There’s something almost eerie about these images, from Alexander McQueen‘s final collection — the collection he was working on when he decided to take his own life.

Forgoing the spectacle of a runway show, McQueen’s label — which will function without him — invited small groups of editors to view the collection in a quiet Paris salon.

In the hushed, gilded room — a remnant of another, more beautiful era — the frocks, too, seemed frozen in time, museum pieces to be preserved as mementos of a passed time. Certainly, it was the best way to show these works — queenly gowns, which seemed to have a certain removed grace about them — as though their wearers would never deign to parade about in them, but would instead receive spectators who’d crawl toward their trains on their hands and knees, begging forgiveness.

These sumptuous, baubled gowns did more than just present a tired notion of royal garb. Artworks by Hieronymus Bosch, Jean Fouquet, Sandro Boticelli, Stephan Lochner, Hans Memling, and Hugo van der Goes were digitally captured to be transferred onto the red, gold and silver dresses. And even feathers weren’t ornate enough for this collection. McQueen’s staff gilded each in the collection’s last gown with gold leaf.

A gilded feather — as of a canary trapped in a golden cage? The dresses speak for themselves: