At Manish Arora, the mood was festive; rows 1-3 were offered little Dixie cups of pomegranate juice, with attendees' names calligraphed on them in neon puffy pen. The ushers, who were robots, wore hot-pink dishwashing gloves to hand out the drinks, whispering softly, "It's dosed. It's dosed. It's dosed." Their voices were Autotuned. By the time the rush of silently intrigued fashion editors and Paris It Girls reached our fancily appointed seats, we were giggling, the reflection from the lights fracturing prisms into our vision.

Just kidding, I am writing about this show via the timeworn tradition of looking at photos on the internet. But like, look at these clothes, just look at them. Plenty of designers are trying to interpret some vague notion of "The Future" but their presentations have often been cynical, detached, cold. Manish Arora, the New Delhi-based designer who presented in Paris today, is clearly more optimistic about his sci-fi vision, presenting some kind of galactic pastry rave populated by space princesses in iridescent bike shorts with fanny packs and camel toes. SON!!!!

Some of the best pieces were sheer, gauzy dresses emblazoned with party-dayglo interpretations of the Hindu deity Kali, the fierce goddess of change and endings. Arora's apocalyptic shift certainly sees women taking over the universe, ruling with power and grace and light and hologramic silver platform cut-out boots. Also yo, sequined swim cap helmets that transform your skull into the shape of a grey alien's!

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Paris Fashion Week is carrying on for like six more days, I guess, but as far as I'm concerned Arora just shut that shit down. Everyone's doing ravewear these days, too (Marc by Marc S/S 2015 hi), but this is the first thing that seems truly inspired by, but not siphoning from. You might hate it, but you cannot deny Arora's confidence in his vision. Come Springtime, catch me in the club, freaking out your roll with a giant neon 3D eye on my boobs.

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Images via Getty.