For the past 50 years, just four western cities have dominated international fashion: London, Paris, Milan and New York. This little cluster operates as the style equivalent of the G7, perfectly content to wield their considerable power and none too interested in sharing power with anyone else. However, as the century draws to a close, this seems an opportune moment to re-evaluate the four's authority and question the current status quo. A number of centres have already tried to break free of the existing circuit.
A decade ago, Madrid made a powerful effort to add itself to the big four and, at least for a couple of seasons, appeared to be successful. The Portuguese have been pushing their menswear designers forward lately and Hong Kong is just one of several Asian cities keen to develop a global fashion profile.
Leading the field right now is Sydney, which staged its first Australian Fashion Week a mere three years ago. Since then, growth in domestic participation and international coverage alike has been steady. Australia's fashion week was consistently touted by locals as being now on a par with the likes of Paris or Milan. This is more indicative of the country's inherently youthful optimism than actual reality.
But Sydney has already acquired sufficient authority to lure some of the world's most authoritive buyers from stores such as Browns in London, Barney's of New York and Paris's Colette. They were all scouting for new labels to offer their clientele, concurring with Marcus Von Ackerman of French Vogue who explained he had travelled to Sydney in search of something fresh and exciting. The first, and perhaps most interesting, point to make is that neither he nor anyone else who had made the journey would have found anything extraordinarily different to what is being created at the moment elsewhere around the world. Fashion designers are not like some remote New Guinea tribe out of touch with the world and awaiting discovery by the global media and store buyers. They are part of a worldwide industry and fully aware of what is happening elsewhere.
Just as it would be near impossible to articulate a distinctively Irish style today, so Australian fashion is a hybrid of cross-cultural influences. As if to underline this, the collections in Sydney included shows by designers from China, England, Japan, Turkey and Italy, as well as an impressive New Zealand contribution. Indeed, word is that Australia's neighbour will be the next Belgium, source of so much fashion talent during the 1990s. If Australia wants to be an international rather than purely domestic player, then it must follow the rules of the international marketplace. Hence the feeling that much of what was being shown could have been seen almost anywhere else in the world. Naturally, there were certain features running through many collections suggesting the influence of the local consumer. Skirts were shorter than might be the case elsewhere, cropped and strapless tops turned up repeatedly and fabrics both in weight and colour tended towards the lighter end of the spectrum.
The explanation for all this is simple: the Australian climate. Warm, sunny weather almost throughout the year inevitably influences the country's designers. Right now, Sydney is heading into winter, but there is little outside to suggest that season as we know it. Here is what looks to be an insurmountable problem for Australian fashion: it is out of seasonal sync with the rest of the world. The clothes being shown were for next spring/summer which starts as our own ends. Either Sydney stages collections even further ahead than everyone else or it gives the impression of lagging behind.
Thanks to the nature of her work - in which lace and exquisite embroidery feature strongly regardless of season - this is not a problem for Australia's most internationally renowned designer, Collette Dinnegan. Such is her prestige that she was able to hold her show in the 19th-century neo-Gothic Governor's House to which only 100 guests were bidden. Opening with an enchanting tableau vivant as silk curtains were drawn aside, Dinnegan's collection had a strong orientalist quality throughout, evident in chinoiserie embroidery on satin and the use of gold-threaded sari silks.
Then there was the eastern vibrancy of her colours, in which apple green was combined with shocking pink and aqua blue beside dusty rose. As always, layering was a feature of the clothes, with lace being placed over silk and beaded net shifts or crystal-strewn cobweb dresses worn with capri pants and wrap skirts.
Collette Dinnegan might almost be considered to have started a trend in Australia, where many designers now demonstrate the same fondness for lavish embroidery and beading or net and lace. The supply of inexpensive labour in adjoining Asian countries makes this more feasible than elsewhere.
What is likely to prove just as influential is Dinnegan's decision taken some years ago to take her collection overseas: she now shows twice-yearly in Paris and as a result sells internationally (although not, despite her Irish parentage, in this country).
Next to follow her down that route will almost certainly be Kyoto-born Akira Isogawa, who plans to have a showroom in Paris next October. Last year, his clothes were bought by Joan Burstein of Browns where they sold exceptionally well and garnered plenty of press attention. This time, Mrs Burstein was widely reported as describing Isogawa's collection as "an emotional experience", which is probably something of an overly enthusiastic response but there is no doubt the designer has a fresh talent.
Given his origins, Isogawa understandably displays the traditional Japanese interest in folding and wrapping of clothes, together with asymmetrical hems and unusual juxtaposition of fabrics. So, pleated kimono tops would be shown with raw calico beneath, and a halter-neck apron in midnight velvet worn over a flesh-coloured georgette dress.
Prints ranged from Damien Hirst-style coloured spots to kinetic swirls, while surface decoration included crystal beading and box-pleating. Akira Isogawa looks set to become one of the next decade's fashion names; such was the demand to see his collection after the show that a buyer from Henri Bendel in New York could only get a 10 p.m. appointment.
Almost as highly feted was , a New Zealand company with distinctly Belgian sympathies - both Dries Van Noten and Martin Margiela sprung to mind during a rather over-styled show, but at times so too did London's Margaret Howell. Tunic, shift and pinafore dresses, cap-sleeved shirts and deconstructed jackets all layered together were the norm here within a palette of grey, black and white.
Another New Zealand favourite - although with a totally different sensibility - was Wallace Rose, where romanticism came to the fore thanks to embroidered Chinese silk crepe dresses and jackets, more elaborately beaded pieces, blood red silk taffeta skirts and abstract floral devore velvet shifts.
Just as pretty was the well-established, popular Sydney label , with clothes every bit as charming as its name. Baby blue and pale pink tones were to the fore for floral sprigged dresses with ruched sleeves and lace twinsets, while paper taffeta and panne velvet, together with beaded net were used for eveningwear.
Prettiness of the Tea Rose variety is something Australian designers often manage very well, which should stand them in good stead as minimalist dressing now goes into retreat in favour of old-style femininity.
The alternative in Sydney was hard-edged, upfront sexiness. None too subtle, it is true, but then sex sells as some of the country's most successful names demonstrated. There was the self-explanatory , in which maximum exposure of flesh and minimum use of fabric produced a multitude of slip dresses and tops. Londoner Wayne Cooper served up slightly more refined sensuality, with some particularly, fine white watered silk boxy jackets and pencil skirts to the knee (a favourite length among Australian designers right now), scoop-necked jersey dresses and satin shifts.
Then there was Peter Morrissey, who seemed to garner as much attention thanks to his new business partner - a millionaire stock-broker called Rene Rivkin who invited selected international attendees at fashion week onto his yacht for a trip around Sydney harbour - as for his clothes. Perhaps that is because the latter offered nothing remotely new, although anything from the intensely commercial Morrissey collection would look terrific on a toned and tanned body, thanks to sharp cutting and the use of fabrics such as stretch jersey, lurex and satin. This is international dressing, as much at home in St Tropez as Bondi. In that respect, Sydney is already the match of New York or Milan because it has a sufficient number of designers who understand what the consumer wants and are more than willing and able to satisfy the demand.
The city is also home - if only during fashion week - to a number of truly original talents but whether it can hang onto these or whether they will be drawn to one of the existing centres still remains unclear. In order to break the mould and set itself up as a rival to the big four, Sydney must discourage home-grown talent from moving abroad. Otherwise, it will only be the nursery for designers who go on to bloom elsewhere.