You couldn’t fault the irony of Riccardo Tisci’s show invitation. A life-size, fully functional fold-out deck chair, it was the perfect seat in which to lean back and take in the strictly digital runway format that shaped his first standalone men’s show for Burberry. Last month, a survey found that 40% of Londoners are considering moving to the countryside when the pandemic is over. It tells you something about the cabin fever hitting the city segment—normally so self-satisfied—at this stage in the U.K.’s tough lockdown.

“With everyone being sick, at one point I thought, This is like a war,” Tisci said on a video call before the show went live. “Talking to my mum and other people who’ve lived through war, they were having the same emotions. So, I thought, What did people do after the wars? I found out that, around the world, the young generations moved to the countryside, to forests and beaches, where they could feel free. In spaces with no buildings, they could see reality. In these places, they built their own universes inspired by the animal world.”

Picking up where his pre-collection left off, Tisci delved into the wild in a liberal interpretation of the British country look. A style tradition steeped in dress codes, it’s a proudly scratchy and intentionally muddy wardrobe with which few dare to mess. But, Tisci said, “The Britishness everybody always talks about is an attitude: a way to not be scared of things. That, to me, is very British. I learned tailoring in England, but I also learned the freedom of English style here.” So he proposed an outdoor wardrobe for what he called a new era of freedom.

In this alternate-heritage universe, the trench coat that opened the show was rendered in soft beige wool, and when it turned around, its back was defiantly chopped off and hybridized with a blouson. The piped lapels of a suit jacket imitated the way those of outerwear sometimes overlap, while neat suit trousers had large square performance pockets attached to the sides. The vests of the hunting wardrobe morphed into big faux-fur gilets, and the hood of a furry coat had bunny ears on it, echoed in knitted beanie hats. This was a no-gun zone.

Tisci was speaking from the Burberry flagship store on Regent Street, which didn’t just host the show but also framed its conception. In the early 20th century, the space was an art gallery for the Arts and Crafts movements of the time, whose postindustrial nature-centricity conveniently reflected Tisci’s post-pandemic mindset. “I would say chic outdoorwear luxury, but in a Peter Pan way: a human relation with the animal world,” he said, describing the collection.

The historical reference imbued the garments with touches of frills and flags and animal motifs that read like the repurposed findings of a spiritual nature cult—very apropos Tisci’s idea of urbanites who create their own societies in the country. “I like clothes very precise, but even I am starting to relax. I think we all want to live in a different way. I go to work in sandals and socks in the winter. I feel I’m very comfortable,” he said.

The collection was at its most comfortable when Tisci applied his theme to garments that looked most purely Tisci. Case in point: look 18’s all-black languid lines expressed in a lightweight kilt, a tight black shirt, a slender black coat with frills, and a fetish-y, shiny second-skin thigh-high boot with a hint of a split toe. “I’m sure after all this finishes it’s going to be amazing…for music, for arts, for fashion,” he said. “We want to find a new freedom. For the last two decades, we’ve all been focused on numbers and money. Now, we want to live life.”