Then Or Now

NEW YORK — At some point during Fashion Week, I realized that if I saw one more conservative pencil skirt, wallpaper floral coat or frazzled beehive hairdo, my head was going to explode. So many designers were stuck in the past, reviving old styles and old brands, too nervous to experiment during this time of economic uncertainty, that it was almost aggressively boring.

Talk in the front row wasn't about Michael Kors' prim, 1960s knee-length skirts and twin sets, Ralph Lauren's self-referencing country-city mash-up of lumberjack plaids and soft tulle or Peter Som's soupcon of ruffles for his debut at Bill Blass. It wasn't about Oscar de la Renta's bullish collection, with a surfeit of gold embroidery, or Carolina Herrera's horsey luxe.

It was about the election. It was about change.

And change was in the air on the runways too, if you knew where to look.

Marc Jacobs started his show on time -- really. After last season's two-hour delay, which caused so much fallout that Jacobs threatened to move his show to Paris, the most influential designer in New York had a lot of ground to make up Friday night. And he did it, starting a mere 17 minutes late after coming onstage in all his post-rehab, buffed and blue-haired glory to urge guests to take their seats. Half the seats were empty because people hadn't bothered to be on time, but he started anyway.

This was an older, wiser Jacobs who invited his old friend Kim Gordon and Sonic Youth to play live in front of a video installation by Tony Oursler. Popcorn was served, and so was Champagne. There was even a Sonic Youth T-shirt on each seat.

And when the models came out, they were wearing feathery white mohawk hairpieces and tricorn hats -- mature punks and revolutionaries. Last season, Jacobs was all about sex, but these clothes were puritanical -- dropped-crotch shorts and Revolutionary War-era loafers, a gorgeous basket weave sweater in a pastel melange knit, modest peg leg trousers and longer skirts.

The focus was on controlled cutting and folding, with nearly every coat and jacket falling away from the body with a blouson or pleated back. A powder-blue shift dress was completely spare save for crystal cuffs, and a cream dress was embellished with nothing more than a boxy sleeve and pinched shoulder.

This was stripped-down Marc to be sure -- disciplined, controlled, safe and above all salable. But it wasn't nearly as fun.