In May , when the Metropolitan Museum of Art unveiled its mega Costume Institute show, “Camp: Notes on Fashion,” Jeremy Scott , creative director of Moschino and founder of his own line, was the single most represented name in the show. It featured 15 or so of his pieces, including a prosciutto dress from early in his career and the TV-dinner gown from the Moschino show last season — and that, in its train/tray, beef-’n’-mash glory, became a talking point for almost anyone who went to the museum, whether or not she had ever paid attention to the fashion show.

And it was hard not to wonder this season: How could he possibly top that? At a moment when all of life seems like a high camp performance, from Boris Johnson’s hair to Billy Porter’s various entrances, how would Mr. Scott assume the mantle as the bard of the absurd?

Instead of going low, he went high.

Eschewing his usual pop culture punning — McDonald’s, paper dolls, TV game shows — his riff was on Picasso: the artist’s muses, his most famous paintings, his passion for bullfighting. All given Mr. Scott’s signature made-for-the-small-screen treatment: Cubist portraits mocked up in bright colors on a minidress; a black and white body sketched onto a canvas with its own semiportable baroque frame; multiple versions of the artist’s “G uitar ;” a harlequin bodysuit (plus a few wearable derivations, to remind you this was a commercial venture, including shifts speckled with naïf flowers and a draped sheath dress with a picture frame pin at the shoulder).