A flustered look at the world of fashion where the haute in couture no longer prevails via the last collection of Marie-Victoire Forval (sometimes reminiscently spelled Chanel) is to be viewed. During a few days when everyone seems to be affected except Marie-Victoire's pooch Popoff: her homosexual designer has lost his touch as well as his petit ami; a mannequin suicides; her daughter has a nearly fatal curettage; and Marie-Victoire has fallen in love with Oliver from Dallas who is able ""to waken every fiber of her womb"" at an age when she's still lucky to have one. The show goes on, even bombs (oh that Eugenia Sheppard); is seen again by the buyers down to Korvette's; and at the end Marie-Victoire is ready to give up the world of elegance -- since it no longer exists -- for marriage to Oliver and Dallas and no doubt slumming at Neiman Marcus. Let it be said that Mme. Dariaux knows the scene but it's still hairdryer reading. For those who still have hairdos.