Showing at the French Communist party headquarters was the first clue that Dries Van Noten had turned the page on his romantic leanings. The drabness of the setting was the perfect foil for a rigorous and serious collection, a manifesto on dressing for success – in a Cold War bureaucracy. The policy change left no room for Van Noten’s recent habits: pleasing prints, billowy fabrics. But the intriguing proportions and subtle quirks were still lurking. Through a multitude of belted coats, double-breasted suits with exaggerated shoulders, pleated trousers and generously cut shirts, he proved that austerity needn’t constrict. Some suits could be worn two ways—buttoned single-breasted, or gathered further by a hook-and-eye. Trousers were cropped at the ankle, the better to show off tasseled loafers, or an odd slip-on with non-functioning laces. For good or bad, the palette of pistachio, burgundy and rust evoked Seventies station-wagon interiors. Only the most confident of men could design— or wear—clothes inspired by an era known for ugliness, and make them look this chic.