PARIS — There was a moment when men’s ready-to-wear was a kind of laboratory for everything exciting happening in fashion. This was particularly true in Paris. But the men’s fashion week that ended here on Sunday night was not that. Instead we got auteurs on autopilot. But what did leave an impression was the sheer scale of it all.

Huge shows have long been the norm at Louis Vuitton, the world’s largest luxury brand, but Pharrell Williams has taken things to another level. This time around his super-sized outing — set in the giant courtyard of the UNESCO headquarters — had a “We Are the World” theme, complete with outfits whose colours matched the skin tones of the models. But in fashion terms, there was nothing groundbreaking going on. The black section that opened the show featured flared tailoring that was sharp, but Pharrell soon reverted to the bling-bling this is his idea of luxury. No matter how flashy the clothes were, the show’s real stars were the bags — Vuitton’s core business, after all — with the rainbow damier the season’s forte.

Over at Dior Homme, the gigantic cats on the runway, inspired by South African ceramicist Hylton Nel, were certainly fun to look at, but they also somehow overshadowed one of Kim Jones’ most convincing outings, marked by a sense of sartorial slouchiness and an idea of uniform dressing twisted with deliberate childishness (Hylton Nel animal motifs appeared on jumpers, jackets and accessories) that although Prada-esque in feel (sailor collars and straw bucket hats lined with charms, anyone?), still came across as personal and uncontrived.

The sense of scale was also huge at Amiri, which took over a large chunk of the Jardin des Plantes. But the live jazz band gave the proceedings a more intimate feeling that perfectly matched the charmingly camp and easy formality of the clothes. In the short span of a few years, designer Mike Amiri has turned his namesake brand into a fashion force, keeping its Los Angeles spirit but ditching the city’s laissez-faire mannerism to captivating results.

In a season of hugeness, it was Rick Owens who delivered the ultimate commentary on scale. Is a sense of tribe-building what really makes fashion tick at the moment? Here you had it, grown to grotesque proportions. Owens took over the Palais de Tokyo with a lavish production worthy of a Cecil B. DeMille movie, showing 10 looks, each on a phalanx of 20 beautiful freaks of all sizes and ages who, together, formed a white-uniformed army of love. It was a visual blast that left one ruminating. Owens’ uniforms, like all uniforms, both erased and highlighted the individual identity of the wearer. There was also a sense of massification, driven by faith in an aesthetic credo. The spectacle probably distracted from the beauty of the clothes, but it was timely and joyous.

Scale has been on the mind of Loewe designer Jonathan Anderson for a few years now. This season, however, the goings got such a blast of restraint, stripped-down-to-the-essence, that one could feel erotic tension all around, and all the better for that. For a start there was the set: vast in size, intimate and sparsely-laid in furnishing, it contained notable specimens from Anderson’s own art collection, including works by Carlo Scarpa, Peter Hujar, Charles Rennie Mackintosh. A chair and a coat stand, from a distance, might look like a building, and that was the effect Anderson was after. As for the fashion, Anderson took all the theatrics away to focus on something at once old-fashioned and progressive as silhouette, delivering an unremittingly vertical, graphic statement, complete with lanky physicality, that was a punch. The feathered masks were probably a little distracting and too conceptual, but the focus on outline and surface treatment was magnetic: more proof that Anderson is the big designer with the fiercest experimental spirit of his generation. Now that it’s head-hunting season, he deserves to be considered for an even bigger house where his ideas could flourish further.

Of course, there are auteurs whose work remains under the radar. Hed Mayner is one. The designer was an early champion of gigantic tailoring, and a master of colour and texture. His approach is almost abstract in intention, but his deep understanding of the human body makes for items that are rough and real as well as enveloping and poetic. Best, this season, was the gardening-themed outerwear, the backswept collarless jackets, and most of all the crinkled yet firm tailoring hinting at new ways of dealing with volume. Louis Gabriel Nouchi keeps fine-tuning his literature-drenched, intensely sensual vision, focusing on cut and construction with seductive results. Walter Van Beirendonck is a mainstay in his own garish and playful niche, but his ever-evolving take on cartoonish shape deserves wider recognition.

Junichi Abe of Kolor is another name worthy of bigger exposure. A constructivist with a painterly sense of colour and a wonderful way with slouchiness, Abe has been a fixture of the Paris calendar for a long while. But over the past few seasons his work has reached a striking level of lightness. This season everything was extra light and poetic. Chitose Abe, who is Junichi’s wife and the mastermind of Sacai, has a similar vision, but her work has a taut, sculptural and urban toughness all her own. There was something slightly 1950s to the endeavour this time — think James Dean in “Rebel Without a Cause” — but her ever-abstract approach kept things fresh. Things were not particularly fresh at Kenzo, where Nigo continues to search for the keys to unlock the house’s code and make it modern.

With grandness ruling the fashion scene, designers going for something smaller, closer to real life, made an impact this season. Lemaire shows are always tranches de vie filled with desirable clothes, but since designers Christophe Lemaire and Sarah-Linh Tran moved their showspace to the label’s headquarters in the Marais they have found a groove that, this season, resulted in a collection that was one of their best in recent times.

Auralee, the brainchild of Ryota Iwa, is all about an eerie, poetic brand of twisted classicism. Through timeless, almost undesigned pieces that seem to have sat in the closet forever, Iwa is capable of evoking real feeling, which is a real accomplishment. The hours between work and leisure were on his mind this season, making for a classy collection that had a Saturday morning feeling to it, evoking strollers in the park dressed for both otium and negotium.

Grace Wales Bonner has grown past the preciousness of her beginnings and, again this season, she translated her tailoring finesse and love for beautiful fabrications into pieces that have life beyond the catwalk but retain a sense of painterly uniqueness. Thoughtful yet sensual classicism has always been key at Hermès, where in recent seasons Véronique Nichanian has become more edgy — well, as edgy as Hermès can be. This time around, the goings had a seductive, effortless, ‘80s Armani feel to them. Meanwhile, over at Junya Watanabe, the exploration of twisted formality in a crash of tailoring, patchwork and denim proved particularly engaging, conceived for a badass wearing black lipstick and an inventive wardrobe.

If the discourse on fluid masculinity that was once so central to the ruminations of many men’s designers seems to have been sidelined, it’s probably because a certain delicacy, once perceived as effeminate, has been finally accepted into the rules of men’s dressing. At Taak, Takuya Morikawa, a relative newcomer on the Paris calendar, mixed an almost rococo flair for fabrication and decoration with lines that were light and pure to brilliant results. Jun Takahashi, back on the catwalk with Undercover menswear, delivered an uplifting foray into soft tribalism that felt as energising as spiritual enlightenment and as beautiful as rocaille decorative frenzy.

After the enraged burst she delivered in March, Rei Kawakubo was feeling slightly more hopeful at Comme des Garçons, sending out a posse of kawaii punks in deliciously twisted frock coats and hair clip mohawks. The pieces were gorgeous, if repetitive, with the sidenote of infantilized masculinity that never goes away. At Yohji Yamamoto, by comparison, the men are always grown up and badass, even though this season they looked younger. Working with calligraphic prints, painterly flowers, pervasive lightness and playful asymmetry, Yohji was classic Yohji, and yet the poetry felt particularly intense and touching this time around.

The windswept, billowind shapes at Homme Plissé Issey Miyake were a joy to behold: completely weightless and simply complex, they felt like another affirmation of how good the Miyake output currently is under designer Satoshi Kondo. Two years after the passing away of Issey-san, the label’s unforgettable founder, Kondo keeps honouring his legacy while resolutely moving forward, which is the best embodiment of the Miyake way of thinking.

In a season of grandness and delicacy, Dries Van Noten had the definitive word on both topics with a farewell show after 38 years of tireless dedication to the cause of romantic realism. The collection shone not only for the metallics, the acidic pastels and the silky fabrics; it was Van Noten’s remarkably matter of fact attitude: no retrospective, no après moi, le déluge, no cheesy sentimentalism. On the contrary, what we got was a painterly mix of precise silhouettes and beautiful surfaces pointing resolutely forward, and expressing Van Noten’s unwavering quest for beauty at its best. In an era of extreme self-exposure, Van Noten’s decision to step back felt heroic, poetic and infinitely inspiring — just as the designer has always been.

PARIS — Vogue — and French fashion — sought to position themselves at the heart of pop culture and sport, kicking off Paris haute couture week with a star-studded celebration Sunday linking fashion history, music and athletic excellence.

A month out from Paris’ first Olympic games since 1924, the magazine shut down the iconic Place Vendôme — home to Schiaparelli, Boucheron, and Van Cleef & Arpels as well as the Ritz Hotel where Coco Chanel lived for three decades — for the show, which was the third edition of its “Vogue World” event following editions in New York and London.

Looks by French fashion houses including Chanel, Dior, Balenciaga, Courrèges, Paco Rabanne and more were curated by fashion historian Alexandre Samson and styled by Carine Roitfeld and Ib Kamara.

Aya Nakamura and Bad Bunny performed, while a mix of sports stars and models circled the square’s central column wearing looks designed to evoke Paris’ fashion’s long love affair with athletics. A horde of young aspiring Olympians opened the show wearing all-white ensembles by Lacoste; models Gigi Hadid and Kendall Jenner rode the runway on horseback in the ever equestrian-inspired Hermès. Venus and Serena Williams wore ensembles by Marine Serre and Off-White, and “Espresso” singer Sabrina Carpenter strutted in a custom Jacquemus look inspired by glamorous mid-century swimwear. A breakdance team closed the show in Louis Vuitton jumpsuits by Pharrell Williams, who sat beside editor-in-chief Anna Wintour (John Galliano sat to her other side). Swimmers, footballers and champion fencers were also present.

“It’s about going further than just fashion, and rather creating culture and events,” Eugénie Trochu, Vogue France’s head of editorial said. “It also helps us to create a lot of content, not just for Vogue but for other titles in Condé Nast,” she added.

Within an hour of the event, video snippets appeared on the Instagrams of various Vogue editions featuring a sportscaster like voice annotating the performance. Articles, too, proliferated on Vogue’s website: ”Olivia Munn and John Mulaney Enjoyed a Romantic Night Out at Vogue World: Paris;” “This tricolor dress by Alaïa at Vogue World: Paris paid tribute to a celebrated moment in fashion history.”

Vogue’s focus on sport comes amid the ramp-up to the 2024 Summer Olympics in Paris, as well as a broader explosion in sponsorship activity. Brands are increasingly drawn to famous athletes’ mix of high visibility and an aspirational image: the sports sponsorship market is set to grow from $63.1 billion in 2021 to $109.1 billion by 2030, a report by consultancy PwC found.

Shutting down the Place Vendôme required support from as high up as the Elysée, although President Emmanuel Macron and First Lady Brigitte ultimately did not attend: Macron’s Renaissance party was trounced by the far-right National Rally in recent European elections. Macron has since called snap elections in which far right parties continue to lead the polls, making for an uncomfortable background for Paris Couture week.

“In the past weeks we’ve worked to further reinforce diversity and make sure we are paying tribute to the open-minded spirit that makes Paris fashion run,” Samson said. That’s meant adding more non-white and Muslim models and performers, he said, as well as being careful about how much the French flag was visible at the event (the flag is less often used outside public institutions here, and could be mistaken for a conservative political statement).

PARIS — On Saturday night, Dries Van Noten waved goodbye after a 38-year career in which he changed fashion: not just the way people wear clothes, but the way they experience them, too, in shows that defined the idea of intelligent spectacle. His last was no exception to that rule. It was the perfect conceptual bookend, in that it was a men’s show and his first actual show was a menswear presentation for Spring 1992. Now, brace for full disclosure: I’ve worn Van Noten’s clothes more than any other designer’s. (For his farewell, I shoe-horned myself into one of his sequin-covered shirts and spritzed myself with his Cannabis Patchouli scent). I was also at his second show in 1992, and just about every subsequent presentation, and most of them are benchmarks of my catwalk-adjacent career. So many memories, so much emotion. So don’t expect too much objectivity.

When Dries and I had a sign-off chat about the 38 years, the 150 collections, the 129 shows, I loved learning that there was also a practical consideration in the timing of his exit. Isn’t it better to start your next chapter as summer beckons? If he’d sayonara-ed during the women’s shows, he would have been gazing into the cheerless maw of winter, when long dark nights might inspire doubts about his decision to quit, even though that decision was actually made a long time ago.

Once Van Noten and his partner Patrick Vangheluwe decided they had a lot of living still left to do, they began the search for someone who could take over. At first, they wondered if there would even be enough substance in the business to make such an idea worthwhile. In 2018, Spanish fashion and fragrance company Puig took a majority stake. “After the valuation, when we looked at what we stood for, we realised that other people could also do their own interpretation of it,” said Van Noten. Maybe that was all the permission he needed to step aside. “Now it’s up to other people to use the principles that we’re standing for. Colour, prints, embroidery skills, the craft, the menswear fabrics … there are enough people who can work on those things and let them grow into something else.”

I told him I just couldn’t imagine Dries without Dries. “No!” he countered instantly. “The last thing that I want is that they do Dries without Dries. I would be sad that the next collection didn’t have one piece of colour, not one piece of print and not one piece of embroidery. Then I say wrong. But as long as they do a new interpretation of that with a new eye in a different way, then why not?”

The concern with such a particular aesthetic is that, when someone else attempts it, it becomes pastiche. “No, I absolutely don’t want them to do it the way that I do,” Van Noten reiterated. “I always say where you have to be the most creative is choosing the right people around you. And I always chose people who are quite different and have quite different tastes to my taste, to challenge me, to make the combination of my vision and their vision something exciting. Really the last thing I want when I see somebody who applies for a job in our team is that they present a file which looks very much like what I’m doing. I always say, this I can do better than you, so you do what you can do well. I think it’s going to be a change. And I think maybe there’ll be certain moments when I say ‘Oops, this I didn’t really see coming.’ But as long as it makes sense when the label “Dries Van Noten” is in a garment and you don’t say, ‘Oh my goodness, what did they do now with the house?’”

It’s an obvious assumption that a last collection would be a look back. Van Noten didn’t want that. Instead, he delivered a blueprint that offered a network of ways forward. “Maybe it’s going to surprise a few people that it’s not more nostalgic. But I’m happy with it. I still wanted to put a few steps forward so I worked really hard, to use new materials, try different things, maybe with success, maybe with some errors, just let’s try something. It wasn’t easy, because of course you want to tell a lot. Maybe too much. I was a little bit split. Shall I do that? Do I care? It’s my last one.”

There must have been some editing in the days after we spoke because the collection Van Noten showed had a distinctive coherence. Nothing “too much.” It was largely sombre — perhaps the significance of the occasion was inescapable there — but it had a rich seam of the muted opulence that’s been a longtime Dries signature: dully gleaming lamés, old gold bullion, foil coatings that loaned a liquid languor to jackets, trousers and the baggy shorts that have become a menswear staple. In fact, languor was the dominant mood in the general loucheness of floor-sweeping coats, pants puddling on the ground and jackets sliding off shoulders, and almost everything, no matter how dressed up, paired with sandals. Hannelore Knuts in an oversized white double-breasted blazer was the essence of Van Noten’s man-styled womenswear, closely followed by Kirsten Owens in a black officer’s coat limned by bullion embroidery. But more than anything else, it was Van Noten’s delight in high/low contrasts that sealed the look that will be his legacy: gold lamé jacket and cotton drill pants, imperial purple panné tank and baggy grey linen pants, gilding and matt black, devoré and the diaphanous, the marriage of tradition (an ancient Japanese printing technique called suminagashi) and technology (a crinkly plasticky polyamid).

For now, the idea of legacy is something he finds a little confusing. “I think you’d have to judge what’s left of it in five years.” But he suggested that where and how the clothes were designed had a part to play. Antwerp has been fundamental to his success. “When we started it was like one big adventure.” Van Noten was laughing when he remembered the early days of the Antwerp Six. “We were from Belgium, not the most fashionable country, and, at a certain moment, we thought to change our names. We were very jealous of Marina Yee and Martin Margiela because they had international names. But Walter Van Beirendonck and Ann Demeulemeester and Dirk Bikkembergs and Dries Van Noten were not easy-sounding names. I still remember the discussion that we had and the answer was, ‘Yes, but if you can say Yohji Yamamoto, you can say Ann Demeulemeester.’ So we didn’t do it.”

Memories aside, he admitted his departure had occasioned the odd tear, though he was emphatic in his declaration that he wasn’t any kind of nostalgist. The first time the collection was hung in the studio in the order in which it was to be shown, he came in to work early. “Here I was at seven o’clock in the morning and I looked at it and I said, ‘Oh my goodness, this is the last time that I will see this, that is really my child hanging there.’ And that was really difficult.” Van Noten said he cried. And he wasn’t embarrassed to say that wasn’t the first time. Or the last.

Mostly though, when he went back to old collections, he was struck by how much sense they still made. “Clothes don’t have to have a short life.” That has always been one of Van Noten’s guiding principles. “When I started in the 70s, the idea of fashion was that it was all fast forward evolution. ‘It’s so last season,’ ideas like that. That for me is not true. I succeeded in creating clothes which look fashionable without going out of fashion in one way or another.”

He has a remarkable aide-memoire in that respect: the two-volume set published in 2017 as a celebration of his first 100 shows. (Disclosure: Susannah Frankel and I wrote the text, and I’m as proud of the finished product as anything I’ve ever done — I warned you I’d shucked objectivity). Van Noten said it made him happy when he looked at the books and the images were still so resonant. “You can feel the atmosphere of the show,” he said. “I’m a storyteller and for me, the 0-100 book is not like a fashion book, it’s a storybook. And that’s something of which I’m really proud. What surprises me in my own work is that there is a clear continuity, but there’s also enough change so it’s not like I repeated myself. We have a saying in the company, when you see the trick you lose the magic. I didn’t really use the same trick too many times. I think there was still a clear evolution.”

Speaking of aides-memoires, Saturday night’s presentation was as studded with them as it was stuffed with fashion heavyweights turning out to bid Dries farewell. Karen Elson wore a pea coat adapted from the epochal Winter 2011 men’s show which saluted David Bowie’s incarnation as the Thin White Duke. There were traces of python which tracked back to the Bryan Ferry-inspired glam rockery of Winter 2006 (a show which took place in the École des Beaux Arts under multi-coloured umbrellas upended and unfurled to create a ceiling. Surrealists everywhere cheered). Van Noten’s hibiscus and palm tree prints were old friends. They’ve lurked in my closet for years. But the greatest aide-memoire of all was the marchpast of familiar faces, opening with Alain Gossuin, who walked in Van Noten’s first show. Daiane Conterato was always one of his favourites. So were Debra Shaw, Will Chalker, Clement Chabernaud and Hannelore. Kirsten Owen had travelled from her home in Vermont for the evening. She had always felt such love from Dries and Patrick when she worked with them in the past, she felt it was the least she could do to show some back. There were newer favourites too: Leon Dame, Jonas Gloer, Malick Bodian. Van Noten’s fashion family covered a generous expanse of generations.

From my experience, designers exist in a state of permanently agitated dissatisfaction. Ask them about the collection they just showed today, and they’ll say they’re already thinking about the one they have to start tomorrow. I asked Dries if there was ever a moment when he got home the night of a show and was able to tell himself that it couldn’t have been any better than it was. “For me, the closest to perfection was the 50th show, on the table.”

For that presentation, Spring 2005, the venue was a warehouse on the outskirts of Paris. 500 guests were served dinner at a single long table bisecting the shadowy, cavernous space illuminated by 130 chandeliers which, when service was over, rose to accommodate the transformation of table to runway. The production highlighted the invaluable contribution producer Etienne Russo has made to Van Noten’s career. He worked on all 129 shows, often achieving breathtaking effects with nothing more than light, shadow, scale and knife-edge ingenuity. In 2005, for example, there was no sophisticated software to coordinate the descent and ascent of the chandeliers nor the commemorative book that each guest received at their place settings. “The lighting guy was saying that to bring the chandeliers and the books up and down at the same time, a whole group of switches had to be moved simultaneously,” Van Noten recalled. “So they took a long piece of wood and two people pushed the switches all at once.” From such a human, pre-digital touch was jaw-dropping magic made. “The only thing that went wrong is that one model walked a little too slow in the finale. The waiters were students but they did it perfectly, not one dish fell on the ground, no one bumped into each other.”

Van Noten used the same location for Saturday night’s show. I did wonder whether he might be about to revisit past glories, but he is not sentimental like that. He claimed the choice was out of necessity because everything else was booked for the Olympics. So, no table, though Russo once again bisected the space, this time with a long sliver of catwalk carpeted with drifting leaves of silver foil that the models kicked through as they walked. I thought back to Spring 2014, same effect with a backdrop of fluttering gold leaf. (The opulence! The simplicity!)

Back in 1976, when Van Noten announced to his parents that he would rather train to be a designer than work in the family business, his father wasn’t happy. “Not with my money,” he declared. So Dries had to work to pay for his fashion studies at the Royal Academy of Fine Arts in Antwerp. But twenty years later, when Van Noten père first came to visit Rigenhof, the magical 50-acre estate that Dries and Patrick have created outside Lier, he was impressed enough to concede that his wayward son had made the right decision. In 2017, Van Noten was made a baron by the King of Belgium. A month ago, he became a Commandeur des Arts et des Lettres in France. They’re honorifics which suggest a passage into an august old age. It’s not a prospect which troubles him. He insists he’s never been bothered by ageing, aside from a hiccup at 36. “That was the biggest shock, you’re not young anymore and you see friends from school with kids on a bicycle.”

But by his own account, Dries and Patrick have excelled at being gay uncles, although his brother’s grandchildren, aged six and eight, recently had to wrap their heads around the confusing realisation that the guys they thought were their parents’ age were actually the same age as their grandfather. “They thought of their grandparents as old people but they didn’t think of ‘Dries and Patrick’ as old people. I was so proud.” Van Noten laughs at the irony. Still, it reinforces how important it has always been for him to be surrounded by young people. “Sometimes I feel a bit that I’m a vampire. I need them to feed me. They have to challenge me, they have to push me forward. And that was something I discussed for a long time with Patrick. How can we fill that in? We’re not even middle-aged anymore. So with the projects that I’m working on, I’m still involved with young people because that keeps me young. If I thought it was only going to be me and Patrick and a few friends the same age as us? Come on, no, don’t do that to me!”

So they’ll travel. Now they will no longer be juggling Italian and Belgian production schedules in the summer months, Dries and Patrick might get a proper break. “Don’t get me wrong, the last thing I want to do now is take three weeks of holiday. I think I’ve learned that you can also have a good life without that. We dream now to fly to whatever city in Italy, get a car and drive to our house on the Amalfi coast, take our time to go from one place to another, stop at a nice restaurant for lunch. Though of course I would love for us to travel a little bit further, to see more things. I want to go back to India. It’s a while ago and my soul is definitely still a little bit in India. I want to go to Scotland. I’ve never managed to get there. And I would love to go to New Zealand.”

Everything was still very present-tense for Van Noten when we talked. As in, “My life is fashion, and fashion is my life, when I look at something, it’s always a function of creating fashion.” No surprise really, but I wondered what happens when fashion is no longer present as a creative outlet. “Honestly, I’m afraid of that,” he answered. He worried about “the black hole” one could fall into once you’ve closed the door. “I don’t know how frustrated I’m going to be that I can’t do that anymore, to translate creativity. I’m still going to be involved in the company, I’ll still continue to work on beauty and the perfumes because it’s a project which I really like. I’m still going to be involved with store designs, luckily enough. If I see a good artist or a nice piece of furniture, I can still take a picture on my phone and send ideas to the architect. This hopefully can continue.” He laughed, a little nervously I thought.

But there was one final perfect element on Saturday night which consolidated Van Noten’s enduring grip on fashion’s imagination — mine at least — and that was the soundtrack. I can’t think of a favourite Dries show without the music that accompanied it. To select a mere two from an abundance of riches: the tick-tock dissection of Bowie’s “Golden Years” that accompanied that Thin White Duke tribute in Winter 2011 (“Heroes” received similar treatment for the women’s show that followed) and the exultant cacophony of Godspeed You! Black Emperor’s “Motherfucker=Redeemer” that soundtracked the hundreds of thousands of fairy lights rising and falling in curtains for the climax of the Winter 2003 women’s show. They will resound in my head till the day I shuffle off this mortal coil. The Dewaele brothers David and Stephen, working as either 2manydjs or Soulwax, have been responsible for many of the aural counterparts to Van Noten’s artistry. So it was appropriate they provided the soundtrack for his send-off, and even more so that it involved a complicated tapestry of Bowie music, culminating in “Sound&Vision,” two words that define everything a Dries show was about.

I asked him if there was one soundtrack that was a personal favourite. “Yes, absolutely. Malcolm McLaren, the punk collection [Winter 2010, for the record], the first one we did at the Hôtel de Ville, where he mixed the music from ‘Vertigo’ with the sounds of punk and cowbells and things like that. I had to phone him to explain what the collection was about, and he said, ‘You’re also using some punk elements?’ and I said, ‘It’s not really punk, it’s the idea behind punk.’ And he said, ‘Ok, now I want you to describe the collection, but don’t talk to me, I’m giving you two minutes and you have to shout to me what the collection is about.’ So I was on the phone screaming to him, and he said, ‘Now I get it. That’s what I wanted to hear.’ That was the only contact that I had with him, and afterwards he came back with that incredible masterpiece of a soundtrack. And it was his last masterpiece. He couldn’t be present at the show, because he knew it was his last days. I think he passed away five days later.”

McLaren called the piece of music he made for Dries “Requiem to Myself.” Requiems usually accompany a mournful send-off for the dear departed, and it was typical of Malcolm to take it upon himself to compose his own. But even though Saturday night was a swansong and tears were shed, there was nothing mournful about it. Dries made it a quarter of the way down the catwalk, gave his usual diffident wave and turned back as a massive mirrorball was revealed in all its slowly rotating glory. “I Feel Love” rang out on the soundtrack. Was he walking into a disco sunset or was this a new dawn? I hope he felt the love, like I hope I wasn’t alone in my faith that we have still to see Dries Van Noten’s last masterpiece. After all, he assured me this wouldn’t be our last interview.