Brandon Maxwell skipped a season, and I think the show was better for it. He chose the Brant Foundation and a quartet of New York Philharmonic players, and he said he wanted to feel intention in his choices. He also said he does not need to do a show every season, only when it feels right.

He opened with a new catsuit, since a catsuit is how he began eleven years ago, and the rest is uncomplicated sportswear. Trousers appeared in more than half the looks, and belts did too. There were no prints at all, and very little embroidery beyond sturdy grommets on boxy cashmere sweaters.

To my eye, that restraint is what makes a sweater matter. When nothing else is shouting, you notice the shape, so let's start with the knitwear.

The most personal story was about skirts and pleats. Two pairs of culottes with box pleats, and a dramatic black and white cocktail dress, were a do-over from his first collection. He admitted that the weighty pleated sleeves of one dress from that debut had stayed with him ever since.

So he worked at it, doing "14 or 15 muslins" until the pleats were the way he wanted. I find that so endearing, and a little funny too. It is rare to hear a designer admit that he spent a season fixing an old mistake.

That is why I find the skirt so interesting here. A structured shape with room to move is the answer to a question he had been asking himself for years, and I think he answered it well.

Repetition is how he made his case. Take his five-pocket pant, straight through the leg, cut in denim or a sheer technical nylon. Add a turtleneck and a roomy button-down over it, and the outfit is done. I would wear that every week, and the shirt is the part that makes it work.

When the occasion calls for a jacket, his is cut with slits beneath the lapel, so a shawl can be threaded through and stay put. I love a clever detail that is also useful. Leather appeared in about a third of the looks, including a trench car coat with laser cut slits, and a sweater knotted on turned up in about one in ten, a casual touch over all that polish.

I think this collection earns the word honest. I would wear the straight-leg pants, a turtleneck, and the roomy button-down, in gray or khaki, and add the single flash of chartreuse if I felt brave. Bags were in about half the looks, and I would carry one the same way, without fuss.

Long after the show, what I remember is a designer who spent a season fixing an old mistake. He was only half-kidding about being haunted by those heavy sleeves, and I find that more convincing than any manifesto.