"Subversive" was the word Lucas Ossendrijver used to describe this season's vibe. Where there is tension, there is energy. The tension arose from the face-off between the classicism of the Old World and the urgency of the New. Outerwear that may have started life as an officer's coat (double-breasted, épauletted) was re-seamed to within a millimeter of the models' whippet-thin forms and closed with magnets instead of buttons. Though one jacket had sporty puffa quilting attached to its front, the monochrome torso was more linear than ever, made even more so by the wide-cut flares that went with it (there were still leggings—narrow, zipped-ankle numbers—too). That particular silhouette -tightly tailored jacket, baggy pants- was the quintessence of Lanvin's mix of Old and New. It could have been Berlin in the thirties; Bowie in the seventies; Depp, or any other dandy in the Naughties underworld. What it also represented for Alber Elbaz was "a return to elegance -the word is always being used to describe old people. When you talk about the young, it's always 'cool' or 'sexy', but we wanted to introduce elegance to the young". Helping make the introduction was an emphasis on composure and restraint. What stood out was how covered up the models were in their layers. Some wore wide fedoras mysteriously pulled low over one eye (another of this week's irresistible links to a Bowie incarnation -the alien Thomas Jerome Newton in 'The Man who fell to Earth', 1976). But otherwise, everything was directed to highlighting the faces of the boys. The final outfits featured velvet jackets over white shirts buttoned to the neck. Underneath, a mock turtleneck pushed the models' faces up into the light. Mr Elbaz and Mr Ossendrijver have always emphasized the individuality of the Lanvin man. Here was a striking acknowledgement of that commitment.