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Well, that was a downer. Not President Trump’s recent blame-the-press conference; the Marc Jacobs show.

Maybe we should have expected it. This designer’s singular skill, after all, is discerning which way the wind is blowing and capturing that moment in cloth.

On Thursday, Mr. Jacobs brought New York Fashion Week to a close with a disconcertingly depressing if very well-merchandised ode to the documentary “Hip-Hop Evolution” and a moment in time when everything changed.

(Speaking of dress, of course.)

In the cavernous 67th Street Armory, empty but for two long lines of folding chairs set up to form a corridor-cum-runway, Mr. Jacobs turned off the sound: The show was absent both music and the clicks of cellphones. Guests had been asked not to take pictures, because the chief executive, Sebastian Suhl, said before it all began, “Marc wants everyone to experience the show” with their own eyes, as opposed to through the eye of the camera. Mostly, everyone complied.

They used their own eyes to see the silent, unsmiling girls do the walk of, not shame, exactly, but kind of, in thigh-high dresses that ranged from ribbed knits to beads, sequins and lace, all under granddad jackets in plaid or cord. Sometimes they had shearling collars; sometimes, fur arms. They were largely in shades of brown and rust.

There were some slouchy flares, but mostly it was just jackets and dresses, all the way down — and hats (bowlers and paperboy caps with exaggerated crowns), boots (stacked heel, sometimes platform), bags (scrunchy or frame or even dangling on a chain around the neck) and big old costume jewelry. All together it was a look. Taken apart and in the shop, it will add up to a lot of product, a lot of it good. But any excitement generated was crushed under the general Weltanschauung. Sound familiar?

Afterward everyone shuffled silently out the door, where it turned out the models were all perched on a Park Avenue sidewalk, special matching cellphones trained on the exiting invitees, as what would have been the show soundtrack blared from some speakers. Mr. Jacobs himself disappeared around the corner, trailing an insinuation in his wake: Hah! Fooled you! See what it feels like?

Yeah. Try that one on for size.

PHOTO: The Marc Jacobs fall 2017 show ended on Park Avenue. Credit: Ben Sklar for The New York Times

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( Source: The New York Times )

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