Earlier this week, the designer quietly dropped his final collection based on his greatest hits.

Words by Tara Gonzalez

It’s hard to find traces of Tom Ford’s first Tom Ford show online. It took place in 2010, six years after people cried at his final show for Gucci, in the eponymous brand’s first store on Madison Avenue. The 100 invitees were seated on gold chairs, crammed into a space so small the models—a cast of “many of the world’s most inspirational women,” as he announced himself via microphone before they walked down the runway—brushed against the attendees’ knees. There was Laura Hutton, Gigi Hadid, Beyoncé, and Julianne Moore, wearing thigh-high lace boots, unbuttoned silk blouses, animal print, and black stockings. No phones were allowed, and only Terry Richardson had permission to take photographs. Richardson had not yet been canceled. Instagram did not yet exist. Ford told Vogue, “I do not understand everyone’s need to see everything online the day after a show.”

So, it did not feel very Tom Ford when Tom Ford released his final Tom Ford collection with a series of videos that appeared in social media feeds and inboxes. The press statement that followed was the same as the captions posted online, just four sentences long. Here are the first two: “In 2010, Tom Ford launched his first womenswear collection. Today, more than a decade later, for his final collection, he pays homage to the Tom Ford woman with limited re-editions of his best-known iconic signature looks.” I had to read it twice to make sure I read it right. This was goodbye? It felt extremely subtle for someone who has made his name eschewing subtlety.

The videos were shot in a long cement hallway lit by dim blue lights. Standing in three large glass displays reminiscent of exhibits at history museums were models like Joan Smalls, Amber Valetta and Karlie Kloss, squirming and strutting in their encasements. Tom Ford stood outside, peering in at his creations, flicking his wrists like a maestro as their faces pressed against the glass. The looks they wore were archival designs of Ford’s greatest hits: a hot pink breastplate top, a tiny sequinned mini with shimmering pasties, a white flared pantsuit with a large pussy bow blouse.

The feminine sensual strength Mr. Ford is known for was on display. In the final clip, Karen Elson sings, Valletta breaks down into tears, Kloss strokes her chest, and Joan Small smashes the camera, knocking everyone out of view. They were all dressed in black, with plenty of skin peeking through swaths of lace, and velvet, the only way to look quite right for a Ford funeral. But still, it felt less firm and final than death.

Ever since the brand’s sale to Estée Lauder for almost $3 billion this past November, questions have swirled over Ford’s future. The videos answered them, but only partially. Nearly every headline about this “final collection” was posed as a question: Was this really it? His rumored successor, Peter Hawkings, the longtime men’s wear designer for the brand, was announced officially today.

Tom Ford’s own line never quite reached the mythological status of his Gucci or Yves Saint Laurent eras. If anything, Tom Ford, the brand, felt like a love letter to the very best pieces of each, spritzed with his famous tobacco vanilla fragrance. In recent years, Tom Ford’s name sold more beauty than anything, probably because he was the only designer who could really bottle the promise of seduction. His name combines a top 10 baby name from the 1950s with an unglamorous car brand and yet it still rolls off people’s tongues like the word sex itself.

And while it doesn’t feel right that the same creative director who took his final bow in front of a crying audience at Gucci while being showered with rose petals would choose such a quiet exit this time around, it does seem cinematic that he directed his final scene leaving people wanting more. After all, Mr. Ford is solely a filmmaker now.

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All images courtesy Tom Ford.

This article originally appeared on harpersbazaar.com