There was an odd atmosphere hovering over the small gathering of people who were invited to view the last remnants of Jil Sander's work under her own name. The design team (who worked at her side in the nineties) finished the collection after she quit, so it was hard to look at the vaguely military-influenced collection without guessing where Sander left off and the anonymous backstage hands took over. Did she choose the dark melton cashmeres with their tab front fastenings, decide on the rounded shoulders and raised waists? Was she feeling for total looks of white or copper sequins before she left, or were those last two evening pieces filled in by the replacement committee?

It doesn't matter, of course. Intellectual analysis stops now that the Sander era is over, and for the time being at least, the house's output need only be scored on its commercial merits. Judged in that light, it met the criteria of wearability, adaptation to current trend, and a certain minimal sharpness. Eighteenth century militaria was applied to dolman-sleeve jackets and high-belted short coats (though whether Sander would have placed fabric imitation medals on the breast of a jacket was a hard question to beat back). The inevitable egg-shape skirt, weighted by a deep band of fabric in the hem, came out paired with a Sander staple: a drapey, semisheer V-neck sweater. For evening, embellishment and shine cropped up, in the form of Western fringing embedded in the flanks of a velvet dress, and the aforementioned sequins, decorating a white coat and a copper dress. In general, it looked fine. But whether the collection will find footing as a leader or a follower in the seasons to come is an issue that's left hanging.