Modern Living: The Retro Look

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Call it a revival, mark it down to a turn of fashion's wheel. The mannequins who strode, twirled and postured through Paris' haute couture salons last week in new spring and summer collections looked as if they had just stepped out of a Jean Harlow or Greta Garbo movie. Hemlines had dropped to midcalf; necklines plunged revealingly; clothes were flowingly full again. This evocation of what may have been couture's grandest era—from the mid-1920s to the late '30s—was not simply a salute to nostalgia. The designers seemed to be saying that high fashion belongs to those with a yearning for bygone elegance—and the means to afford some very up-to-date prices.

Gone from most salons was the sculptured, hard-edge look pioneered by Courreges, Cardin and Gernreich. No more tight minis. No plastic helmets or vinyl unisex jumpsuits. Instead, the emphasis is once again on the most basic of feminine garments: the dress. Liberated from the crisp, form-fitted lines of recent seasons, it now billows, ripples and flows. "I don't care if the biggest-selling thing in stores is pants," said Designer Oscar de la Renta, whose own new collection opened last week in New York. "The dress is in."

One key to the change lies in France's exquisite fabrics—luxuriant silk, crepe de chine, shantung, georgette, satin. These are meticulously cut and joined, often on the diagonal introduced in the 1920s by Madeleine Vionnet —who is inactive but still alert at 97. The "bias cut" makes clothes drape sexily against the body. Since the favored fabrics of 1974 are gossamer-thin and always unlined, they need, even demand ample length to prevent skirts from being unintentionally hoisted at the slightest breeze. The result is a calf-length skirt that is wider, freer and not quite as long as the ill-fated midi of 1970.

Eye to Provocation. The 1930s theme was echoed by every Paris couturier from Givenchy, Balmain, Scherrer and Lapidus to Dior, St. Laurent and Chanel. Marc Bohan, Dior's successor, set the early pace. His skirts were long and supple. His jackets, closed at the waist with a narrow belt, were full and casual. Evening dresses, as diaphanous as lingerie, hint of luxury—and bed.

Sexist? Surely; but also sexy—and elegant. Take Bohan's shirts, which were lavishly applauded by buyers and critics alike. Some of the most striking were deliberately provocative with deep, insouciant necklines or low square necks and thin shoulder straps. What to wear under these blouses? According to the designers, absolutely nothing.

Yves St. Laurent accented femininity even in suits tailored in men's checkered or pin-stripe fabrics. They are worn with print, tie-neck, full blouses that ease into soft yokes in back and bands at wrist or elbow. St. Laurent's beloved tunic reappeared, belted over wide pants or pleated skirts. For daytime dresses, he used every sort of pleat—box, inverted, knife, flat, broad—to gain an almost subliminal, flickering effect.