Colin McDowell reviews Future Beauty: 30 Years of Japanese Fashion

So, finally. Thirty years after Japanese fashion designers hit the west like a wave of Kamikaze pilots, London has an exhibition of their work - and one that is neither patronising to those ignorant of the aesthetic of this unique fashion approach nor demeaning to the informed. This is the show that reveals all - the depth and originality of the unique aesthetic of the Japanese way of dress - and unravels the mystery. 

Not surprising, really, as the Barbican's show features clothes from the legendary collection of The Kyoto Costume Institute, a fact immediately apparent as you walk through the door and see the quality of what is on display. You absolutely know that this is an exhibition of effortless authority. As curator Catherine Ince says of the exhibition, ''it is very much a Japanese concept and it has been a fabulous privilege to see these magnificent garments coming out of their boxes."

From the very first garment, you get the sense that you are in an almost holy place - calm, cool and perfectly landscaped to show the clothes almost as sculpture or a physical manifestation of Zen thought. 

The ground floor displays are grouped into interacting but separate areas, linked by semi-sheer transparent layers of diaphanous material that cast a soft silver light. Modern and yet as old as Japanese culture in its effects, these floating screens immediately remind us of the emphasis on material that is at the root of the Japanese aesthetic and is seen in dress through the use of utilitarian and even 'poor' ones - felt, boiled wool, nylon, polyester - even for statement dresses - of which there are many at the Barbican. 

The layers of silvery grey guide you around and through the exhibits, loosely grouped in sections that address certain constants in the Japanese approach to fashion, such as In Praise of Shadows or Flatness. This is a show of subtleties even when the clothes are glowing red or radiant yellow - and the shapes are miraculous in the boldness of their engineering.  But there is black, of course - isn't that what frightened us all to death when the designers first showed in the early eighties? - and white and every soft and understated tone in between.

Upstairs, there are rooms devoted to individual designers and it is here that you realise that Japanese design, although informed by a unique sensibility, is not all the same; is definitely not confined to ripped and torn fabrics; and is as witty as it is serious. This is where the stars of the Japanese movement are to be found. Issey Miyake, bold and original as ever with his geometric experiments with intricately folded polygons of recycled polyethylene terephthalate in dark earth colours sparked with iridescent dragonfly shine, all cut with miraculous precision. 

Next is Rei Kawakubo, earth mother of Japanese modernism, whose help has made possible many of Japan's new wave designers, including Junya Watanabe, now one of its top international stars. Kawakubo's Commes des Garçons label started with a uniquely personal aesthetic thirty years ago and she has never deviated from her own standards of a controlled but voluptuous elegance that is not at variance with a sharp social observation and a witty way of expressing it. Scale, boiled fabrics, deconstruction: her endless experiments questioning the boundaries of what fashion can achieve lead her into areas undreamed of by designers in the west and always produce a result that is perfect. 

Kawakubo’s fellow traveller on the long road of Japanese modernity that they first stepped on in 1982 is, of course, Yohji Yamamoto, whose white felt garment on display at the Barbican is the masterpiece of the show, cut and curled with the total authority of a canvas by Fontana. Its understated elegance would surely have made Cristóbal Balenciaga weep with joy at its total perfection. Nothing so beautifully cut and consummately understated has been seen since the height of that Spaniard's experiments in the fifties. Move on to Jun Takahashi and Tao Kurihara and your admiration of the Japanese aesthetic gently turns to adoration.

You leave this exhibition elated and wanting more. But also with a sense of despair for Western fashion and especially the clueless young designers whose idea of creativity seems only too often to rip off last season's bestseller, with no personal aesthetic or even creative curiosity on their own part.  I urge them - and anyone interested in any aspect of design, fashion or art - to go to this miraculous exhibition and learn. 

Colin McDowell is a fashion historian and author of many books on the subject, including Fashion Today