There’s a pair of shoes left in disarray, as if they were kicked off in a rush or a moment of careless freedom, and a half-eaten apple slowly browning in the open air. This is the still-life presentation that’s unfolding inside the cavernous atrium of a former factory-turned-mixed-use space, tucked away down a narrow corridor off the once-lively, now-sleepy Rue de Lappe in Paris. The sun filters down through the glass ceiling as models weave through it. They meander like it’s summer and they have nothing but the whole day ahead of them — nowhere they must be, nothing they must do but let hour dissolve into the next.

Designer Kinyan Lam was going for lightness with his spring-summer 2027 collection, presented as part of the Fashion Farm Foundation, established in 2012 to champion Hong Kong-based fashion designers. And lightness is everywhere. An open-back frock is worn over another dress, its misty layers festooned with yellow flowers. An airy boat-neck top balloons over the body and gathers asymmetrically around the upper thighs; this can be worn alone or over pants for an instant cool-girl effect.

Elsewhere, a sculptural top rises into a blooming floral neck, its roots branching out at the curved, bar-style waist. Each flower was dyed and treated by hand to mimic the wrinkled, corrugated surface of flower petals. It’s not difficult to see that the Chinese designer has a certain affection for nature. He works with materials made from natural fibers and relies on flowers, fruit, and roots for their dyeing properties. Those colors, too, feel fresh and drawn from the natural world: lemon yellow, sky blue, grassy green, and lots of white.

Upstairs on the mezzanine, some guests lean over for a bird’s-eye view of Kinyan’s presentation. Others browse the works of fellow designers, lined up on large wooden planks: Demo, Matt Hui, Aenrmous, Ponder.er, and Studio Redemptive. One of my favorites is a classically tailored pinstripe blazer by Demo, who’s known for softening traditional silhouettes with handmade elements. Layered over a collared knit embellished with beaded detailing, the blazer features a handcrafted floral charm near the lapel, with crocheted orange blossoms and delicate dangling stems. 

Going deeper into the heart of the building, another summer vignette unfolds. This time, we’re taken to a seaside cottage on the French Riviera. Though the curtains are drawn, you can imagine the sparkling blue bays and the endless sunshine outside. (The latter is easier to picture, as it’s been quite hot in Paris.) Design duo Calvin Chan and Joyce Kun, behind the brand The World Is Your Oyster, were inspired by Françoise Sagan’s 1954 coming-of-age novel, “Bonjour Tristesse,” which follows a teenager over a carefree summer on the French Riviera with her wealthy, widowed father.

One of the models lounges lazily in a deep, low-slung armchair. One perches on a beige couch, lost in a dog-eared paperback. Another wanders the room, perhaps dreaming of what to do next. (Crepes and cocktails at a plein-air cafe, perhaps?) The clothes follow suit, pulled from the vocabulary of this imaginary holiday: decorative tops crafted with iridescent shells, layered under easy-breezy summer dusters or over long-sleeved separates. I can imagine they’d style just as beautifully over a swimsuit. 

Mother-of-pearl buttons punctuate armholes; skinny leather belts dangle with seashells. Scarf details are everywhere: skinny and relaxed, adding a bit of chic to tops, or oversized and bundled into big, nonchalant bows around the neck. Every piece has a distinct ease, with well-placed ties at the hems of shorts that feel part sporty, part dressy. The palette tells the same story: calming blues, sandy beiges, earthy browns, flashes of yellow, and hazy grays — the color of a cool morning by the sea. 

As much as I want to linger just a little longer here, there’s more to see. Another floor, and I’m in Tigerstrolling’s world. Separated by a covering of plastic film, the runway curves around a mound of tall and disheveled, yellowing grass. It’s so thick and hazy that I can see the beams of light in the air — an illusion created to communicate some sort of a utopia where, as the show notes read, “traditional garments fuse with futuristic materials, and identities blur.” 

The first look I see when I arrive is a gray coat with a pompom-like texture and generous lapels with dandelion-like tufts that mimic a fur-esque finish. The model drifts through the haze like a character out of Blade Runner; the scene is so ethereal, so cinematic, I almost forget where I am. Next comes a reflective houndstooth vest, with two shoulder pauldrons that resemble a suit of armor. Beneath it: a mesh glove top and black pleated skort. 

Elsewhere, co-founders Tiger Chung Ka Ching and Tiger Chung Tsz Ho push the dystopian narrative even further, weaving unconventional materials into unexpected places. Earphones trim hems and necklines; steel wires fasten tops; tiny army men nestle into collars and adorn whimsical eye masks. Lace and sequins intermingle with tulle and mesh, with the latter sewn and layered over a killer trench coat. (I love how this effect works to blur the outline of the garments.) 

Outside this makeshift terrarium, a display of the designers’ moodboard offers a glimpse into the thought process behind the clothes, with materials and fabrics laid out alongside reference imagery. One of my favorites, a dramatic drop-waisted tulle dress, I learn, was upcycled from a kimono. Nearby, a 1940s photograph captures a grinning worker tightening the nose plugs of a bomb. Another shows British actress Peggy Hyland in a Red Cross nurse’s uniform, a likely reference for the cross applique on a lace top. Standing here, I begin to make out the universe Tigerstrolling has built: a version of the future that’s a time and place of strange, illusive beauty that I want to return to again and again.