It was so simple. Back to those notes: T-shirt, coat, slip, skirt, suit, bra, etc., etc., etc. No embellishment needed. Jacobs distilled a radical moment of transition in style, between the suited young ladies of the early sixties and the free spirits of the later part of the decade, the kind of woman Edie was, passing from preppy-proper to pilled-out style icon in her patent leather and leopard spots, petaled hems and smudgy mascara-ed eyes. And stripes. So many stripes, parallel lines, black and white and sequined, like Lou Reed lyrics coming to life. But it's the genius of Jacobs that something that was so powerfully evocative of the past didn't seem retro or nostalgic. This is partly because his approach to anything that came before is so obviously cavalier. Look at the ease with which he renders his own immediate past—as in last season, with its OTT headgear—quite literally old hat.