Coals To Newcastle

Paris still wears its crown as queen of fashion, though in recent years others have tried to knock it off. But no one ever challenged Parisian dressmakers' sovereignty over Parisians themselves--until last week. At the Printemps department store, a sort of French Macy's, Parisian women who used to snigger at British "tow sack" styles were causing a mild riot, buying English dresses almost as fast as they could be shipped in, despite a 52% French duty. The wool dresses were ordinary, low-priced utility numbers that could be bought off the peg in modest shops in Birmingham or Liverpool. In Paris none sold for more than 10,000 francs ($28.50).

A canny British dress manufacturer, Leslie Berker, and his designer, Norman Hartnell--who styles the royal family--invaded the land of haute couture in its softest spot, the middle-class Frenchwoman who can't afford the steep price of Parisian designers and usually makes her own clothes or wrangles with wrangly little dressmakers. French firms that manufacture readymade medium-priced dresses were caught with their patterns down.

From Berker's twelve-acre factory in Plymouth came 3,000 wool dresses in 24 sizes (the French offer only eight) that had been snatched up by a Printemps buyer, Prince Alexander Galitzine. "The styles are in sober taste," he carefully explained, "but go well with gay French accessories." Bestselling color: post-office red. Bestselling style: red wool bodice with red and black check skirt.

A few Parisian women haughtily called the imports a "catastrophe of bad taste" and suitable only for "very young girls and fat women"--but that didn't stop the buying. "A new era has begun," burbled a fashion writer. At first Designer Hartnell thought it would be like "delivering a million tons of coal to Newcastle." Berker said: "We are there to stay." Parisian customers conceded: "Those English have a way with wool."

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