“Le monument au général alvéar”—Antoine Bourdelle’s life-size statue of the Argentinian independence movement leader on his steed—stands majestically in the center of the Musée Bourdelle’s Salle des Plâtres (Plaster Room). The Général has always been guarded by marble, allegorical figures of Eloquence and Force, but this time, on a white headless mannequin, tucked between them, hung a white, asymmetrical dress with multiple folds and pleats protruding from the waist and bodice. There was a simple marking at the base: “Collection 1945 Jersey Dress.” In the nearby rotunda, above a circular staircase where the “Centaure mourant” lays dead, were hung two more white jersey dresses encased in frames. It is the work of Madame Grès, née Germaine Krebs (1903-1993), and it certainly says a lot that the exhibition was here—in open air and beneath glass in the museum/former residence of one of France’s most revered sculptors.
    Madame Grès: La Couture à l’Oeuvre was the first ever retrospective of Madame Grès’ five decades of couture work, and the presentation, since closed, dominated conversations at the Fall/Winter Paris couture shows last July. It even eclipsed chatter about the first non-Galliano showing of Dior couture. Curated by the Musée Galliera in conjunction with the Musée de la Mode de la Ville de Paris—and containing pieces from the archive collection of the designer Azzedine Alaïa—the show consisted of 80 outfits that spanned the entire career of the decorated designer. Dresses, day and evening, from 1942 to 1980 were arranged in near-chronological order, magnifying the notion that as fashion and the world changed around her, the designer steadfastly remained committed to her distinct methods and styles. A dark orange silk dress with three-tiered folding and brown ribbons stood in Bourdelle’s preserved studio, and a series of black dresses graced the sculptor’s bedroom.
    Each Madame Grès dress is so intricate that only a close examination can really reveal the construction details. One dress reveals knotted silks and jerseys which the designer reduced from three meters into a mere seven centimeters by way of hand pleating. Silk and jersey evening dresses from the 1950s to the 1970s demonstrate the utterly slow evolution of her design—the simpler earlier dresses evolved into similar creations, but with elaborate cutouts exposing parts of the torso—a sign of looser, more relaxed times. But, in the end, Madame Grès never betrayed the intent of creating clothes to emphasize a woman’s femininity.
    Grès was eternally bound to the arts. She studied sculpture and had hoped to become a ballerina. Before opening her couture house under the pseudonym Alix in 1932—it became Madame Grès in 1942 in concert with her husband’s art moniker—she started as a hat maker. Madame Grès’ early bias cut and draped Hellenist dresses, first seen in her costumes for the 1935 Jean Giraudoux play La guerre de Troie n’aura pas lieu, became a foundation for the clothes she made throughout her career.
    Innovative construction techniques and craftsmanship permeated her work from the early dresses described above to her later, more experimental pieces, such as the black silk organza dress from 1977, with a vertical opening extending from the front bodice and folding out to the sides. Similar to the construction of non-Western clothing, the dresses were less structured to allow the free movement of clothes on a body—an essence of modernity in fashion. A short-sleeved, high-shouldered crewneck Femina dress from 1946 displayed in Bourdelle’s apartment looks as current today as it must have then.
    That so many designers today cite Madame Grès as an inspiration isn’t much of a surprise. She made clothing according to her own vision rather than surrendering to the vicissitudes of fashion. But can Madame Grès’ approach to design and her ethos—antithetical to today’s couture and ready-to-wear—influence designers to return to the old model of making timeless clothes? This is highly unlikely as the propensity to promote, and the exigency for stagecraft, have upstaged any innovation in fashion. Rarely do designers try and solve the problems of dressing contemporary women whose lives are constantly evolving.
    For established houses like Chanel, Dior, or Givenchy, and for younger talents such as Alexandre Vauthier or Julien Fournié (whose studios I visit as they are frantically finishing their collections a few days before their shows), translating couture’s traditions and crafts into today’s fashion language remains a challenge.
    “This season, my fifth collection, is called First Mutation,” Julien Fournié says early Saturday morning, three days before his show. Over croissants and orange juice in his fourth floor apartment behind the Palais Brongniart stock exchange, Mr. Fournié continues, “In my work and in my life, everything is in the process of mutating. I am in the process of a research into financial backing for a ready-to-wear collection. I really love haute couture as it is a laboratory of experimentation, but at certain times, I want to see my clothes on the street, and thus, more accessible. This collection is less edgy, so to speak, than the others. I looked around in our society and I find that people are looking for more durable things like taking time for oneself, eating bio foods, et al. Life is very fast now and so are women’s attitudes towards clothes.”
    In Mr. Fournié’s hallway hang two racks overfilled with clothing in a various state of completion. In the kitchen, four seamstresses are busy sewing and embroidering on two large temporary tables, each working on different garments. It is certainly being constructed, but how does one tackle the concept of making clothes for the modern woman? “A woman today can go to work, then go get the kids at school, make money, and seduce her husband,” Mr. Fournié explained. “The clothes have to be actual and in accordance with their sensibilities, weaknesses, and desires. You have to wear couture like you wear jeans and sneakers.”
    Translating this into a collection can be tricky. “In the 21 looks for the show,” said Mr. Fournié, “I made 21 pants with dresses that can go on top—a new way of translating evening clothes—the pants, the dress that she can pull up and put her hands in the pockets, the jackets. I decided not to make extreme high heels or pointed heels because they have little to do with women’s lives. This time, it’s flat shoes mounted on small platform heels.
    “Made in France,” Mr. Fournié exclaims as the door swings open, introducing a member of his team. “This is Ambraude. She does all the hand paintings you see on the clothes.” Mr. Fournié then takes a pair of milk chocolate Jodhpur pants with twists down the legs and a camel lace shirt. “And this is worn with a light suede jacket. Or this trompe l’oeil smoking jacket made with Japanese fabrics can be worn over this silk jersey pant as well. And this here’s a suede flower collar jacket with embroideries on the body made like origami crochet and leather strings that took a month-and-a-half to finish.” On the mannequin to our right, there is a white silk jersey dress with sheer sides and strings of patent leather strips at the bottom. “I cut these and sewed them myself, because in couture there still has to be a certain fabrication and handiwork, which is absent in ready-to-wear.”
    Mr. Fournié has more modern ideas in the works, too. “I signed a contract since last season with Dassault Systèmes to create the Fashion Lab, a design platform for the future where designers can draw in 3D. Remember the video that opened the last show with the red dress? We are working developing a creative hub in 3D where one can design virtual models and then produce real products. The innovation here is that I can figure out what I would need from each of the fabrics, buttons, or any other materials from the program we design. Even with the aid of new technology and information, I cannot forget the traditional skills of couture. Tradition and future innovation.”
    Around the corner, Madame Jacqueline, Mr. Fournié’s master d’atelier, is working on an evening dress that she reluctantly shows me, explaining it is far from complete. I try to figure out what the dress is without success. “I have to keep some looks a surprise for the show,” says Mr. Fournié with a smile.
    Moments later, Mr. Fournié’s mother arrives. “I want to present Mrs. Fournié,” he says with a laugh. “She came to give us vitamins!”
    Forget physical health; is couture alive and well? “Couture is coming back in a new way,” opines Mr. Fournié. “We keep the traditions while we innovate with new technical materials. Oh, but looking at a show like Chanel, it’s so beautiful that it’s beyond fashion. There are many young people who are choosing to design couture at this moment. And the federation is inducting new members who are in need of support. People even younger than me with an eye on design are getting into couture now. We are learning the business side as well, as you can’t make a couture house in five years. More like 10 years to create a style, 10 years to do the business, and 10 years to have fun. And after that, it’s finished. You have to let it go.”
    Three days later, in an underground passage-cum-nightclub beneath the majestic Alexandre III Bridge, Mr. Fournié’s mutations are on full display. His clothes mix sheer organza and leather—a sleeveless jacket with a billowing tulle shirt—while leather pants and an organza waist skirt give the clothes an urban feel. The surprise dress is a padded-shouldered, sleeveless, zippered leather body suit with sheer organza pants, both fluid in fit and embellished with crystals.
    Mr. Fournié leaves a unique impression—what he’s set out to accomplish isn’t couture in the traditional sense. His clothing is not on the same luxury level an average customer might expect. Instead, he is combining his admiration for traditional craft with today’s differing needs, reflecting progressive lives and societies.

*    *    *

    The next afternoon, I maneuver around the throngs clustered outside the Louis Vuitton building and continue to Alexandre Vauthier’s studio/showroom on a quiet street off Avenue George-V. The door opens into a hallway with a full-length mirror at its end. Beside it, a rack hosts black and blue sequined dresses and a black top with cone-like sleeves. These are from Mr. Vauthier’s Spring collection.
    Much like Mr. Fournié’s apartment space, the living space is blanketed with pieces in progress—atop the darkly tanned leather sofa behind Mr. Vauthier’s large wooden desk are four neatly draped, long, white chiffon panels, each partially embroidered with glass crystals. “Everything is red,” he says as we look at the fitting Polaroids he has lined up on his desk, along with sketches and fabric swatches, “except for the bride of course.”
    At Mr. Vauthier’s January show, singer Keren Ann tells me that one of the designer’s best childhood friends from Bordeaux, Doriand—a music writer who has worked with many French singers—had recently introduced them. The meeting resulted in a collaboration on one of Ann’s videos. She believes that Mr. Vauthier gives a great spirit to Paris couture. “Absolutely,” she attests, “you can tell that he loves women. You can see it in the cut of the clothes; he’s very inspiring. Today, we have shows like Mad Men and others that are inspired by ’50s fashion. I think, for Alexandre, it’s about extreme classic mixed with extreme futurism. He has a very good taste for textures and I’m always fascinated by how he works those textures. Beyond being a good designer is also being a designer that knows how to create a piece that a woman will feel good in. He’s a master of that for this generation. Many designers have great ideas, but I don’t know about the level of comfort of their clothes.”
    While fashion today is less about design and “the woman” and more about marketing, Mr. Vauthier regards both design and a sense for femininity with equal respect. “I completely agree,” Keren Ann remarks. “Alexandre is definitely about the woman, such as putting the right curves in front, and also making the piece flattering. He has a way of working shoulder lines, pants, and cat suits that are always very flattering and very feminine with a slight rock edge to it. I think it’s the right blend. For me, he’s definitely above all.”
    Back in Mr. Vauthier’s studio, he smiles at the suggestion from his musician friend Doriand that he is amongst a new generation of Parisian designers. Doriand has also let on another secret: that Mr. Vauthier is fond of fine filet beef and red wine. Mr. Vauthier allows an even bigger smile at the reveal, saying with laughter of the two’s growing up in the French wine region: “We were all the same group in Bordeaux!”
    Mr. Vauthier turns his attention back to a sleeveless padded tank dress, beaded with sequins, which he pulls from the rack. “The body [of this dress] is like a reinforced vest for fencing and it is worn with a light silk skirt. And here are some swimsuits, and you will see them with heels not flip-flops. And here’s a short skirt that goes with this bolero. In essence, the collection revolves around the different colors of blood.” He points out the different hues, from the dark red fox fur coat with a cinched waist to the lighter shade of a short silk-satin dress.
    “It’s really about the marriage of the past with the present in terms of volumes and materials,” Vauthier continues. “It’s modern, but with the techniques of couture like this double-sided satin. This time, the shoulders are less pronounced and these big sleeves soften the clothes. I listen to what people say and I am evolving my cuts. It’s the same woman, but she may have different desires. It’s a wink to old couture. I am also expanding the knitwear. And the shoes are specially made to correspond to each look.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               “Over there,” Mr. Vauthier says, pointing in the direction of his couch, “is the only outfit that is not red.” Four pieces of a dress are laid out. “In fact, we are waiting for the shoulder collar, which is a crystallized metal carcass, and the four chiffon pieces are sewn around it. It’s like the shoulder pad for American football.”
    Nearly on cue, a messenger arrives, accompanied by one of Mr. Vauthier’s assistants. As he enters the room with the sparkling metal football shoulder pads, there is a momentary gasp. The next step: the runway.
    At Mr. Vauthier’s show, set in the library of the Lycée Henri-IV—are gowns with low-cut V-necklines and high shoulders, dresses with billowing sleeves and deeply split fronts, a V-neck pantsuit with falling lapels, and a long sleeve draped dress with a long train. There is an air of familiarity and a modicum of newness. Finally, the crystal embroidered ivory chiffons, only days ago in pieces on his sofa, are interwoven around the sparkling shoulder pad, plunging down into a long dress. The look dramatically closes the collection.
    Parti pris loosely translates to “position taken.” This is what Mr. Vauthier’s friends call his obsession with the Alexis Carrington Dynasty-era. The designer has stuck with a wide shouldered look that has steadfastly become the signature around which he is building his couture and (soon) ready-to-wear business. Like any designer, he has to establish a familiar silhouette before commencing to alter it.

*   *    *
    At last July’s most anticipated show, which opened three breakneck days of Paris couture, Bill Gayten, the studio director temporarily assuming the designer post at Dior, unveiled a collection of gazaar, chiffon, and taffeta gowns based loosely on modern architecture (say, Frank Gehry and Jean-Michel Frank) in light pastel confections. Even with a few sneaky nods to the Dior legacy—a pink-elbowed Bar jacket over a yellow and ice blue folded organza skirt—the show lacked the poetic beauty and imagination of those under John Galliano.
    Clearly, the skills of the Dior’s atelier were omnipresent. But couture isn’t only about skills. It’s about the translation of these skills into a cohesive and imaginative collection. For the past few seasons, by dispensing with the runway for his couture presentation format, Givenchy’s Riccardo Tisci has excelled at honing his work with the atelier. His collection of 10 ethereal looks, mostly white, was a ceremony of craftsmanship all the way down to the smallest details, such as pearl-encrusted crystals strategically placed on a pattern to deflect lights, and dégradé curled feathers that supposedly took 2,000 hours to complete.
    Other highlights: commencing at 10:30 in the evening, under the starry sky beneath the glass dome of the Grand Palais, Karl Lagerfeld magically recreated a miniature Place Vendôme—complete with shop lights, recalling “Les Allures de Chanel.” Lagerfeld’s nod to the style, transgressive in its embrace of both the androgynous and the unreservedly feminine, was exacting. This season’s dark and somber clothes encompassed a range of classic Chanel looks: tweeds with large shoulders and ample knee length skirts, flowing silk-velvet dresses decorated with hand-painted, multi-colored plumes, a sparkling metallic blue dress of bubbles, crushed ceramics squares, and black feathers, all showcasing the meticulous work of the Chanel atelier.
    Finally, as you’ll see featured in the following pages: Azzedine Alaïa. The designer told Le Monde Magazine that his first showing in eight years was not really a couture show, but “simply pieces from Fall/Winter collection—leathers, suits, and dresses—that I did not want to incorporate into the main line because they are simply very expensive and dignified [enough] to be called haute couture.”
    The presentation, at Mr. Alaïa’s showroom in the Marais, made no references to past history and no inspirations were mentioned. The designer’s techniques have become synonymous with his motifs and inventions, and his skills are surely unmatched by any designer working today. Simply said, his is a purity of form and craft: a black velvet, laser-cut flare dress was reinforced with metallic hip padding, shaped like tropical plant leaves, lifting the bottom of the dress above the floor; a classic, rounded-shoulder, bell-shaped coat-dress in patent crocodile had pieces of leather indentations sewn in from beneath; a long black dress followed the contours of the model’s body, zippered with a high-collar neckline, and ending with 10 layers of ruffles.
    A quote from Madame Grès’ exhibition literature echoed in my mind: “For a dress to survive from one era to the next, it must be marked by simplicity.” It easily conjures Mr. Alaïa’s patience and devotion to his métier. I think of his long-sleeved knit dress with folds around the hips. I think of his flare-shouldered A-line coats with inverted hip pleats. These are the garments that will survive from now to the next era. “For so many years,” Mr. Alaïa has said, “I am sitting among my seamstresses, in front the sewing machine, just exactly like them.”