Living: When Paris Is Not Burning

Lacroix debuts, Miyake muses, fresh talent hides

It is quite possible that (plap) the fashion season of fall-winter 1988-89 (again, plap), still being presented this week in Paris, will be remembered less for design and more for sound effects: the dull, liquid thud (plap) made by the chins of dozens of the international fashion elite slumbering forward (plap) onto soft silk and welcoming cashmere (plap, plap) as models mosey down the runways in yet another sanguine incarnation of the new look. Ah, short skirts (plap), ah, mid-length skirts (plap), ah, pants are back (plap), ah, sleep.

Until Paris, went the chat among trade and press, the shows in...

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