Under electrifying lasers carving out caverns of smoke, guests at the Margiela show gathered in Paris for the first menswear collection from the Maison since it (rather casually) dropped the middle M from its name. As the models walked onto the runway in a swathe of psych-acid sound, a warped sense of 1970s boogie nights nostalgia followed on with them.

Perhaps it was those oversized collars, or the blown out waistbands that suggested a whiff of something more free – and flared. Still, that crisp sense of referential composure soon gave way, the frayed edges of deconstruction ebbing quickly into view. Silk sewn onto waistbands rather than into linings, frayed edges and hems here and there. Gape-necked shirts, sleeve lengths in variation, slid over wide legged trousers whose accompanying belts become obscured by exaggerated loops (all 80mm or so) and pockets.

The models’ pigmented fingers tied into the painterly prints cast across a standout collaged coat, before a series of shimmering accents defined in loose tinselled knitted stripes. Bouncing reflections on gleaming leather surfaces, pieces to rock out to nostalgia in – whilst grounding yourself firmly in an eccentric feel of the now.