Just don't call this collection mod. Veronique Branquinho had scores of people to hug backstage—friends seemed relieved that she once again opted for a runway show (the Belgian designer returned to the catwalk last September after a three-year hiatus) —but she also took a moment to shoot down the idea that the collection was a nod to the sixties.

In one sense, that was obvious; no explanation necessary. Filmy, sheer, and iridescent lamé fabrics were more otherworldly than other-timely. There was an equally strong impression made by the elongated shape Branquinho applied to her bomber, blazer, and motorcycle jackets. Even the ribbon ends from a placket drifted untethered from the shirt as if they had outgrown their natural boundary. And while Branquinho alone cannot steer people toward this new shape, she made a strong case for its freshness.

The less persuasive elements were comparatively less significant: Diagonal lines that bisected the torso and outsized frilly cuffs (sometimes removed from shirtsleeves and worn like oversized bracelets) did not jibe naturally with the collection. The wood plank staging also seemed unusual in light of so much shimmer. Branquinho revealed that she loves natural materials, and the way that crystals may be brilliant but originate in a dark place—just like her kohl-eyed models. This notion of duality makes for a good sound bite, but goes deeper than necessary. On the other hand, Branquinho didn't need to do much explaining in regard to a final series of white poplin shirts, all echoing the earlier looks. Here, with seemingly less effort, she nailed the timelessness she tried to convey elsewhere.