STYLE: HAUTE AND GLORY

Would The New Boys Live Up To The Hype? Would The Old Hands Come Up Trumps? Susannah Frankel Reports From The Paris Couture Collections. Right, Nicola Moulton, Winner Of The Jackie Moore Award For Fashion Journalism, Pays A First Visit Tothe Shows
IF, FOR FASHION editors, the haute couture collections, which take place each January and July, used to be a case of sitting back and watching beautiful, impossibly expensive clothes in which no one, apart from the insider, was even remotely interested, this season it's been quite a different story. Press attendance figures are higher than ever and the excitement surrounding the appointments of John Galliano to Christian Dior and Alexander McQueen to Givenchy have meant frocks making the front pages of the broadsheets perhaps for the first time in fashion history.
The question then must be: could Galliano and McQueen live up to the hype?  Certainly, in Galliano's case, the answer is a resounding yes. The supremely talented 37-year-old, who struggled for over a decade even to stay in business, has, it seems, found his spiritual home. In the opulent salons of the Grand Hotel - all glittering chandeliers, gilt-edged, overstuffed upholstery and elaborate stucco ceilings - models stalked, sashayed and twirled only inches away from spell-bound spectators.
As well as the breathtakingly beautiful bias-cut slip dresses for which Galliano is famous - for his Dior couture collection, he indulged himself in the luxury of gathering shoulders and waistlines into clusters of delicate chiffon roses - there were overblown, fondant-coloured ballgowns, a direct reference to the late and great Dior himself.
As if revelling in the sheer beauty of the precious materials on which he is now able to lay his hands, Galliano gathered inspiration everywhere from the Orient (silk, fringed shawls in chartreuse and deep red, knotted and embroidered with Chinese flowers) to Africa (corsets constructed out of rainbow-coloured beads, elaborate breastplates and arms full of ethnic bracelets). For daywear, Dior's signature houndstooth check graced the most modern, softly tailored skirt suits and androgynous trouser suits, the latter complete with fringing - a Galliano flourish if ever there was one.
Alexander McQueen's show for Givenchy went for inspiration to the classically inspired white and gold Givenchy logo. Almost the entire collection was made up in these colours, from signature, strictly tailored high-collared jackets and feathered corsets to impeccably cut double-breasted trouser suits which looked classic from the front but revealed the loveliest cut-out panels of gold lace or flesh tulle from behind. Also exquisite were silver and gold nymph dresses knotted around the body and trailing prettily behind, with their own tiny, perfectly formed wings. The craftsmanship in all-in-one feathered catsuits and strapless dresses was second to none, and fitted dresses in bright white damask boasted brilliant McQueenisms, including exaggerated full sleeves and oversized cuffs. For evening, gold strands of ivy spiralled prettily around softly structured white dresses. As if to hammer the classical message home, the styling of the show was, equally, pure ancient Greece and, in the end, something of a distraction from the often discreet luxury of the clothes.
Alexander McQueen is a far less experienced designer than John Galliano and, in this case in particular, it would have been almost impossible to live up to that which was expected of him. The show was, nonetheless, highly accomplished and the designer will doubtless continue to go from strength to strength.
Jean Paul Gaultier, invited on to the couture schedule for the first time this season, demonstrated the most modern of sensibilities, showing not only haute couture for women, but also for men.  Gaultier has always been famous for playing with gender. To this end, the women came out in supremely desirable navy tuxedos, while the men sported jewel-encrusted jeans and lace all-in-ones (one model even had lace tattoos stuck to his fashionably shaved head). Also a show-stopper were black crepe catsuits for women with draped backs, plunging necklines and, in one particularly spectacular instance, rainbow-coloured feathers.
The only criticism levelled at this very chic show was that it was so pared down in places, it hardly figured as haute couture. Gaultier's office confirmed that the collection would indeed come in slightly cheaper than customary couture prices.
Gianni Versace's couture show, meanwhile, had a lightness of touch not normally associated with the glitterati's favourite designer. From the opening sequence of narrow navy tailoring to the traditional wedding dress finale - here in the form of the tightest, white, high-waisted skirt that fell to just below the knee and was paired up with a white masculine shirt in a filmy, feminine fabric - the show was surprisingly restrained and looked highly contemporary for it. Carmen Miranda dresses in scarlet lace were wonderfully glamorous and pretty antique-style, short -sleeved cardigans in pastel colours, decorated with rhinestones and worn over layered, floral-print chiffon dresses, made for one of the prettiest looks of the season. All very London girl too. This was Portobello Road at its most madly expensive.
The show's only weak point came in the form of evening dresses in metallic organza. A surprisingly ungainly fabric for an experienced couturier to choose - it crinkled not entirely gracefully to the floor.
And finally to the House of Chanel, presided over, of course, by the mighty Karl Lagerfeld who last month brought into the fold Amanda Harlech, Galliano's creative right-hand woman and muse for over 10 years. After the week's hitherto spectacular showings, more traditional onlookers were relieved to see couture restored to its intimate and exclusive heritage. As always, Lagerfeld's immaculate black, navy or houndstooth jackets, teamed up with narrow skirts or wide-legged pants, went down a storm. Chalk tweed jackets trimmed with navy, red and white braid will also no doubt sell like hot cakes.
More show-stopping, but less successful for it, were sheer tweed trouser suits trimmed with vulture feathers, if you please, or the same suit in pink marabou. For evening, there were exquisitely worked silver and gold beaded creations and pastel chiffon dresses made of far too many intricately woven panels to count.
In the end, the show was at its best when it was at its most understated.  Skinny, black skirt suits fastened at the waist with a single diamond camellia were sheer perfection. 'They're real diamonds, latex jeans, you know,' whispered an excitable, Chanel-clad grande dame in auspicious attendance. Mais bien sur! This is haute couture, after all. Who on earth would expect anything less?