amazon grace; In steamy So Paulo, Hamish Bowles writes, the impossibly luxe boutique Daslu is more than just a store-it's a way of life.

Byline: Hamish Bowles

So Paulo is an extraordinary city," pronounces Brazilophile actor Rupert Everett. "It's like all worlds in one-with Daslu as its White House!"

A greige stucco neo_classical palazzo that resembles the Getty Villa on steroids-complete with a spa, three restaurants, coffee stations, and a jade velvet champagne bar-Daslu reopened last year with a flurry of celebrations.

never economize on luxury, reads a cushion in the linen boutique; it might be Daslu's own motto. Best-dressed, uber-

groomed ladies from all across Brazil come by limo or helicopter and present their black Daslu V.I.P. cards at the door. Stone mastiffs are stationed at strategic points throughout the store, their collars bearing the label men not allowed. Room after room, the clothes are organized by color, with matching accessories ranged nearby-all in a huge range of sizes, to avoid stockroom runs. The women literally undress there and then: The only changing rooms here are in the bikini corridor.

Although So Paulo winter is "four weeks maximum," according to Daslu's owner, Eliana Tranchesi-a warm, voluptuous blonde in the year-round So Paulista uniform of skinny jeans, T-shirt, and strappy sandals (and a ring of twin twelve-carat square-cut yellow and white diamonds)-Daslu does stock fall clothes, for its jet-setting clientele to wear on trips to colder climes.

Brazilian ladies don't do intellectual Japanese fashion or high-concept modernism. "The difficult thing is to sell something that does not make you feminine," says Tranchesi, who claims that Brazilian women "hate not being sexy for their husbands. They are Latin husbands, so it is easy to understand!" Daslu's fashion buying-which Tranchesi does in tandem with her best friend, the glamorous honey-blonde Donata Mereilles-is, therefore, a quest for "things that make the women beautiful."