Everything about this felt like turning down the volume — from the set, which was a library (as opposed to Karl’s grandiose fake-beach, the fake autumn day in the park, or the pseudo-chalet of his posthumous swan song), to the collection itself. Chanel had revved up into one of those enormously decked-out collections where you really had to peel away at it to find something relatable, and the stars who went straight-off-the-catwalk often looked costumey as a result. Virginie Viard seems to be trying to deflect the attention from her inheritance of the top job (Vogue says she didn’t even take her full final bow) by bringing the house back to its foundations, and putting the clothes on topmost display. It’ll be fun to see where she takes it from here.
