THINGS have changed since I was last here. The London Designer Collections have moved to the Natural History Museum, though fashions are not mingling with fossils but come in endless supply inside two plastic buildings, no doubt disposable after the last swish of silk.
Many of the big names, the ones that once drew the crowds, have gone from the catwalks. No Vivienne Westwood, the Queen Bee of British fashion, or Katherine Hamnett, the rebel, no John Galliano or Jasper Conran. Most are in Paris, though Westwood promises to return next season.
The void has been quickly filled and the talent is hot, young and putting London back as a prime trend setter. Some 1,500 buyers are attending the 35 shows. It's the fourth biggest industry and, with textiles, is worth £17 billion a year.
It's the fresh from college kids who are causing the buzz. Leader of the pack is Alexander McQueen, a generous and gentle person by all accounts who describes himself as a working class lad among the toffs. Then there are the less strident talents of Antonio Berardi, Hussein Chalayan and Clements Ribeiro, all yet to show.
Momentum is building. Amanda Wakeley, Tomas Starzewsky, Roland Klein and Red or Dead have shown, setting the scene for a softly coloured, starkly simple way of dressing for spring. There's a bit of Middle Eastern and Far Eastern feel to it. Almost everything is long and stately, though there is much seeking around for somewhere to bare.
But who can better McQueen's last collections, whose "bumster" (bare bottom) collection caused uproar and delight? Now it's more bare midriffs, shoulders and backs; not nearly as exciting. Though the winner of the Designer of the Year Award will not be known for some weeks, those on the shortlist are Vivienne Westwood, John Galliano, Alexander McQueen, Clements Ribeiro, Hussein Chalayan and Pearce Fionda. I put my money on McQueen.