Tilda was in the building but this was not a Haider Ackermann show as we know it. For starters, gone were the jewel-like palette and colour combinations that probably make everyone else in the business go, 'why didn’t I think of that?' Also missing were the intricate folds and twists of the fabrics, the constructions that look as if they’re just holding on, secured by an obi belt while falling off. Plus, there were no dresses bar one. But worry not, this was Ackermann alright – poetic and oddly melancholic while staggeringly beautiful and utterly, utterly desirable. There was misty white smoke, the sound of boots on the ground and the fragile, wanting voice of Marilyn Monroe singing, 'Kiss Me'. Fragility and strength – fashion loves to throw those two in the same pit to see what happens and in the trusted hands of Ackermann strength won but barely so.
The women that walked out of the mist seemed battle worn with their warrior Mohawks tousled, their military jackets frayed, their collars torn off. The palette matched the faded frescoes on the walls of the Espace Vendome: grey, brown, khaki, only a flash of purple revealing itself on the lining of a jacket. It may sound sombre but it was captivating. A collarless tweed jacket was belted over a military uniform one, oversize platinum cuffs showing through, and teamed with baggy khaki drawstring trousers with a contrasting stripe of purple velvet running down the side and sturdy boots. The way a tweed top or a scarf-like black and white one folded around the models’ necks was pure Ackermann but teamed with mannish trousers the effect was streamlined and direct. Skinny python leather and shiny metallic lamé trousers were the alternatives to the tailoring. The stars of the show though were the shearling bomber jackets and long houndstooth and parka coats – better start saving for those! The lone velvet long dress, one shoulder bare, the other snaking around the neckline, evoked a romanticism that, for this show, was left somewhere behind that wall of white mist.