Captain Jack Sparrow is alive and well, and you could spy him tonight at Gaultier. Amid the smoke and spotlights at the back of his runway was a pirate girl wearing swashbuckling jodhpurs, a black blouse gathered and twisted below the bosom, and a wide-brimmed hat- all that was missing was the gold teeth and the eye liner. Like the Black Pearl, Gaultier's ship gets around. From North American shores came the camouflage, cut into vests, trenches, and sleeveless dresses, trussed up here with military frogging and fringed epaulets. From Africa, the safari jackets and the multicolor crochet dresses. France provided the sailor sweater, done up not in the designer's signature off-white and navy striped cotton, but in sequins and beads.

The pirate conceit gave this layer-loving designer an opportunity to really pour it on, and not just with the accessories. (Which, by the way, included all manner of fringed scarves, skullcaps, pipes—Lily Donaldson puffed away as she strutted down the runway—and the occasional umbrella with a pistol for a handle.) There were bustiers made from three torso-gripping leather belts, alternately paired with a weightless cardigan and silken balloon pants or an off-kilter tutu—one side cut at the hips, the other extending to mid-calf—with striped tights peeking out from underneath.

Instead of his usual solitary finale bride, Gaultier sent out a veritable bridal party in bohemian crochet, eyelet, and lace, or creamy clouds of tulle. Not one was likely to march down a church aisle without a few alterations for modesty's sake, but no matter: The pirate tale was thrill-a-minute, and, picked apart, filled with plenty of wearable booty.