The Bottom Line Calls for Magic

PARIS, Sept. 30

The fashion industry, not to be confused with the garment trade, is in the unfortunate position of manufacturing merchandise that many would argue is wholly unnecessary and, when a $10,000 blazer is strutted down a runway by a teenager, is morally offensive.

There is a strong argument against such a position, namely that beauty and artistry are never superfluous and that it is impossible to put a price tag on happiness. But to justify that more liberal position at a time when the U.S. economy is in a landslide and the global repercussions are unnerving, designers here have the challenge of creating clothes that speak of luxury and beauty in a time of cost-cutting and bankruptcies without being uncomfortably ostentatious or stultifyingly reserved.

Designers began work on their spring 2009 collections long before the economic crisis in the United States came to a head and Mr. McCain went to Washington and Mr. Obama called for calm. But warning signs abounded.

A wise designer would long ago have begun asking: What does luxury look like at a time when few people will likely want to be viewed as overtly extravagant? It's a question that puts pressure on any designer who has built a career creating simple little tank dresses and dainty bias-cut gowns, albeit in silk so fine and fragile that one might think the only way to clean them would be to have angels brush them gently with a cluster of golden wheat stalks.

The impressive output of mass marketers has made simplicity a dangerous course for designers of high-end merchandise. Few people are willing to pay hundreds of dollars for a T-shirt or thousands for a slip dress anymore. And there is a level of cynicism surrounding the fashion industry that has reached unprecedented levels.

Everyone with an interest in fashion now seems to feel he has the bona fides -- whatever they may be -- to offer a fashion critique. These self-appointed critics publish their opinions on their blogs, and they back up their analysis with the lessons they have learned by being loyal viewers of "Project Runway." So one can imagine that their judgment of John Galliano's collection for Christian Dior might be harsh. Not because it was bad, but because it lacked magic.

On Monday afternoon, he showed one frilly little mini-dress after another. His inspiration was "tribal chic," and he'd had the models' hair teased, piled high and molded like African baskets. He used puka shells and references to weaving as adornment to give the string of dresses a sense of cohesiveness. And he accessorized them with high sandals with animal print platforms and heels carved like totem poles. But ultimately, when you stripped all that Epcot styling away, you were left with cute flouncy dresses for which it's difficult to make an argument in these economic times.

There just wasn't enough there beyond a Christian Dior label -- as famous as that might be. "Magic" is the elusive, but indispensable, ingredient in fashion. People will buy magic; they'll pay ridiculous sums for it; they'll go into debt (if they can still get credit). They'll eat ramen noodles for a week in order to afford magic. A collection can be pretty and the models can evoke all sorts of swaggering sex appeal. But without the sense that you're witnessing something new or daring or naughty or unbelievable, all you've got is clothes. Which means that all you've got is a lot of stuff that no one needs and no one wants.

The closest thing to magic so far on the Paris runways arrived Tuesday morning at Balenciaga and Junya Watanabe. Neither accomplished it in that full-throated, yes-yes-Yes way, but both were supremely satisfying.

The collection from Watanabe was inspired by African textiles and nature. The show began with the sound of birds. No self-consciously discordant notes. No techno beat. The birds twittered until they were joined by drums and what sounded to Western ears like traditional African songs.

The first model on the runway wore a faded denim skirt with a multi-patterned blouse tied high around her waist to reveal her midriff. A bouquet of dried flowers poured from her head wrap. Mother Africa. Mother Nature. Mama Cool. The message was earthy, warm, comforting and bountiful.