Henri Alexandre stepped up his game, offering a rich lineup of what he does best: bending classics like thick leather biker jackets, straight-cut suit coats and T-shirts to his contemporary punk aesthetic, his artwork sprinkled throughout. A plum sweater had a comic strip printed across the front, in white. “My Nazi Parents,” it reads, the story of a child raging at negligent but well-meaning parents for not getting him the right record.

Embellishments on the black, leather jackets included panels of antique tapestry fabric — the real thing, he said, adding he has an army of kids snapping up the stuff on the Internet — washed and shrunk.

On the back of another biker jacket was a historic photo pulled out of a book he found in a thrift store about train wrecks. More symbolism came in the form of a silver life jacket with black straps, a lifeline one hoped his angst-ridden rich kid would choose over the noose hanging on the wall.

Shoes were polished — he moved production to Italy — and the soft soles carried a message: My feet will never touch the ground. Everyone is trying to broadcast personal stories to the world, but it felt like this one might stick.

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