Monday, Aug. 15, 1938

Autumn in Paris

The art of designing beautiful clothes for women is no longer exclusive with a dozen dressmakers in Paris. During the past year U. S. designers have been well publicized, and a notion has got abroad that Paris is losing initiative in setting fashions. Downright U. S. citizens who rather hoped so were thoroughly disabused last week when U. S. buyers and wholesalers flocked into Paris like homing birds for Fashion's greatest circus : the annual autumn openings of the great couturiers.

It was the hottest week of the summer.

Mannequins fainted under furs.

"Fashion news," that melange of contradictions and bug-eyed naivetes, made sense to nobody, will make sense only as weeks go by and a certain number of the high-priced creations, paraded last week, begin to appear, in copies, on millions of U. S. women. A few broad trends were seen, however, by practiced observers. At the end of the week unofficial tabulations revealed that the skirt, so far as length was concerned, was precisely where the summer left it -- 13 1/2 to 15 1/2 in. from the ground. But full skirts, ranging from a gentle flare for daytime to romantic yard age for evening, were common, and observers who have watched this trend develop for several seasons conceded that this autumn it would probably be the rage.

Newer but not likely to become a fashion for another season or so was the "tubular" skirt with a slight flare at the knees.

Old hands at the Paris openings remarked a chastening of the fantastic extremes which make newspaper copy and which nobody ever wears. Most couturiers offered clothes that were flattering but wearable. Declaring that she aimed "to clothe rather than astonish," Designer Gabrielle Chanel stole a march on her fellow big shots by opening a full weekend ahead of them, capitalizing on her noted simplicity. Near the centre line of fashion were oldtimer Chanel's wool frocks with ruffles at wrist and neck, forward or "profiled" berets, dark velvet afternoon and dinner dresses, strapless evening gowns.

Gay and rakish as usual were the productions of Elsa Schiaparelli, who supposedly designs in silhouettes with paper and shears. Her best ideas: new "doll" hats suggesting birds' nests, in fur; high-buttoned colored kid boots; tiny electric lights on handbags and ornaments. Schiaparelli's opposites, Vionnet and Alix, who pay heed to anatomy and do their designing on models, showed finely draped and molded dresses. The derivative-exotic appeared in the collections of Molyneux, who used vaguely Oriental touches, Lanvin, who offered Persian toques and flares, and Paquin, whose long, slim, golden gowns suggested the Chinese.

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