I would have loved to see a fun, soapy, behind-the-scenes tale of what 'really' goes on in a French couture house, but this is not it. Every character is ripped from the cliché attic: the house's art director is foppish and authoritarian, oblivious to what's happening in the world of style outside his microcosm. His sister, a former model, obsessively records her weight daily in a series of hundreds of notebooks dating back to her glory days. The head of La Maison's rival fashion house is comically villainous. Then there is the 'new girl', who designs raggedy clothes that literally look like rubbish - but is suddenly appointed the fashion house's new art director because of her amazing talent. Awful. An absolute slog to watch.

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