PARIS, France — There have been other collections, not just the one we saw tonight, which suggest Dries Van Noten is clearly someone who has never needed chemical assistance to access the psychedelic visions in his head. The theory has been advanced that such people may have a more active pineal gland than the rest of us, in which case we lesser mortals can only step back and wonder that the mild-mannered, cultured Dries must surely be, on the inside, a wild-eyed dreamer quite the match of any of the Merry Pranksters on Ken Kesey's psychedelic bus. Van Noten actually enlisted Wes Wilson, who designed the fliers for Kesey's original "acid tests" in the mid-1960s, to recreate the now-iconic style of his original rock posters for the new collection's swirly, hallucinatory graphics. The soundtrack, a 1969 piece called Pop Eclectic by French composer Bernard Parmegiani, was the kind of weaving, trippy improv you could really…ahem…lose yourself in. Throw in the Joshua Light Show and we'd all have been back at the Fillmore in the flicker of an acid flashback.

But Van Noten is never that predictable. He mounted his salute to psychedelia on the stage of the most august cultural institution in Paris, the Opera Garnier. The photographers were at the very front of the stage, the models posed in a tableau at the very back, where the dancers usually congregate. The audience lined the walls of the acreage between. It was as awe-inspiring as a privileged glimpse behind the scenes of such a place invariably is, made even more so by the fact that Van Noten had been waiting 15 years for the opportunity.

He was thrilled, but he didn't seem remotely fazed. When the "yes" came through in October, the collection was already well under way, but with such a mythic venue in hand, Van Noten asked himself: "Shall we show dream or reality?" Hey, why quibble? The show ran the gamut, opening with a washed black wool trench with a squiggle of ceremonial ribbon snaking down its yoke, and a plain navy blazer (same decoration, this time on the sleeve) to a jacket that ladled gilded insignia and bullion all over a collage of gold brocade and peacock jacquard, and a dissected greatcoat that was similarly decorated. This was all part of a general theme in which military elements were subverted ("reclaimed", said Van Noten), either ornamented or used as ornaments, or de- and re-constructed. Coat top, skirt bottom, for instance. In that spirit, Wes Wilson's graphics were applied to what looked like army surplus pieces, just, in fact, as they probably would have been back on the Haight, the San Franciscan epicentre of the original Summer of Love. "The Peacock Peacenik" was the designer's tag for the effect. Pair it with Valentino's show last night and you'd be within rights to assume that peace, love and understanding are fashion's new way forward.

Van Noten has the deep reservoir of his own past to draw on, and he revisited it persuasively. The oversized 1940s-style suits were a reminder that, of all the designers who ever drew inspiration from David Bowie, his fandom was the most convincing. The dandyism of decorative bullion, art nouveau patterns and faux fur collars was a typically incongruous partner for the aggressive MA-1-style butchness of Ray Petri’s Buffalo style from the 1980s (“One of my eternal inspirations,” Van Noten said.) Dream or reality? It was increasingly impossible to separate the two. But when you’re parked on the stage of the most glorious theatre in the world, why would you even want to try?