God made Woman from Adam's rib. Christopher Kane, not being a major adherent to the sanctified status quo, flipped the formula for his new men's collection. He took the rib from his womenswear. The roughed-up prints, the flowers, the floral-painted twinsets scarcely reeked of testosterone, but it was a mark of Kane's astuteness that he knows why a guy would be drawn to his clothes. Oh yes, he revisited the tracksuit, icon of the hardscrabble council estates in Kane's hometown of Glasgow. Oh yes, there were ass-kicking Chelsea boots with zings of fluoro. There were jeans, too, because that collaboration with J Brand denim is sailing along nicely. But in the end, it was Kane's sly, languid subversion of boot-kicking butchness that lingered longest in the mind.
