Intermittently, in the past 20 years, French haute couture has been reported to be dying. Hand-made, one-off clothes of exorbitant prices, it was speculated, wouldn’t be able to attract clients affected by an increasingly unpredictable world economic climate. Five years back, at the height of the global financial meltdown, which the International Monetary Fund called the biggest financial shock to the global economy since the 1930s, both big and small couture houses had to scale down to the point that many observers thought the business wouldn’t survive. And for one of them, it didn’t. In May 2009, Christian Lacroix, filed for bankruptcy and by the end of the year, it was shuttered. Since its inception in the 1980s, the house was never profitable. In 2008, a year before it closed, it was reported that Christian Lacroix lost €10 million.

However dismal the situation, French haute couture cannot be obliterated—it is a survivor. The business—more than a century old—has carried on remarkably well despite two World Wars, the US-Afghanistan and Iraq conflicts, and several economic slumps. In the past two to three year, interest in high fashion soared as Asia yields ever-increasing number of haute couture customers. Boding well for the business was the return of the house of Schiaperelli last year, which, ironically, was kick-started with a one-time collection by Mr Lacroix. The business of high fashion is not under threat… again.

French haute couture is so dominated by storied couture houses such as Chanel , Dior and Givenchy that others not of the same league are often overlooked if they do not have the marketing muscle to alleviate their names to marquee status. In fact, the average consumer of fashion may not even have heard of them. Despite lacking in big-time publicity, these designers are not doing anything less extraordinary than their more esteemed counterparts. In fact, quite a number of them are producing rather impressive work and maintaining a clientele large enough to keep their maisons sustainable. The three names that showed at this evening’s second last night of Fashion Week are a collective testament that haute couture is not a moribund French institution, but one that can be repeatedly celebrated through creativity, charm, and complete chic.

Of the three designers to show us what they can do in Paris, Alexis Mabille is the most traditional. His silhouettes celebrated the female body unapologetically, with an emphasis on the waist and hips that seemed rather late Victorian. This became understandable when Mr Mabille claimed that he was inspired by the nineteenth-century Italian artist Giovanni Boldini, who was considered the most fashionable portrait painter of his time. Some of Mr Mabille’s dresses were evocative of those worn by the artist’s subjects such as the actress Sarah Bernhardt or those in Ladies of the First Empire.

It was a collection that eschews hard lines in favour of liquid drapes, rounded shoulders, and curvy hips. Mr Mabille’s love for evening dresses—possibly a source of fine income—was palpable but they offered no sparks to ignite your fervor. Most were confined to the fitted bodice and flared skirt or the mermaid shape, all with the obligatory embellishments. The sleekness was, however, oddly, disrupted by the appearance of a ball gown with massive leg-O-mutton sleeves that recall those by a certain Dutch designing duo!

Unlike Mr Mabille, the pair behind On Aura Tout Vu, Bulgarian designers Livia Stoianova and Yassen Samouilov, depended less on the standard feminine codes of haute couture. The collection, which comprised some pieces from the Spring/Summer 2013 collection as well as the current season’s, was a happy synthesis of tradition and innovation, with tongue-in-cheek stirred into the mix. You sensed irreverence, too, in the use of non-luxury fabrics such as PVC, which were teamed with leather and digitally-printed silk satin. Such street sensibility, for some, is where the charm of On Aura Tout Vu can be found, and the reason why their clothes look young.

The ornamentation, too, tended to lean towards the unconventional. There were the strung plexiglass cutouts, between which crystal beads were sandwiched to form vertebrae-like shapes that were attached to bodice, sleeves, and necklines or the Thai beetlewings ((traditionally applied on jewellery or shawls known as pha biang), iridescent ovals that were used like giant sequins. They were perhaps aiming for the fresh and modern (the entomological idea being on-trend) or even exotic, but for many in Asia, both of these materials are not entirely novel as they can easily be found in Chatuchak weekend market of Bangkok.

Closing the French Couture segment of Fashion Week was Julien Fournié, who started his own house in 2009 after working for Torrente (before that, there were experiences with Givenchy, Jean-Paul Gaultier and Claude Montana). Mr Fournié has a certain way with the female form that reflects his training at past houses: a femme fatale that is old Hollywood and new anime. For the current season, his was a strong silhouette, augmented by cuts of such precision that the clothes sheathed like second skin, as well as by details that mildly suggested a sort of space-age femininity seen through the eyes of a medieval princess.

Mr Fournié showed such eye-catching day separates that he could easily tempt women to expand their couture purchases beyond evening wear. There was a bolero with oversized rosettes at the shoulder, a comfortable-looking corset that possibly paid tribute to his grandmother who was a corset maker, a shirt with a bib-front that had its top-end corners rise to give the illusion of pagoda shoulders, and those high-collared blouses with beautifully shaped bishop sleeves. These were clearly wearable clothes. The flounces, the frills, the pleats were never over-the-top, employed as much to lend graphic interest to the clothes as to skew the traditional silhouettes towards the modern. Mr Fournié was able to lend newness to areas where you thought inventiveness could not reside.

The three designers that showed this evening have very different styles, yet they share common traits: a taut embrace of haute couture traditions and techniques, and the passion for clothes that reject the vulgar. What they did was also not a slavish adherence to the aesthetics of the past. Their work reflects their own métier that is clearly moving in tandem with the times, and their clothes destined for the wardrobes of women other than social sirens or provocation-crazy pop stars. In their hands, French haute couture not only has a bright future, but a global one.

Fashion Week 2013 is staged at the Sands Expo and Convention Centre Hall F and ends on Saturday night

Thai fashion designers have been getting quite a bit of international press in the past five years, thanks to Thakoon Panichgul and Nunthirat ‘Koi’ Suwannagate. Mr Panichgul and Ms Sunwannagate, interestingly, do not consider themselves to be Thai designers, preferring, it is heard, to be identified as New York designers. In fashion, where you’re based is more important than where you’re born. Mr Panichgul is reported to shy away from the overtures of Thai buyers to represent him in Bangkok as he wishes to be associated with New York so as, many suspect, to better attract a powerful clientele. Despite the snub, Thais are so enamoured with these two overseas fashion stars that the pair’s high-profile customers are considered to “have flown the flag for Bangkok’s designers”.

Flag-bearing, however, may not have been Vatit Itthi’s main objective, even when the brand has relocated its base from Chicago to Bangkok. During the on-going Fashion Week, the label showed mainstream looks that perpetuated a common belief: for fashion to qualify as high style, it has to subscribe to shapes of the past, preferably from the Forties, Fifties or Sixties. Two guys are behind the Vatit Itthi label: Vatit Virashpanth and Itthi Metanee, and the pairing offered double the nostalgia. With such fashionable elegance of another time, it seemed that these fellows had been watching quite a few Hollywood movies costumed by Edith Head while defining their American sportswear sensibility.

The old-fashioned approach to their designs brought to mind Thai fashion of the past or designers such as Pichita (Boonyarataphan Ruksajit, who is now usually remembered as the woman behind the Thai Airways uniforms) or Kai (Somchai Kaewthong, who is now the man to go to when your mother needs a dress for your wedding). It was a return to the classic, a celebration of already celebrated stylistic forms. Perhaps, for the designing duo, it was a more realistic view of couture since it is possible that their customers could be women of a certain age.

Tried as they did with varying the silhouette, their outfits did not pack a punch, never mind not breaking new ground. A form-fitting bustier dress was topped with tulle that had negligible embroidery, a fit-and-flare ball gown was designed with an inverted U-shape cutout to reveal a jewel-tone underskirt, a bustier dress with a bubble skirt that ended above the knee was finished with chiffon the rest of the way, and, to add interest, floral appliqués cascaded from where the two fabrics met like decorations on costumes of Loy Krathong beauty queens.

And you had a feeling you have seen them somewhere in Siam Centre.

The show closed with a yellow and cream gown, first worn by former Miss Thailand Cindy Sirinya Burbridge during Elle Fashion Week in Bangkok, less than a week before Vatit Ithhi was due to show here. The dress comprised a bodice of a bustier fronted by another with ears, and a full skirt parted, curtain-like, in the middle, recalling a certain “Propaganda” dress from London during the Fall/Winter 2005 season. What was disconcerting was the token embroidery in black that sprouted—like common orchids—from the right hip to part of the posterior. These spray-bits were a recurrent theme, but given their sparseness and odd placement, they were not modest, but meagre. As one woman in the audience said, “Thai designers usually offer more.”

Fashion Week 2013 is staged at the Sands Expo and Convention Centre Hall F from now through 19 October

Although based in the unlikely city of Dubai, Filipino designer Michael Cinco was able to set up his own couture house and reach out to Tinseltown. His face, nearly always obscured by massive shades, may be unfamiliar to many, but it has been basking in the light of an especially good year.

In January, Lady Gaga wore one of his over-the-top dresses to a charity event with the Chicago Bulls. Then in July, Christina Aguilera sported a short and fitted number on The Voice. Between that, Modern Family star Sofia Vergara traipsed down the red carpet in a bustier gown at the Golden Globes Awards, Britney Spears was seen in a front-and-back-revealing dress at the 21st Annual Elton John AIDS Foundation’s Oscar Viewing Party, and Jennifer Lopez sang a duet with Andrea Bocelli in a scorcher of a gown on Dancing with the Stars.

If that wasn’t quite enough, the man was featured in America’s Next Top Model (cycle 16), televised in the US in March. Still insufficient? In the same month, Mr Cinco’s collection closed the LA Fashion Week!

Fashion cognoscenti may scoff at appearing in an unimportant fashion event, but Mr Cinco was all-beaming when interviewed on video, declaring his love for LA. It is understandable why the city appeals to him. Only in Hollywood do you have the clients who want so much sparkle in a dress that even houses in the Valley during Christmas do not dazzle as brightly. A producer excitedly declared at the end of the LA fashion show, “I want him to dress me for the Oscars”.

Mr Cinco’s clothes are not for the faint-hearted. Those idols give us an idea who he usually dresses. If you’ve got the curves and have an unhealthy love for crystal, beading and embroidery, usually all at once, he’s your man. At Fashion Week, gowns after gowns after gowns of dazzling sumptuousness floated past with near sameness: embellished where it matters, and sheer where it shouldn’t be. There, too, was a sense of the theatrical: gowns with tiered skirts so large, the Victorians would have been proud of its designer. This, it would later be ascertained, is a Michael Cinco signature.

At the finale, when all the models stood still on the catwalk, it became apparent that Mr Cinco’s approach to couture was one dimensional. If the mostly black and red dresses were to morph into white, they would easily be wedding gowns for showgirls. This was not surprising because Mr Cinco has always been known for his bridal couture. When he arrived in Dubai 15 years ago, he was geared to give the Arab women, who, according to him, “love bling and opulence”, exactly what they wanted. There are other Filipino gown designers in Dubai such as Ezra Santos and Furne One, and, collectively, they would out-bling each other to ensnare the most important Arab clients.

The quality of Mr Cinco’s labour-intensive embellishment cannot be denied. With a team of 100 craftsmen from various countries, the atelier could churn out dresses that typically take at least 100 hours to complete or, in Lady Gaga’s case, five days to sew up. This season, inspiration was drawn from Andalucía and the flamenco. Mr Cinco used motifs usually found on dance costumes, on which unconventional shapes like rectangles and baguette cuts were hand-stitched unto the garments. They glitter with hedonistic glamour, these dresses, and for the likes of Lady Gaga and her stylists, they could leave a deep impression.

In this respect, although he is based in a city 6,916 kilometres by air from the Philippines, Mr Cinco’s style is quintessentially Filipino as he shares a common love of extravagant garments with designing countrymen such as Francis Libiran and Oliver Tolentino (both, too, have dressed America’s Next Top Model), a love that could be traced to the Spanish colonization of the Philippines. What the Spaniards left behind played a social role as well as a cultural one. But with the Philippines GDP not quite catching up with the rest of Asia, the lavishness these designers bestow on their clothes needs a wider audience. It is, thus, not surprising that they would court the Middle East and the American West Coast. As Michael Cinco enthused, “I always design for women who has (sic) money.”

Fashion Week 2013 is staged at the Sands Expo and Convention Centre Hall F from now through 19 October

When it comes to Indonesian fashion, one name stands out: Biyan Wanaatmadja, or simply Biyan. Mr Wanaatmadja is not only one of the archipelago’s most in-demand designers, he’s probably its most successful. His label, established in 1984, was once retailed in Singapore through the now-defunct Link. Recently, it’s available on Net-A-Porter, and the prices show how far he has come. A floor-length silk evening dress with a beaded/embroidered bodice retails for S$2,196.

Biyan on Net-A-Porter is testament to the Indonesian’s design strength and saleability. His are not breakthrough styles, but they do not stand poorer against the Continental names stocked by the e-commerce site. A beaded top with raglan sleeves is teamed with Stella McCartney pants and the pairing is as natural and convincing as anything you’ll see on Alexa Chung. What Mr Wanaatmadja has done with his label is a fine balancing act: a penchant  for beading and embroidery on lightweight fabrics, a decorative finesse that can be traced to his Surabaya roots, and simple, modern shapes that will not stick out in a woman’s present-day wardrobe.

Sebastian Gunawan, on the contrary, does not primarily provide for such a wardrobe. To be sure, these are not ready-to-wear. Like so many of his couture compatriots who love to bead and embroider with abandon, Mr Gunawan depends almost solely on surface adornment to express himself. In fact, his embellishments appear to be the only thing he can bank on. At Fashion Week, it was hard to see the breadth of his ability beyond the sparkly encrustation. As he showed mostly evening/party dresses, it was as clear as the crystals he used that Mr Gunawan designed for the woman who dreams, she who, even after girlhood, floats into reverie of a royal wedding. As the dresses glided past, one could visualise Mia Thermopolis, heir to the throne of Genovia, choosing a gown for the Independence Day Ball. The Princess Dairies franchise could have found a new costume designer.

This ethereal woman to Mr Gunawan was his “modern muse” even when she loved the details you’d mostly find on a Barbara Cartland heroine: sweetheart necklines, miniscule capped sleeves, gathered peplums, flouncy tiered skirts, and hip-enhancing fish tails. It was romantic, no doubt, and it was possible to be wholeheartedly absorbed in the fantasy, and many women in the audience appeared to be. The men, too, for these were what trophy wives should wear, muse or not. But it was not the modern romanticism of Romeo Gigli or, to pick a more current name, Alexander McQueen.

To the less starry-eyed, Mr Gunawan stuck to a clichéd idea of couture, preferring the silhouettes and shapes of another age. An open-tulip skirt embroidered on the underside, the waisted jacket with Watteau pleats at the back, the body-conscious gown with cowl drape in the rear: these revealed a confident hand, but when he moved from the traditional to the classical, such as the gown with the panniered skirt, his deftness was as shaky as the distended hips.

For couture craftsmanship, there was, oddly, an over-reliance on skin-coloured tulle to hold together necklines and fall-away sleeves, to prevent plunging Vs from splaying or to prop up shapes that cannot, by themselves, cling to the body. Even a bustier had to be held up by a tulle foundation. This was disconcerting because Mr Gunawan utilised a rather sophisticated, not, what he called, “simple” design language. A princess, no matter how forward-thinking, still needs her modesty.

Fashion Week 2013 is staged at the Sands Expo and Convention Centre Hall F from now through 19 October 

The popularity of Korean fashion in Singapore is a predictable effect from the spell K-pop has cast over the local pop-psyche in the past eight years. For many fans, to love Girls’ Generation is to want to look like them. Or like G Dragon, who was a bigger news maker during Fashion Week than the event’s 19 participating fashion designers.

Hallyu Style hasn’t really overwhelmed consumers as rapidly as Korean Pop, yet it is attracting more-than-enough attention for local retailers such as Front Row’s Ann Kositchotitana to open Headline Seoul last year. Although touted as “Korean fast fashion”, Headline Seoul isn’t entirely a Korean label (since it is conceived by a Thai based in Singapore) and is not as massive a brand as 8Seconds (Korea’s answer to H&M), but like the latter, it offers the kind of clothes that will only add to their customers’ already staggering quantity of the cute and the girly.

Even before the appearance of Headline Seoul, small retailers and e-shops have been selling clothes sourced from the frenetic wholesale district of Dongdaemun, which comprises a staggering 26 shopping malls over 10 blocks, all offering inexpensive merchandise.  A CNN report in July this year noted that “Korean fashion is furiously fast and fickle”, which could also describe much of fashion everywhere else in the world. So, what is Korean fashion, and is there a Korean look beyond those found in Doosan Tower of Dongdaemun?

Lie Sang Bong is considered one of Korea’s most renowned designers, yet his clothes do not correspond to the styles preferred by his country’s visible pop and drama idols. Indeed, Mr Lie’s designs do not reach out to a particular woman. His fondness for structure and tailoring, and his strong graphic sense seem not to speak to the likes of Sohee from Wonder Girls. This is not to say Mr Lie’s clothes are not current—they are, but there’s an old-world charm to his modern sensibility, and this is where the beauty stands out.

Even in his most forward styles, Mr Lie adheres to a lady-like silhouette, not a girly one. In his Spring/Summer 2014 collection, first seen in Paris early this month, the clothes were feminine without embracing the ridiculous juvenile excesses of dolly glam (preferred even by grown-ups such as blogger du jour Xia Xue). There was the technical aspect too. A ‘skort’ (that increasingly popular hybrid of skirt and shorts) in his hands had a certain couture refinement—the front was skinny-legged like bike shorts and the back, semi-full skirt. And that sleeveless jacket— the extended seam in the rear of the armhole tagged to the front so that they form almost tulip-like petals.

Mr Lie’s love for flowers was evident. Stylised Rose of Sharon, Korea’s national flower, would emerge in various forms—prints, laser cut-outs, collages, corroborating his reputation as a designer rooted to his homeland. But unlike in the past, when motifs were employed to underscore their cultural importance, this season’s Korean-ness was evident only as a mere hint.  As the brand becomes more cosmopolitan, this is necessary for it to go beyond Korea and to set itself apart from early-gen designers such as Moon Young Hee and the late Andre Kim.

Although the clothes were womanly, they had a youthful zing to them. This was seen in the proportions: shorter jacket sleeves over long shirt sleeves, cropped jackets teamed with longer blouses, knee-length coat-dresses above shorter shirt-dresses, and such parings that, together with the playful prints, provided the currency for the brand to remain relevant. Even when Korean fashion can’t escape the pop-culture ethos, it is showing design strength through the work of Lie Sang Bong.

Fashion Week 2013 is staged at the Sands Expo and Convention Centre Hall F from now till 19 October 

On the day the Asian Couture Federation was inaugurated, Stéphane Rolland showed his Autumn/Winter 2013 haute couture collection in a ballroom setting, away from the main runway, to an audience seated for dinner. Unless you were at the VIP tables, and not at the back of what was called the Crystal Ballroom (overhung with 27 chandeliers), you would have missed the chance at seeing master craftsmanship up-close. More than that, you would have let pass the opportunity to witness an elegance that seemed new because it was the elegance that had lost its way among the noise that is fashion today.

Elegance is a modern rarity; it has become too restrained for our image-glutted age. Understated sensuality has been replaced by calculated effrontery. At Fashion Week, this was personified by Jeannie Mai, the LA-based Vietnamese-Chinese TV personality who was appointed as the event’s “Digital Correspondent”. Ms Mai appeared to prefer flash to dash. Like most of her Twitter-mad generation, she went by the motto: dress to impress, pose to post. As many of the attendees visually concurred, quiet fashion would not help you stick out of the online din. You could be mediocre, but you had to be meretricious. Miley Cyrus knew it, so did Jeannie Mai. Mr Rolland’s pared down clothes were, therefore, at odds with this fixation.

The show was accompanied by a flamenco dancer, but his energetic performance did not distract from the breathtaking grace of the collection. Mr Rolland’s streamlined style was a calm counterpoint to the vigorous Andalusían moves. Each outfit appeared serene—unruffled even with ruffles! So much of the body was covered up, yet sheer fabrics thoughtfully used and placed suggested that these were not for the prude. It was prim without the proper.

The silhouette was the most striking part of the collection, but it was not a silhouette that brazenly celebrated the female superbody. It was not about powerful shoulders, a constricted waist, twerkable derriere, and long limbs. While his clothes do perceive the body in shapely glory, they do not exaggerate the curves. It’s about gentle contouring: how smooth the shoulder, how even the hips, how relaxed the legs. Mr Rolland conceived quite a few pieces based on the column, his pillar of strength. For the woman who is statuesque, these are clothes that heighten her regal carriage. They allowed her to glide, a move reminiscent of the movie stars of the Thirties.

For all the formal control and the restrictive black-navy-white palette, there was dramatic whimsy, such as his treatment of sleeves: petal sleeves that drop to the ankle or puffed sleeves the size of balloon skirts or the silk chiffon fluted sleeves (of what could be a wedding dress) that dropped into trains! He provoked with clerical and school uniform collars (the prim) and teased with sheerness across the thigh (sans proper) so that the skirt looked like it had slipped down to the knees, revealing the petticoat. He had a weakness for halves: half capes, half jackets, half lapels; half solid, half sheer, all to affect something deliberately missing or cleverly omitted.

Some of the ideas were brought forward from his Spring/Summer collection. Continuity not being common in fashion today, this illustrated that good ideas need not be a one-season trick. Mr Rolland knew how to build on his strengths and it showed beautifully. But what stood out above the controlled designs and unmistakable refinement was the fit, whether in dressmaking or tailored form. It is a fit for comfort and a fit for beauty. This, for those who understand, is the true value of haute couture. Although these clothes were not worn by models from his original show in Paris, they sheathed each girl like second skin.

If haute couture is about refined luxury, Stéphane Rolland’s got it.

Fashion Week 2013 is staged at the Sands Expo and Convention Centre Hall F from now till 19 October 

When Japanese fashion is brought up in any social discourse, two names are never left out: Yohji Yamamoto and Rei Kawakubo (of Comme des Garcons). Although these designers began their work in Tokyo, it was in Paris that they achieved global recognition. Yet, unlike earlier foreigners such as Cristóbal Balenciaga, Elsa Schiaparelli, and even Karl Lagerfeld, the duo did not tote their success in France like a passport. This is due largely to the un-French, indeed, un-Continental look of their clothes, which, despite appearing like nothing else of that time, had a visual language that can be traced to their homeland.

Even before the success of these two non-conformists, Japanese designers were not alien to Paris. Other compatriots have earlier made their mark in the city although without the same far-reaching impact (with the exception of Issey Miyake): Kenzo Takada (who arrived in Paris in 1964 before showing for the first time in 1970), Issey Miyake (in 1973, after stints with Guy Laroche, Hubert de Givenchy, and Geoffrey Beene), Kansai Yamamoto (in 1974, showed ahead of the designer he apprenticed with: Junko Koshino), Yuki Torri (in 1975, as a result of a partnership with Jean-Jacques Picart, who would later launch Christian Lacroix, and, more recently, “pushed” Riccardo Tisci for the position at Givenchy), Hanae Mori (who was the first Japanese designer to exhibit abroad in New York in 1965, and then in Paris in 1977, after Grace Kelly became a customer), Junko Koshino (in 1978, twelve years after the success of her retail outlet in Tokyo called Collette), and Sueo Irié (simply known as Irié, was Kenzo’s assistant; never showed although he had a boutique in the city).

What makes a Japanese designer Japanese? Nationality alone is surely not enough, nor the city in which one chooses to show. Even from aesthetics alone, designers such as Kenzo and Hanae Mori leaned towards European traditions. Kenzo, now retired, was, in fact, considered “the most French of the Japanese”, having studied at l’Ecole de la Chambre Syndicale de la Couture and nurtured by Paris. As more of them show in this capital city in later years, the cutting-edge once associated with Japanese designers of the Eighties can no longer satisfactorily define Japonisme.

On the fifth day of Fashion Week, the Japanese had it all to themselves and the opportunity to illustrate what it means to be a Japanese designer today. Alas, that was not to be as the three who showed this evening belong mainly to one part of a broad spectrum of Japanese fashion design, those who are rooted to the East while looking to the West, those not seeking to break new ground.

The most senior of the three, and one of the earliest to show in Paris, Junko Koshino opened with a collection that gave a strong nod to traditional Japanese ideas of beauty, yet offered contemporary elements that would entice socialites dreaming of Shibuya. The East-West pull was unmistakable, and the presentation was bracketed with kimono shapes (for which she’s a strong proponent) of exaggerated proportions floating over lean, body-skimming dresses. It was dramatic, which was not surprising since Ms Koshino regularly designs costumes for the theatre (and was nominated for a Tony for her designs in Amon Miyamoto’s Broadway production of Pacific Overtures).

The show opened with a striking silk taffeta coat with pointed slip-case ends on each side that billowed into a jib of conjoined scalene triangles as the model glided by—her body sheathed in a strapless striped top and slim, floor-length skirt. And closed with more of such an ensemble, each time the coats ballooned more fantastically. The composition of a slim solid body and the airy, voluminous outerwear was almost like flagpole and flag: imperturbable as it was graceful.

Between these coats that float, she offered separates that were a lot less arresting, as well as more of those kimono-inspired dresses she’s known for. What did not escape the keen eye were her use of unusual bonded fabrics and the effect of Oriental art that mimicked gold dust. Such craft-like treatment contrasted with the kind of Sixties futurism found at the start of her career. Ms Koshino no longer shows in Paris, and, perhaps, felt less pressure to pander to a Western audience.

Who the target audience was for Yoshiki Hishinuma was less clear. Although his label debuted in Paris in 1992, Mr Hishinuma, who had a short stint at Miyake Design Studio in the late Seventies, started his ‘couture’ line in Paris only last spring. He is known for technological effects on textile and, at the same time, handwork. This season, he married the pretty to the progressive, using basically feminine silhouettes on which the femininity was enhanced by manipulating the shell to give the flat fabrics (organic silks, linens and cottons) life as ruffles and flounces. He was also partial to appliqués: demonstrating his preference for textures over plain weave. This very conscious attempt at creating surface effects—even on printed fabrics—so as to enhance tactile value seemed like mere decorating. In this respect, the approach was almost French, since it can be linked all the way back to 18th Century France, to the practice of Rose Bertin, Marie Antoinette’s dressmaker who was known to swag and swathe a la minute so as not to let the queen’s already large gowns look plain and dull. Mr Hishinuma’s dresses, while considerably more streamlined, looked just as over-embellished, if not over-designed. With some of the dresses, one sensed they came from the Scarlett O’Hara school of dressmaking.

In contrast, Keita Maruyama’s collection looked extremely commercial. The designer, who first showed in Paris in 1997, does not cut his cloth the way the Eighties Japanese designers deface their fabrics. For Spring/Summer 2014, Mr Maruyama’s clothes were so mall-friendly they could have been Esprit on a good day. These were cute clothes for housewives who do not want to look dowdy: tea-time-ready blouses and slim skirts, sweaters and shirts for a night at the cinema, macramé-knit tops for looking sweet with the BFFs. And to augment the girly loveliness, adorable bags such as the clutch in the shape of an origami crane were included. To seal his Japanese identity, the obligatory kimono-inspired happy coats made their appearance, complete with to-be-expected embroidery.

When Mr Maruyama took to the catwalk for his bow, he was met with a smile in the front row from the man who was there in Paris at the very beginning: Kenzo Takada. Mr Takada was not part of those who would show the “Hiroshima chic” of the Eighties. Like him, the three designers seen this evening could play the race card, but they did not show anything that could be described as iconoclastic, regardless of the inclusion of the Japanese icon, the kimono. Perhaps thirty years after they invaded Paris, the Japanese no longer need to challenge Western dress, reject popular culture or confront design conventions. Embracing is easier.

Fashion Week 2013 is staged at the Sands Expo and Convention Centre Hall F from now till 19 October 

If you were to attend the opening show of a film festival, what would you have expected to see? Perhaps expectations were already there: big and the best—headlined by a marquee-name director, whose picture had probably already won numerous awards in the festival circuit or well-loved by critics all over. At the end of the screening, whether with tears in your eyes or warmth in your heart or both, you were enthralled, inspired, and challenged, and wanted more. The film had engaged your capacity to laugh, to feel, and to marvel.

The same, unfortunately, cannot be said of the opening show of Fashion Week 2013 (actually, more than seven days, and is, in fact, an amalgamation of previously three fashion weeks: Men’s, Women’s and Couture). If fashion cannot be compared to films, then at least, like a movie, it can entertain. Pierre Balmain kicked off this year’s event with as much delight as an atrium show of the opening of a shopping mall.

To venture further, it is vital to first note that this is a Pierre Balmain show, not Balmain. Is there a difference? The dissimilarity is like jet beads and iron-on crystals. Pierre Balmain, despite the full name, is, in fact, a “young line” (read: diffusion), put together and distributed by the Italian manufacturer Ittierre SpA, a business that identifies itself as “the leader in the development of young lines, jeans wear, contemporary, prêt-à-porter of high range”. What was shown earlier this evening was, therefore, not the collection designed by Olivier Rousteing, who took over from Christophe Decarnin when the latter parted with the house in April 2011 (and now rumoured to be assisting Kanye West revive the rapper’s failed eponymous label). Ittierre SpA is the licensed company behind such secondary lines such as C’N’C and Galliano, just two labels in a roster that has no retail superstars.

Not all who attended the show at the Marina Bay Sands Expo and Convention Centre had knowledge of this brand discrepancy. The guests—many dressed for Instagram—came expecting a Paris-worthy assault. Forty-five minutes late, the show opened with an abstract print blouse and skinny pants, laced down the front of the legs. Your heartbeat did not accelerate. Next came a man’s bleached-to-almost-white denim jacket and equally pale jeans. Your shoulders drooped. By the time the crumpled gold evening dress with the un-pressed seam on the front slit appeared near the end, you have sunk in the chair. The presentation of about 30 outfits that appeared to be pulled from the shop floor was characterised by a leitmotiv of ordinariness. There wasn’t even a styling ruse, no attempt at distorting your perception of what these designs were: bland. Compounded by the weak choice of models, these could be clothes from any of the units on B2 of The Shoppes at Marina Bay Sands.

A good fashion show, not just an opening show, should have the power to arouse as you absorb, seduce as you succumb, enchant as you enjoy. According to the marketing material issued by organiser Fidé Fashion Weeks, it will be a season of “captivating shows”. For a start, the promise was not a plump one.

Fashion Week 2013 is staged at the Sands Expo and Convention Centre Hall F from 9 to 19 October