PARIS–Some shows display clothes, others tell an entire story. Cacharel certainly achieved the latter: its show at the Palais de Tokyo took us from dawn to dusk, on a warm summer day.

Soft rays of light filled the room to the beats of “Chérie Chérie,” by electro band Suicide.

In what resembled an illuminated morning in July, the models wore oversized flesh ensembles, three quarter trousers, and long dresses. These elongated, flowy cuts–paired with round sunglasses–felt like a Parisian take on Annie Hall’s impeccable ’70s chic.

By midday, the demoiselles, like the light, became bolder: shorter cuts, bolder pinks flirting with neon tones. Slowly, bright limes, oranges and lemon tones infiltrated the stage.

By the afternoon, the sun rays slowly turned into a warmer orange, and spots of colors onto dresses filled the room: these referenced kimono folds and 1940s dresses. It seemed to suggest that, as the night approaches, Mademoiselle Cacharel knows how to be a lady too.

And by the evening, the room was ruby-tinted, and filled with models–shortly followed by Cedric Charlier, who blew kisses at the crowd as the sun was setting.

Today, Charlier is celebrating his first anniversary at Cacharel–after working for Céline and Lanvin, he was trusted to bring back to the French house its initial light: well-to-do femininity. “I think he was an excellent choice,” said Cacharel’s head of communication Laura Guillermin in an interview earlier this year, describing his designs as “structural, subtle, architectural pieces that elegantly accompany the movement.”

Was it a success? Sarah Lerfel, creative director of Colette, sat front row and clapped enthusiastically. In French code language, this means yes.