as snow fell from above like an apparition. “Pour que tu m’aimes encore” became a 35,000-person singalong.

At 11:14 p.m., Dion took her final flamboyant bows. “Merci d’avoir répondu à mon invitation,” she cooed. “Je vous aime.” In other words: Thank you for accepting my invitation. I love you.

This article was originally published on Vogue.com.