I lost track of the number of cars. I lost track of the number of sparkly fringed leather chaps. I lost track of the number of butts hanging out.

About a third of the way through the Dsquared2 fashion show in Milan on Tuesday evening, I lost my ability to keep track of anything. This event, celebrating the company’s 30th anniversary, was a fashion show whose sheer fashion showiness left me unable to form coherent thoughts.

Where to begin? Perhaps with the D.J. situated inside a giant disco ball or the Dsquared2-dressed cheering section flanking the runway. Or perhaps the brick facade backdrop, which I took as some sort of homage to “West Side Story,” but which a street sign helpfully informed me was actually “Fashion Avenue.” My mistake.

My thoughts of “Wait, what am I witnessing?” grew as I watched the rapper NLE Choppa fling his puffer toward the audience and a model on roller skates do a death drop. A woman came out with a bow tie affixed to her backside like a capsized Chippendales costume; another’s dress was slit up the side, leaving not a thing to the imagination. Tyson Beckford went by. Then Irina Shayk. Then Alex Consani, Amelia Gray Hamlin, Naomi Campbell.

There came a pair of male models in leather boots, pants and flat caps — pure Tom of Finland drag. A model exited a New York City taxi cab; another, a pickup; a third rolled in on the hood of a convertible. I started to worry about carbon monoxide poisoning.

Out came a fur hat the size of a mini-fridge and a leather thong so abbreviated that it was essentially a belt. Pants sat so low that butt cracks became banal. A gold pastie protected a model from a wardrobe malfunction.