RUE DU FAUBOURG ST. HONORE. VIA DEL CORSO. MADISON AVENUE.

Huidevettersstraat. Pardon? The chic Antwerp street with the unwieldy name rarely strikes a bell with even the most devoted readers of Vogue. But the Huidevettersstraat is poised to gain greater recognition on the fashion map. The street lies at the center of the exclusive Meir shopping district in Belgium's bustling port city, now increasingly recognized for having more than its fair share of style sense and designer flair.

During the past years, Antwerp, home to breweries and sugar refineries, has churned out a cadre of talented designers who, like Calvin Klein and Jil Sander before them, understood the value of simplicity long before the rest of the fashion universe caught up. Designers like Dries van Noten, Ann Demeulemeester, Martin Margiela and Marcel Gruyaert of Anvers (Antwerp in Flemish) have had a huge following in Belgium for the past few years, but now they are finding devotees worldwide, filling the racks of swank shops in Paris and New York City and forging a distinctive Belgian style.

That look is marked by a penchant for spare lines, dark color palettes and sexy, interesting fabrics, such as jersey and silk knits. The outra and retro references that have overtaken so much of fashion in recent seasons are virtually nonexistent in the collections of these lean designers. Instead you will find sleek suits, butter-soft leathers and muted satins--clothes that are wearably attractive. "I like to make nice little shapes, and that's it," says Van Noten, who presides over every aspect of his 10-year-old business from design to marketing and public relations and whose clothes are now available in more than 500 large stores and boutiques around the world, including 160 in Japan alone. "We Belgians are very practical. Clothes have to be very direct. People are a little fed up with fashion and designers' rules--they don't like that anymore. They just want a nice shirt."

Van Noten, Demeulemeester, Margiela and Gruyaert all studied at Antwerp's Royal Academy of Arts, where their taste for minimalism was coupled with an aversion to the fashion industry's self-aggrandizing self-consciousness. When the group studied together during the '80s, "fashion became serious," notes Van Noten. "And it is not really something to be taken that seriously." Certainly no one could accuse the Belgians of publicity mongering. Demeulemeester rarely speaks to the press; Margiela refuses to be photographed.

They let their clothes speak for themselves. And for the most part the clothes convey an elegant hipness. In his latest collection, Van Noten offered sheaths in quiet, never dowdy prints and suit jackets whimsically buttoned on the diagonal. Demeulemeester paraded cold, chic mod cuts in her fall collection, while Anvers served up rich, pony-skin minis.

Margiela, who worked for Jean-Paul Gaultier before launching his own collection in 1988, bears the least similarity to his peers. His unconstructed shirts and skirts often use recycled fabrics and display outward stitching. His clothes never carry a label. "When we first started out in 1988, it was the biggest moment for labels," he explains. "I want people who don't know who made one of my garments to first say this is nice, then the salesperson can tell them who made it. If you see something in the cloakroom in a restaurant, then you will never know who it's by, but I don't care."

Talk softly, and carry off a big sense of chic: call it Belgium's fashion diplomacy for the '90s. The rest of the world is listening.

--By Ginia Bellafante. Reported by Dorie Denbigh/Paris