Thinking Shorter

Missing: Genu (L.), an anatomical region commonly known as the knee; still extant figuratively in the kitchen, as in "housewife's _______," and in the movie house, as in Claire's _______; also still virile verbally in compounds like " _______ jerk " and " _______deep " and in relating measurement, as in "_______ -high to a grasshopper"; but generally not seen in the flesh since around 1970, when it was flaunted by trend-trippers from Carnaby Street to cannery row.

The knee is missing no longer. It popped into view again at the spring ready-to-wear fashion shows in Paris as a flock of designers hiked the hemlines on at least some of their clothes. Women's Wear Daily promptly trumpeted the return of the mini. In fact, it is not. Skirt lengths, like their wearers, will continue to come in all altitudes. Neither do the new, higher-hemmed styles resemble the thigh-flashers of the hip-hugging mini revolution. Perhaps reacting to Paris' long, sizzling summer, the designers of the new short look have genu- flected toward comfort, stressing coolness, looseness, flounce.

The designer leading the way is Japanese-born Kenzo Takada, 37. In his winter collection shown last April, Kenzo, as he calls himself, experimented with long, blousy sweaters meant to be worn over tights or leg warmers. Growing bolder this season, he has whipped up short gathered skirts topped with floral-print smocks. The motif is Tahitian-Polynesian, and Kenzo tops it off with aloha leis.

Handkerchief Points. Playfulness is the spirit for nearly all the Paris pack. Pierre Cardin's minis are hooked up at the shoulder like a toga or slide over the head, poncho fashion. His hemlines dip gracefully into handkerchief points. Emanuel Ungaro's Moroccan striped minidresses are bloused at the hips with yarn belts and designed to be worn over red or green tights. Karl Lagerfeld's silk versions for Chloe look like babydolls without the bottoms.

Fashion buyers and critics have not yet figured out what to make of it all. Geraldine Stutz, president of Manhattan's Henri Bendel, shakes her head and says: "We're not ready for this." Gina Fratini, a London designer who turned out high-priced miniskirts in the '60s, concedes this time around: "It's unreal. Lots of people can't wear minis." Bernard Ozer of Associated Merchandising Corp. of New York insists: "At most, it will appeal to trendy young girls going to discotheques. No woman is willing these days to convert a wardrobe from one style to another." Or get down on her knees--covered or not--to Paris.

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