Grand Audio Car Visual: Marc Jacobs Spring 2009

Pledging Allegiance By CATHY HORYN

To some extent all runway shows are a journey, if only down the runway toward Next Season. So it might seem strange or sentimental or possibly both to call Marc Jacobs’s show on Monday night, with its inspired view of American women, a journey. But that is the only way to see it.

For there has been a lot of discussion this year about women and their vote, about who represents them best, tells their stories hardest. And maybe it is not all that surprising that Mr. Jacobs, a supporter of Hillary Clinton, seemed to be focusing his creative beam on the early part of the 20th century, when women not only demanded the right to vote but also took over traditional roles of men, who were fighting in World War I.

That was the era evoked by the models’ squashed if determined-looking boaters, their school ma’am jackets and modified suffragist skirts (gathered up to show some leg). The difficulty and delight of looking at Mr. Jacobs’s shows is trying to figure out what he is up to. His collections used to seem a large, unsorted lot of references; they are less so today. But a single strong gesture like the batty hats (by the magical Stephen Jones) can stop a fashion Kremlinologist cold and lead to weird conclusions. Some editors said they saw Mary Poppins.

Maybe because many designers don’t put enough thought into their collections to warrant our curiosity, much less our investigation, the broader associations Mr. Jacobs offers aren’t readily apparent. In certain respects, the metallic floral prints, the soft turbans and tunic tops — including one in white taffeta embroidered with shimmery leaves — evoked a 1930s glamour. And Stefan Beckman’s mirrored set, which featured a curved wall of doors, led some to think of Golden Age movies like “The Women.” The hard-core fashionistas saw a connection to Yves Saint Laurent’s 1978 “Broadway Suit” collection and its references to Afro-American culture.

In fact the music — George Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue” — told us a lot. The high styling of relatively modest clothes like a faded plaid blouse with a brooch and a jaunty brocade skirt suggested a black aesthetic. And the mix of gingham tops and apronlike tunics recalled not merely the common threads of working women, black or white, but also their drift through the dirty ’30s from country to city. It was an era lifted by hope rather than aspiration.

To be able to evoke those images and emotions without resorting to caricatures, to connect fashion at the liveliest levels to the things we value, is what makes Mr. Jacobs a remarkable designer. He is the best we have. As André Leon Talley, the editor at large at Vogue, said backstage, explaining Mr. Jacobs’s edge, “He makes his own rules, and he breaks them.”

Jamie Bochert