Nothing says dystopian like an Andy Stott track. The cold-hearted “Science and Industry” tumbled through the École des Beaux-Arts as Lanvin’s brooding, street-cast models whisked around the audience, this time stacked on pyramid bleachers in the center of the courtyard and gazing upon statuary.
The collection was strong, if drained of emotion: a synopsis of the season’s news in its dark and moody palette; the imperfect, toned-down approach to luxury; and more generous proportions in outerwear and pants.
The show opened with a treatise on uniforms — another fixation for fall — all in gray mélange fabrics or Prince of Wales check and drained of military signposts but for the occasional flap pocket on shirt-like jackets.
Creative director Alber Elbaz and wingman Lucas Ossendrijver — early instigators of feminized men’s wear — here stuck to traditional fabrics: olive drab for handsome parkas licked with leather and alpaca fluff; sturdy wools for sculptural topcoats, the raglan sleeves demarcated with topstitching.
High-waist pants, beefy cardigans and elongated blazers all had an oversize slouch. Overcoats and T-shirts in sturdy cotton faille also came oversize, as they did in Lanvin’s women’s pre-fall collection.
Errant threads on suede and leather coats deflated the precious character Lanvin’s garments possess, giving them more of a Seventies, rock ’n’ roll connotation. The show climaxed with minimalist coats in leather bonded to Neoprene, these paired with narrow trousers that drained into black combat boots.
“Less of a uniform and more of an individual,” Elbaz concluded backstage. “That’s the most important thing: Not to get lost in fashion, but to get lost in translation.”