Forget the Jean-Paul Gaultier costumes for The Fifth Element. Alexander McQueen's show in Paris today was a spacey sci-fi extravaganza of garments for royal ladies lost in the space-time continuum.

The runway looked like scene cut from an invasion film.

This silhouette doesn't say "Take me to your leader." It says: "You've been conquered by a higher lifeform. Get with the program."

In space, no one can hear you scream. About your snapped ankle.


Take away the shoes and the hair and you've got a really interesting, utterly new-feeling dress.

For devotees of H.R. Giger.


The exaggerated waist becomes almost insect-like, but in the right situation, this is a rockin' cocktail dress.

Betcha Björk has her eye on this one.


Correct me if I am wrong, but the print on this appears to be some kind of body scan or imaging. Of entrails and such. It should be disgusting but I'm finding it awesome.

McQueen is known for his precise and exquisite tailoring.


I spy moth wings.

There's a disturbance in The Force, and it is her blouse.


I'd be lying if I said the nipped-in waist and hip padding didn't make me smile.

As the captain of the spaceship, XalaK is not to be fucked with. Her fingernails are actually razors.


"Just because we're from another planet doesn't mean we don't want go out dancing. We like to party. Hard."


The man, the myth, the legend.

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