There was a lot of black, white, and brown at Alice Roi, a lot of chunky knits of varying textures, some Japanese styling, some English-schoolgirl quirk, some Western elements, some distinctly spring-like dresses, and a general lack of focus or thought. Which is a drag, because Roi is so talented, and so reliably infuses her collections with a giddy, girly enthusiasm shot through with a healthy dose of teenage rebellion. Here, there were traces of that: the plaid skirts paired with delicate, pale tops, threads hanging from unfinished sleeves; slouchy black socks paired with white vinyl wedges; one ingenious dress that managed to look like two. But other than that, it seems like she flipped open the cell, dialed the number, and phoned it in.