called his show "Di Meliora"—"Heaven send us better times"—and soundtracked it with sonorous cathedral chants. Free-associating, I thought of the deeply religious Cristobal Balenciaga and his obsessive, lifelong quest for the perfect sleeve as the path to transcendence. Lynn has also obsessively refined his aesthetic over the years, but it's pants, not sleeves, he's fixated on. For Fall, they came impossibly lean and long, in leather, wool, and velvet, unbuttoning over vertiginous Louboutins. The designer paired them with equally fitted jackets, their attenuated silhouette underpinned by second-skin leather turtlenecks. The look has a certain appeal, but it's also utterly unforgiving, and that transported the mind (this one, anyway) to a fantasy realm where a rigorously chic but intransigent religious body would be drawn to Lynn's update of the Grand Inquisitor's rig. Accessories—the strands of trailing crystal, the long black satin scarf with cross-shaped crystal insets, the fringes of hair that trimmed the models' ankles—compounded the effect. The final outfits—a white satin cutaway tux over a white leather body, the same in black—played like the angel and devil on Lynn's shoulders. George Michael sang "You gotta have faith" as the designer took his bow. Faith in the minimal body mass index of your customer, perhaps?