Byline: John Davidson

There's an ambitious British offensive under way this week. But, instead of cruise missiles and other armaments, it relies on the might of the imagination. And the target? Purses of wealthy women the whole world over. For the most creative forces in British fashion are no longer content to be London-centric micro-fashion houses. And their aspirations have outgrown remunerative contracts to design on a mercenary basis at prestigious establishment houses. Britain's starriest fashion names are now striving to achieve colossal levels of international recognition, reputation, and turnover for their own names, rather than those of deceased designers.

Step one, these days, in any bid for fashion world domination is a runway show in Paris. This explains the defections of Alexander McQueen and Hussein Chalayan to the

French capital this season - and why Paris was deemed the only suitable setting in which Stella McCartney could launch her Gucci-backed own-name line yesterday.

Of course, these three are far from the only expats in town. In fact, British talent seems to dominate this current week's fashion show calendar. Witness John Galliano, the dazzling driving force behind the regeneration of Christian Dior . . . Clements-Ribeiro, presenting their own utterly on-trend collection plus a more youthful line for Cacharel . . . Julien Macdonald, all set to show his Givenchy ready-to-wear collection on Wednesday, the same day that Phoebe Phillo (McCartney's erstwhile assistant) will present her debut collection for Chloe. Let's not forget that most subversive of British 60-year-olds, Vivienne Westwood. Or, for that matter, the dozens of young British designers who labour unnamed behind the scenes at major French fashion houses. Paris remains the capital city of fashion, but the Anglification of French fashion is a fashion fact. Yet no British name has quite as much to prove (or lose) this week as Stella McCartney. There have always been detractors who put her considerable commercial triumph at Chloe down to manipulation of that famous surname rather than innate talent. But that now seems either simplistic or downright unfair as McCartney's beguiling vintage-sexy vision for Chloe was every bit as personal as it was successful. And, as far as the famous surname is concerned, she has achieved a huge level of celebrity in her own right. In some eyes, Stella is now a much hotter property than Sir Paul. Ah, but can there be credible fashion life for McCartney beyond Chloe? Having already used so much of her own sweet self to give the French fashion name a contemporary relevance, how could the new Stella McCartney label balance creative integrity with that all-important point of difference?

The answer, she evidently felt, would be best expressed in cockney rhyming slang. That meant suits boldly identified with the word ''whistle''. And tiny cropped tops emblazoned with ''bristols''. Or bikini-briefs which read ''wet''. McCartney had aimed for the humour button. Only she missed, and hit the sleaze one instead. Little wonder that her ''Give peace a chance'' finale didn't quite achieve the anticipated poignancy.

McCartney is fortunate to have the financial might and marketing expertise of the mighty Gucci Group behind her. For, in a fashion world already awash with far too many pricey brands, these clothes are sure to prove a hard sell. Unless, that is, you've secretly always longed for an off-the-shoulder frock in electric blue sequins, or a unitard in cobalt lace. Unless, that is, you are captivated by the irony of spending a medium-sized fortune on looking really cheap. One year ago, luxury conglomerates such as LVMH, Gucci Group, and the mighty

Prada were battling for ownership of luxury marques. Some, such as Pegasus in the US and Gucci in Europe, even sought to bankroll new fashion marques. But, in a time of global economic slowdown, the extraordinary effort and vast investment required to achieve international recognition for a new brand registers in any analyst's assessment somewhere between futile and commercially irresponsible. In the present climate of uncertainty, you must wonder whether a designer who turns out a less-than-stellar collection can expect to have a happy future within a corporate structure. Even with that big Mac surname.

Alexander McQueen, now also backed by Gucci, discharged himself rather better. In his valiant attempt to take Paris and thereby the whole fashion world by storm, he cut much (if not all) of the theatrics which have made his previous shows the unequivocal highlight of each London Fashion Week. So there were no burning car wrecks, no motorised merry-go-rounds, and no model-drenching thunderstorms. Instead? Some vaguely discernible pornography projected on to a wall of dry-ice - an effect upstaged by a truly polished Spanish-themed collection with a strong sexual charge. McQueen had wisely sensed that a Paris show in this of all seasons had to focus on the clothes. At times, however, the sexual undercurrent threatened to bring those porn projections to life.

So many bare breasts sprouting from raggedy ruffled chiffon!

The masochistic tromp l'oeil nonsense of one model seemingly run-through with a picador's lances! McQueen has a nasty habit of referencing brutality with as little compunction as fellow designers use floral prints. Yet, such excesses apart, this was an exceptionally accomplished collection. McQueen's matador tailoring and quixotic interpretations of flamenco frills looked like the work of a world-class fashion star. For fashion with a tender, poetic quality, the world should now look to Hussein Chalayan. His show of pale, fragile, and precious threads stood at the opposite end of the taste spectrum from McCartney's cheesy sleaze. There is no doubt that Chalayan's clothes are beguilingly beautiful. But can he really hope to turn his near-art idea of fashion into a commercially successful brand?

Mmmm, maybe not. So it's possibly just as well for the sake of his long-term prosperity that Chalayan has been appointed as the creative director charged with turning Asprey, the celebrated London jeweller, into Britain's foremost luxury lifestyle brand.

It's a fascinating challenge, of course. And one for which he has already demonstrated a natural aptitude, not least through his design work for Tse, the cashmere specialist, in New York. But Chalayan will now be building a brand based on the Asprey heritage rather rolling out one of his own. Asprey may come to enjoy all the resonance of a premiere luxury marque such as Hermes - on which its new ambitions seem loosely modelled. But Chalayan's own label is surely destined to remain a costly personal indulgence.

Which makes McQueen, newly released from his contract at Givenchy, Britain's most convincing contender in the fight for fashion-world brand domination. Well, he always was the most ambitious Mac.

CAPTION(S):

FASHION FOLLY: ivory silk maxi-coat and cobalt stretch lace unitard from Stella McCartney's collection for spring-summer 2002, previewed yesterday in Paris. Picture: Jack Dabaghian / Reuters;STRAIGHT THROUGH THE HEART: Alexander McQueen's picador-lanced flamenco fashion victim.