At the end of it, he will connect with that elusive muse who’s always been just out of reach. With this mens collection, essentially his first, apart from the one-off he presented at Pitti in Florence a few years back, his aim is much closer to home. Ackermann is searching for himself, someone he would like to be…A dozen or so Parisian bad boys languidly strolled around in their slouchy finery, carefully chosen substitute the image the designer had evoked for himself. Most of them were significantly inked. “They catch a moment with their tattoos,” said Ackermann. “I’d like to have been one of them.” But he’s never got the the nerve to do it. “Hiding behind something.” It was a curious divulgence, given that his clothes were so distinctive with their combination of high luxury and supreme slouch. Like the voluminous trousers with pulled up cuffs, tracksuit leisurely but embellished with green silk dragons, put together with a blazer piped sleeper in ice blue. The optimum gift with purchase for that ensemble would be an opium pipe. Aforesaid with the kimono characteristic dinner jacket in lilac duchesse satin, its pairing trousers exhibiting the drop crotch that is Haider Ackermann’s own sartorial signature. His collections, for women, and now men, are fragments of himself. Although he insisted that doing men’s clothes ended up being more concerted than womenswear, more about precision, more about the garment itself. The fact remains that the quality of beauty and intensity of his clothes is an expression of the man himself.