There was so much black outside the Couvent des Cordeliers that the rare flash of color—a red hat, a blue jacket—might as well have been a neon bolt of lightning. Such is the dress code of Ann Demeulemeester’s fan club. It was no different inside the vaulted gothic sanctuary as models channeled the kind of shadowy character you’d expect from an Edgar Allan Poe story—perhaps Roderick Usher, who lived in a bleak and crumbling manor. They stalked the runway clad in slim black vests, vampire capes, long coat tails, thick fur coats and long bathrobe-like sweaters left untied and billowing from under blazers like bistro aprons. The trousers were equestrian slouchy: tight at the calf, loose at the thigh and pulled back in at the waist with the cinch of a belt. But while black was the reigning color, the variety of textures—patent leather jackets, crushed velvet scarves, black feather boas—created a rich decadence reminiscent of a glammed up, rocked out Count Dracula.