smart moves; The spring collections did not change fashion history.

Byline: Sally Singer

Was it when the ninth silver minidress appeared on a spring 2007 catwalk that onlookers shut their notebooks and uttered a collective groan? Whatever the moment, a sense of fatigue and irrelevance hovered over much of the collections in New York and Milan. Sure, there had been some terrific exceptions: Marc Jacobs, Narciso Rodriguez, Oscar de la Renta, Marni, Prada, Bottega Veneta. But the fashion industry as a whole seemed to be asking the wrong questions: Was it time, in the breathy words of Justin Timberlake, to bring "sexy back"? No. Do grown women, as much as they may have enjoyed Ken Burns's fine PBS documentary on Andy Warhol and the Factory, actually want to look like Edie Sedgwick? No. Even though five-pocket jeans may be on the wane as a newsy must-have, will anyone really wear a knicker, a genie, a brief? No! It was a disheartening spectacle. Here's the rub: When fashion soars, it is a lovely distraction from the real concerns of the world; when it skids, you just begin to wonder. . . .

It wasn't the fault of any particular collection or country. After a spectacular fall 2006-in which proportions, atelier techniques, and iconic couture signatures had been radically reconsidered and remastered-it was difficult for designers to know where to go next. Great ideas in fashion take a while to really find a place in our closets; we might have admired last season's exuberant volumes, but how many of us have worn a Cristobal Balenciaga-inspired balloon-shaped dress to the office? (Come spring we might, although only the rear of the frock will be buoyant.) And then there's the matter of the resort collections, the mid-season clothes you find in stores in November and December. Those collections-which are not shown on a runway and a few years ago amounted to not much more than a sweater, a bikini, a little beaded dress-are now full of fashion direction and miraculously lovely details. Perhaps it is too much to expect designers to reinvent the modern wardrobe every three months. Perhaps not every season has to leave a mark in fashion history.

And then came Paris. As is its habit, the city illuminated the trends that were lurking in the shadows of all that had come before. Nicolas Ghesquiere's sharply tailored robots for Balenciaga neatly encapsulated the futurist (and, indeed, Futurist) currents that had pulsed through New York, most notably at Rodriguez and Francisco Costa for Calvin Klein. Dries van Noten's and Jean Paul Gaultier's

cunning and chic riffs on track pants and windbreakers ushered in a new era of sporty cool and added context to Consuelo Castiglioni's nifty leggings and tees for Marni, Marc Jacobs's layered tanks, and Proenza Schouler's stripy sportswear. And at Alexander McQueen, Yves Saint Laurent, and Louis Vuitton came romantic flower girls who made the garden obsessions of many younger designers (Zac Posen, Thakoon, Ro_darte, Erin Fetherston) seem right on target for a rather pretty spring. Three trends emerged: sleek, metallic minimalism; historicist and pacificist romanticism; brilliantly hued urban athleticism.

But something else also came to light. Reassured that at least a few ideas or themes were in play, one turned one's attention to the clothes; and the clothes didn't disappoint. This spring the most utility-minded basics have been made with a care and imagination usually lavished on much grander, showstopping items. Take the big tee, that shapeless staple of his cupboard. At Proenza Schouler it's a curvy seamed patchwork of sherbet-hued stripes that twists ever so slightly on the body. At Marc Jacobs it's a sexy skimp of a dress in sunset hues that hugs the thighs provocatively. At Peter Som, who showed his best collection to date, it's twisted and knotted into an adorable nautical day dress. At Doo.Ri (where Doo-Ri Chung also revealed her ...