That has a way of taking your mind in a different direction. So perhaps it was fitting that Mr. Piccioli framed his collection not as escapism but rather as an opportunity to put the old idea to rest and move on.

“The essence of the dream of couture is its past,” he said, standing next to a bulletin board tacked with pictures of Audrey Hepburn and Charles James gowns. “But I was not the kind of kid who had a grandma who wore couture. So I wanted to take elements of classic couture — volume, ruffles, bows — but do them in the lightest way I could imagine, because it is only when you confront your past that you can face your future.”

And so he did.

It began with a slouchy ivory tank top and brown wool trousers, under a billowing amber silk faille cape edged in oversize ruffles and an umbrella hat covered in aquamarine ostrich feathers trailing jellyfish fronds.

There was a fuchsia satin T-shirt over baggy red trousers under a gold taffeta coat with a train; a double-face cashmere sweatshirt patchworked with lace anemone intarsia atop anemone-printed moiré pants; and a navy cashmere pea coat paired with explosive taffeta palazzo pants.

Dresses came in truncated, tented taffeta beneath coronas of quivering leaf hats, and as silver-embroidered lace tank gowns under slouchy matching cardigans — as easy as a nightgown and robe. The effect was enthralling: Luscious though it all was, the stuffing had been let out. It was couture for the casual, everyday era, without pandering or gimmicks. Oh, this old (extraordinary) thing? I just threw it on this morning.