For Vevers’ latest collection, familiar Coach codes appeared throughout, altered by the way things are worn, kept and remembered.

The opening look set the tone. An oversized charcoal, single-breasted pinstripe suit was styled with a miniskirt overlay and visible stitching that gave it a borrowed, almost vintage quality. Worn open without a shirt, it was accessorised with a pocket watch and crystal pendant, fastened to a leather cord and falling to the belly button.

Outerwear was turned inside out: trenches, blazers and overcoats used lining fabrics for their main body, finished with leather trim. Blazers tied around the waist offered a simple reworking of the familiar. The shoes looked lived in; boots and sneakers appeared worn, loved and marked. On some pairs, pink sequins were imperfectly placed, as though collected from the floor of a party.

The same attention extended to the sound design. John Grant’s “Marz” opened the show before the music gradually built towards celebration, with brief silences between tracks giving the room – and the clothes – space. “I do love the idea of a journey when you start in one place and end somewhere else. I also love when the sound drops out and you can give the room some space,” Vevers said. “I think it’s about being really obsessive actually. You have to really go into all the details and be really strong about what you want to achieve.”

Hair by Guido and makeup by Pat McGrath continued the sense of things being slightly undone. It was the kind of beauty that could have been put together in the dim light of an apartment bathroom before going out, or in the backseat of a car crossing town after work, using whatever was found at the bottom of a Tabby. Each model looked as though the clothes had come from their own wardrobe.

At 85, Coach isn’t particularly interested in looking back. Instead, Vevers took the items that have accumulated around the house – its clothes, its bags, New York and his own memories of it – and considered what they look like now.