THE NEW KID IN TOWN

By MARTHA DUFFY/PARIS

IN RECENT YEARS THE FANfare that precedes a Paris couture season has consisted mainly of statements from fashion eminences dourly predicting the early demise of the wildly expensive handmade-to-order business. Why then were the spring openings so vibrant, so full of beauty, craft and rich detail? At Chanel, Karl Lagerfeld outdid himself with a masterly display of chic invention and exquisite attention to fit; the pick of the supermodel pack were on hand, and they never looked prettier. At Dior, Gianfranco Ferre chose a theme of flowers--surely an invitation to cliche--and turned out a collection with lightness and youthful charm. Christian Lacroix produced a rhapsodic meditation on the skirt, recasting his famous pouf, draped rather than puffed. His was the loveliest collection in Paris.

What put these established couturiers on their mettle was the arrival of a rank newcomer, British ready-to-wear designer John Galliano, 35, who took over last November as boss at Givenchy. Galliano posed a threat on a few fronts. Unlike most couturiers, he is a genuinely colorful character, a camera's darling who changes his entire appearance a couple of times a year. His fashion reputation is based on his rampant inspiration, his romps through costume history that turn archives into seductive, in-your-face clothes. His specialty is the slinky, tricky, bias-cut dress (cut across the grain of the fabric), which is the design of choice for movie stars--or anyone who wants to flaunt a shapely figure. Galliano was chosen to revitalize Givenchy by Bernard Arnault, president of LVMH, which owns not only that house but also Lacroix and Dior. It was time, Arnault had decided, to put Hubert de Givenchy out to pasture. The aristocratic designer ran an admirable house for 43 years, and in dressing Audrey Hepburn he gave the world one of its great fashion icons. But Arnault wanted a radical update. His move was not popular, yet Arnault is given credit even by his detractors for being a true believer in couture, traditionally considered the prestige leader that drives sales of perfume and licensed paraphernalia.

The couture establishment has had contradictory expectations for Galliano: he is seen on one hand as the man who would lead luxe into the 21st century and on the other as a misfit who could never measure up to exalted French standards. Last week's collection indicated strongly that Galliano belongs right where he is, but it was also uneven, the work of someone still learning a new game. The headliners were huge ball gowns, several of them striped in muted colors. Those who expected him to trash Givenchy's history were wrong. Among daytime clothes were several homages to the old master: suits with belted jackets, one charming dress with little bows on the four pockets. Galliano even co-opted Audrey Hepburn, naming a sleek, black gown for her.

At 50 outfits, the collection seemed meager (Lagerfeld produced 84). Perhaps Galliano is simply a rigorous editor, but the kind of exhilarating riffs that Saint Laurent and Lagerfeld can spin out--six or eight variations on a theme--were missing. Least satisfactory was a foray into blatant color for evening. Harsh chartreuse-green silk spoiled a group of prettily shaped party dresses. Deep orange costumes suggesting India were more effective, but does one go to Paris for a sari?

Arnault hired Galliano not for his wit or precocity but to make money for the house. And the profits in this enterprise come not from the glories of couture (despite price tags that average $25,000) but from the practicalities of pret-a-porter. In that sense, it looks as if Arnault clearly backed a winner. A glance at Galliano's first ready-to-wear, to be shown in March, is an eye-opener. Vanished are the grand effects and jokes. The line is simple, spunky, very young and very wearable. Only his names for the outfits are facetious: "Audrey in her boyfriend's clothes" and "Audrey in Disneyland."

But Galliano did not come to Givenchy to conquer the world of ready-to-wear. He already has a thriving business in that area under his own label. His purpose was to enter the world of dreams. Two days after the show, exhausted by media queries and the effusions of buyers, he left work early. Too bad, because late that afternoon a dream came walking into the atelier. Stephanie Bismuth is just 20, a tall, tanned woman with huge brown eyes and long, lustrous, dark red hair. This young Parisienne will be married in May, and she knows what she wants to wear: a sumptuous, bouffant Galliano gown with a border of floral embroidery that is lyrical enchantment. Bismuth came in wearing pants and a jacket and chewing gum--a typical '90s kid. When she put on the gown, she became a young woman with elegance, grace and just a hint of command, the transformation precisely what couture is all about. As for Galliano, her reason for choosing him shows the wisdom behind Bernard Arnault's choice: "I wanted something really young, and Galliano is so youthful."