As this century draws to a close, fashion has become a pretty confused - and confusing - business. In London last week, the signals being sent out for spring/summer 1999 were more often conflicting than complementary with women being offered a diverse range of styles bearing little relation to each other. The choice veered from the simplest of cropped trousers with a fine-gauge knitted vest to exquisitely tailored and dyed leather jackets trimmed with fur; should there be even a suggestion of warm weather next year, then the former is likely to be the more popular option. Tempting though it is to hold designers responsible for this state of confusion, other forces are also to blame, not least the transition of fashion during the present decade into a branch of the entertainment industry. Collections are now primarily a form of publicity, which is why so much of what turns up in shows will probably not be sold to the consumer.
There is an unresolved, and largely unacknowledged, dispute at the heart of fashion between commercial and creative forces. The market drives the clothes industry and forces it to compromise in ways not expected of other art forms. That fashion can sometimes be a wonderfully inspiring display of imagination and ingenuity ought never to be doubted. Unfortunately, even the most talented of designers also needs commercial success and, among other disadvantages, this leads to the frenzied search for novelty now seen every season in London. One aspect of this cult of the new is a corresponding adulation of youth in British designers. It seems barely credible but Alexander McQueen, the reigning star of London fashion, is just 29, with Hussein Chalayan a year younger. Antonio Berardi is another key figure in British fashion still in his 20s, along with Owen Gaster and a number of last week's other most enthusiastically supported names such as Tristan Webber, Julien MacDonald, Anthony Symonds and Matthew Wiiliamson.
All of these designers are exceptionally skilled technicians, but too often their shows proved to be little more than an opportunity to show off ability at the expense of anything else. Of what use is a basketwoven corset or a crystal-covered cube worn over the head? That such items can be made is insufficient justification for their manufacture. That they may overshadow what should really be the focus of attention is also a too-often realised risk.
Typical in this respect was Alexander McQueen, whose new collection revealed a hitherto-unseen ability to drape fabric in a deft and seductive manner. However, what caught the eye in this show were the specially-carved wooden legs worn by Aimee Mullins - who lost her own pair of limbs from the knee down in early childhood - and the sight of model Shalom Harlow being bespattered with paint from two car-spraying machines.
Leaving aside such attention-grabbing antics, there were some typical McQueen pieces and some new ones. Among the familiar: sharp-edged trouser suits, the cutaway jackets styled in the manner of those worn by French Revolutionary incroyables, the pants slashed up to the knee to reveal tiered lace. But there were silver-grey tunics of silk jersey too, and dresses in georgette, as well as tiered ruffles and embroidered halternecks. This was a softer, more mellow McQueen than previously seen and, for many in the audience, his best collection to date. The other indisputable success of London was Hussein Chalayan, a designer who has tended in recent seasons to be unfairly overshadowed by some of his flashier colleagues. Chalayan seems to disdain showmanship, preferring a more cerebral approach to his work; his shows are quietly reflective events, even when, as on this occasion, they are accompanied by an a cappella choir. The clothes themselves were marvels of cut and fold, a meditation on function in which the designer played with traditional forms.
Typical in this respect were simple organza shifts on which the front was repeated in a succession of pleats, while other fineknit shifts were given two upper sections, the unworn one left to hang down the body. As with McQueen, there was a refreshing delicacy in Chalayan's approach, producing clothes which were spare yet distinctive. The sleeveless shift was his favoured form, examined repeatedly to produce subtle variations on the shape each time.
In contrast, white leather was the focus of Antonio Berardi's attention. This designer is turning into London's master of flash and last week he dazzled thanks to a collection filled with skin-tight breeches and bolero jackets, tiny box-pleated skirts, laceup corsets and multi-tiered skirts. But even here there were moments of calm, such as those produced by a sequence of semi-sheer fine cashmere dresses descending in graceful folds to the ground.
Immediately after the show, the consensus was that his latest collection looked like a job application displaying Berardi's broad range of talent and it would be no surprise were he to be announced as designer of an Italian fashion house in the near future. Should that occur, there would be even greater interest than now in who might next become London fashion's latest favourite designer. The competition grows steadily each successive season and among the aspirants last week were Anthony Symonds and Tristan Webber. Symonds, whose collection was subsequently stolen from his studios - definitely a 1990s trend - showed 1980s disco-inspired denim and bright-hued tropical prints coated in plastic.
Webber, of whom perhaps too much was expected, opted for showing what he could do with leather - mostly cut it into very small pieces, dye these into the most garish imaginable shades and then stitch the lot into skin-tight bolero jackets and dresses, regularly adding some dyed fur to the results. As an exercise in bravura tailoring, this was obviously impressive but a lighter hand - and a better understanding of summer weather - would have have served Webber better. In general the old hands were the light hands. Nicole Farhi and Paul Smith both showed easily wearable, intensely comfortable and confident collections which, in their understated manner, will win widespread consumer approval. But two other names are also worth mentioning briefly. As before, Owen Gaster demonstrated that he is a tailor with few rivals but spoiled this impression by showing the same ability again and again in a repetitive manner.
And among the week's debutantes, Tracy Mulligan - who used to be one half of duo Sonnentag Mulligan, served up a winning collection in which batwing sleeves - something of a minor trend for next spring/summer - sleeveless shifts and simple but sharp trouser suits stood out. They were shown without fireworks, orchestras, a cast of 1,000 extras or any other theatrical accompaniment and proved that good design needs nothing else to make its presence felt.
