Tank dresses extended from mid-thigh to mid-calf, traced by curving seams of studs; leather skirts were cut on the diagonal and paired with camisole tops; and belts were fringed to flutter, just a bit, with the stride. There were zip-up palazzo pant jumpsuits and zip-up bomber jacket tennis-skirt suits, both in patterns of pixelated polka dots; easy drop-waisted dresses and glimmering trapeze shifts. And though there was some black (most notably in a tailored jacket over flowing trousers with a tuxedo swish), the palette was equal parts red, white and navy with some celadon on top, as well as a sprinkling of stripes and a scattering of pansies.
It culminated in multidimensional dresses that shrouded an inner layer of Op Art dots or stripes beneath a more opaque peekaboo outer layer of knits, like a secret that could be glimpsed but not accessed. Just in case anyone had missed the point that fashion is, most of all, for the woman who wears it, and that transformation happens on the body, not in the atelier or through a Snapchat filter. It may be a complicated — and time-consuming — idea to design, but not to grasp.