Rick Owens has been thinking about Marlene Dietrich. In fact, she’s a recurring figure on his moodboard, but in uncertain times her story carries renewed resonance. In the show notes, Owens traced what he called “the dignified sequence of her life’s stages”: first, “a steely, glittering sexual provocateur”; then “an example of duty and service during wartime”; and finally “a tightly-controlled cabaret act, sparingly staged with only a sheer dress, a huge white cloud of a coat and a pink spotlight.”

Of course Owens’ version of Marlene’s white fur coat was feral. Vast swathes of mélanged wool exploding into wild, all-encompassing silhouettes. On a runway thick with smoke, this was Old Hollywood production plunged into an apocalyptic landscape. The fabrics themselves were steeped in craft, woven by a fifth-generation mill in Japan’s Bishū region and by Bonotto, the fourth-generation Venetian manufacturer long favoured by Owens.

The show opened with what Owens calls “tower sheaths”, elongated columns in glossy bull leather, boiled wool fringe or Kevlar – the ultra-strong fibre used in protective armour, and a carry-on from last season. From there, silhouettes warped into sci-fi, shoulders rose into architectural peaks, ears sharpened into alien points, and cropped jackets clung tightly to the arms and upper torso, designed to be worn alone or layered with matching vests to stretch the body into elongated proportions. Distressed denim looked like it’d been sand-blasted by a desert storm, alongside contorted, macramé gowns made in collaboration with London-based designer Lucas Moretti – each taking over 50 hours to knot by hand.

This season was all about adapting in times of global uncertainty; it was about putting on your biggest coat and stepping into the spotlight.