Véronique Leroy subscribes to the clothing-as-costume school of thought, and her collections are often a cast of characters. For Spring, she found them in René Féret's 1977 film La Communion Solennelle, a flick this reviewer has not seen. Backstage, Leroy explained the three roles: The first is a severe and spartan aunt, the second a flamboyant mutton-dressed-as-lamb mother, and the third a prim teen. Thankfully, the designer explores archetypes only to turn things on their heads. The spotless white shirting and no-fun brown linen in the first part of this triumvirate is nurselike in a boxy smock (part of Leroy's continuing obsession with uniforms) but turns sexy in an elastic-waist cropped top and skirt or a curve-clinging woven dress. And a sherbet-colored knit halter and pencil skirt in the third has sass to its sweetness. The threads that drew it all together were the familiar outlines of a fifties silhouette in both flaring full skirts and strict pencil skirts with hems past the knee. Leroy's slightly off-kilter sensibility—check out the kooky-cute crystal hairpins and anklets, and the animal-printed seersucker—keeps it from being just another retro lady redux. Archetypal perhaps, but never typical.