Man Of The Moment.(Marc Jacobs)

In my life in the fashion trenches, there have been only two collections that were seismic moments destined to become part of the legacy of modern fashion history. The first was YSL's Broadway Suit collection of January 1978, my first-ever Paris YSL couture collection. The second belongs to Marc Jacobs, who took the biannual toxic blight out of New York Fashion Week with one of the most defining collections of his career.

With his 53 looks on parade to Gershwin's classic Rhapsody in Blue, Jacobs became the new Yves Saint Laurent. Forceful, witty, pragmatic sportswear was luxed up in linens, cottons, and lames specially created for his show from archived prints. While other design houses wrestle with the YSL legacy, Jacobs's work is original and based on his own idea of what is or isn't elegance. At the age of 45, the designer, who bounces between a Paris flat near the Eiffel Tower and a studio suite at the Mercer Hotel, has come through the great darkness (rehab, romantic turbulence) into a new creative light.

The collection was about being sexy without being naked. No bustier tops and short shorts--what woman with a career and family is going to buy those? A brown man-tailored jacket with a bronze lame waist over a wrapped and draped lame plaid skirt isn't for everyone, yet it somehow seemed like a new way to arrive at the office and then go on to dinner.

A sleeveless tunic on Jourdan Dunn, her head wrapped babushka-style in inky satin, worn with clusters of bangles, a savage-chic necklace, and espadrilles, was the most extraordinary summation of Jacobs's efforts to take his own themes and some of the great ideas of YSL folklore to create dash and modern glamour. "I loved Jourdan in that look," Jacobs said. "She was like a young Eartha Kitt. "

Victoria Beckham, Jacobs's current muse, thought everything was beautiful. And there was a lot to behold, from the sleek double-breasted Bermuda suits (another nod to M. Saint Laurent) to the romantic Edwardianesque bustles to the flounced skirts that evoked the pioneering American West. There were embellished jackets and boater hats by Stephen Jones and remarkable evening dresses, tres Martha Graham, in, of all fabrics, seersucker matte jersey. "I asked myself, How would Mme Gres have done seersucker?"

His is a destiny borne from both failure (fired at Perry Ellis for his infamous grunge collection) and success (turning around the fortunes of Louis Vuitton), one that weighs him down with fear, self-doubt, and sleepless nights. In his new world of two-hour gym treks and therapy daily, Jacobs feels he's approaching perfection. "I worked so hard on the bags and accessories," he told me. "This collection made me happy because it was all the things I love." It was also perfection and, as an American collection, one of the most significant and powerful statements in New York fashion in two decades. At a time when retail is worried about sales, Jacobs gave fashion hope. Watching his show from my front-row bleacher seat made me proud to see an American talent of such great depth--what an achievement to be able to design for someone like Sofia Coppola or Lee Radziwill.

Mixed Doubles