Hold That Mini Line!

Couturier Yves Saint Laurent ordered a gold plated copper cast made of Model Veruschka's bosom, slipped it over a mannequin, and sent her down the runway; it was one way to top off a skirt. Courreges had a model roar up to the footlights in a minicar with a Plexiglas dome, and presented another wearing pingpong balls pasted on her oversized sunglasses. Cecil Beaton sketched. Lauren Bacall applauded. Katharine Hepburn hid out from photographers. Coco Chanel curled up on the salon stairway while her collection was shown and coolly surveyed the crush below. But then Chanel has been around long enough to know that nothing very extraordinary was going on. Nothing but the Paris fall fashion showings--and the first glimpse of the season's changes.

The crucial issue, of course, was hemlines: Could the mini hold the short, short line against the downward tug of the midi and maxi forces? Would there be a repeat of 1947's New Look, plunging hems toward the ground--along with the hopes of girl watchers around the world? By week's end, who could tell? Some designers (Ungaro and Courreges) liked them short. Others (like Chanel, who calls the midi "awkward") prefer skirts that end at the bottom of the knee or at the ankle. Yves Saint Laurent is absolutely jenesais pas on the subject. He has a new long daytime look --straight cardigan suits that stop short just at the knee. For cover, he has a new new long daytime look--skirts only a foot off the floor, often topped by short "battle jackets." Dior's Marc Bohan, who started the midimania three years ago, has another go at the style. But this time his long skirts feature zippers running up the front: it is up to the lady, says Bohan, "to zip or unzip to the exact length she wants."

There are hints of the '30s, as in Chanel's navy wool smoking suit (complete with white starched shirt front and miniature black bow tie), and of the '40s, with Givenchy's languorous silver-fox coat. Saint Laurent goes way back: "It's 1890," he says of his patchwork evening dress with leg-of-mutton sleeves. He does not say which year inspired his black otter coat, appliqued on the back with a Somalia panther skin; whenever it was, the panther apparently had a bad time of it; he looks properly appalled at his fate.

Klee-Like Fabrics. For decolletage, Courreges stole the show. To go with his miniskirts held up by suspenders, his models displayed bare breasts. Not to be undone, Bohan's girls wore not a single bra and slithered unencumbered about the salon. Hardly unusual, perhaps, but one mannequin, wearing nothing but a black velvet sheath split straight up the front, caused Cecil Beaton to drop his pencil. "She looks as if she left the convent too soon," he gasped.

More gasps, this time from buyers, greeted Bohan's sleeveless coatdresses, his lavishly brocaded evening skirts and long evening coats. Most of the week's ohs and ahs, however, went to Emanuel Ungaro for his exquisitely tailored coats and suits and his hand-printed, vivid Klee-like fabrics. Ungaro's tiny showroom, lined with undulating aluminum screens, made a perfect setting for the designer's ankle-length gray evening cape. Decorated with three-inch-long pieces of aluminum tubing, the cape clicked when the model moved. Underneath, there was a matching aluminum bikini that would inspire anyone to test her mettle.

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