ON THE CUTTING EDGE

By MARTHA DUFFY/LONDON

Paris fashion is nothing if not international. The last Frenchman to enter the big time was Christian Lacroix 10 years ago. The king of the industry is Chanel's Karl Lagerfeld, who is German. But the headlines are now being made by two young Englishmen: John Galliano, 36, and Alexander McQueen, just 27. A charming, egregiously talented pixie of a man, Galliano took over the house of Givenchy last year but has already moved on to preside over Christian Dior, considered--along with Chanel--the most important French fashion empire. McQueen, an East Ender previously unknown outside the trendier London precincts, was named to succeed his countryman at Givenchy.

The fashion world went into shock. Why not a top French designer like Jean-Paul Gaultier to assume the Givenchy mantle? Or if it had to be a foreigner, why not Vivienne Westwood, a more experienced Brit, who has shown in Paris for years and even troubled to study Dior's own output in detail? But Bernard Arnault, whose LVMH owns both Dior and Givenchy, is betting his money that the route to a younger market--the new, galvanizing image that has evaded the old couture houses in recent years--lies across the Channel. For if Galliano is famous for his sizzling sense of romance, McQueen delivers exquisite tailoring and "kick-arse clothes." And both newcomers pack an intangible in their sewing kits: they radiate a genius, confidence and eccentricity that make people think they are on the brink of reinventing fashion.

Call it the British spirit. In fashion, at least, London is reprising its swinging Carnaby Street days of 30 years ago. It may be that some of the duo's panache comes from being English. British culture is not hospitable to the zany, the innovative. It prefers solid, stout garments to high fashion, and Camilla is the paradigm, not Diana. So a young person seriously interested in a subversive field like fashion is likely to be highly rebellious.

But a more specific source of the delicious insouciance that both Galliano and McQueen display may be the alma mater they share: London's Central Saint Martins College of Art & Design. It is easily the hottest fashion school in the world, a magnet not only for would-be designers but also for established masters looking to pick up fresh talent for their ateliers. CSM is not the only prominent fashion academy; Britain is known for its tradition of craft and in general supports artisans. But other schools tend toward commercial and technical values, emphasizing the set of a sleeve or production expertise. CSM takes it easy on detail, preferring individuality. Of his time there, McQueen says it was "loverly mixing with people of the same persuasion."

Exactly so. The grubby classrooms and studios have a palpable esprit. The school sits in Soho, a hard-eating, hard-drinking area with plenty of counterculture and a large, artsy homosexual population. The place bubbles with creative activity--and has for decades. The singer Sade was a student in the '70s, and the first Sex Pistols concert was held there. Louise Wilson, head of the graduate program, says, "Lots of French designers come from good backgrounds, but here the likelihood is that kids are punk, with an emphasis on the street."

The young people at CSM consider themselves an elite (with good reason), and the faculty encourages them to question fashion's assumptions. Jason Masterton Copley, who is in his second year, won't budge an inch on his ideals: "I have spent a large part of my time being picky. I like the fact that the competition here is very stiff." He is also focused on a celebrated school tradition: the graduation show. It draws an international gathering of fashion powerhouses. Galliano's success began there, as did McQueen's; their offerings were swooped up by buyers or magazines. Copley has similar dreams: "I have my fingers crossed that someone will buy my clothes at the show."

Saint Martins is undergoing some growing pains. The fashion student body has risen from 250 to 550 since 1990. Not all the graduates can be represented in the show, and that is a bad blow to many. To stretch its faculty--and encourage the kids--the college calls back old grads, who work on a project basis. One is Bill Gayten, a cutter for Galliano. While novice tailors listen, he talks about the designer's famous bias-cut dresses, many of which he has worked on. Galliano demands toiles (patterns) not of traditional muslin but of the same fine fabric the gown will be made of, and will not look at a garment in progress unless it is on a live model. It's a long, painstaking, expensive process.

That is the nitty-gritty behind what is sold as glamour. Maybe the humbling demands of a beginner's job in fashion are one reason why so many young comers tend to show off. For instance, says Wendy Dagworthy, herself a designer and director of the undergraduate school: "McQueen was determined, and he was an excellent cutter. He loved shock tactics. Many of the students here do. They're trying to get noticed, but we tell them, 'Never design only for the catwalk.'"

Any follower of fashion shows knows that the kids don't always do what their teachers tell them to. Galliano's snowy roofs and jungle walks are haute theater. McQueen has been known to moon on the runway, and his collection featuring the infamous bumster, jeans designed to bare the bottom, caused a sensation. In his latest London outing, he sank his catwalk under a few inches of water. The models maneuvered well, but when he took his bow, the maestro looked like a cat on a hot tinny puddle.

How will all this go at Givenchy? There will be some sort of culture clash but, McQueen promises, "no bumsters." He believes the refinement of his tailoring makes him a worthy heir to Hubert de Givenchy: "The line of the body and the tailoring make it closer to what he was about, with his training with Balenciaga." As for the cost of couture, McQueen calls it just a fact of life. "If it requires 83 hours for a person to sit there beading a dress," he says, "that's it. Take it or leave it."

If McQueen sees himself as Givenchy's disciple, Galliano is wrapping himself in the tulle of Dior as "the designer I most respect in the 20th century. My own style is close to M. Dior's because of his romantic and hyperfeminine style." Each man has a point. The fashion industry hopes these newcomers will touch feminine fantasy the way the old masters did. But Galliano and McQueen also carry other legacies: the British spirit and the brash vitality of Central Saint Martins. That may work in their favor too.

--With reporting by Dorie Denbigh/Paris

With reporting by Dorie Denbigh/Paris