What does a city do when the hype has faded, when the fanfare is muted and when its new-found fame as the focus of all that is cool has lost its lustre? If that city is London, it mostly succeeds in lingo vaguely reminiscent of Clinton-speak of rising to the challenge.
Cool Britannia is now yesterday's buzz billing. Two years ago, London was a land rich with opportunities for creative expression. Every aspect of cultural life in the city was making headlines: its fashion (Alexander McQueen, John Galliano), its music (Oasis, the Spice Girls, Jarvis Cocker), its art (Damien Hirst), its pop literature (Wallpaper, The Face ). Ultimately, all the fuss left London with a lot to live up to.
But as the recent round of London designer shows for spring/summer 1999 revealed, the zeal that once defined London style has deflated or, in terms Hong Kong can no doubt understand, has dropped to realistic levels. Instead of riding high on a wave of novelty and gratuitous attention, London designers have discovered they still need to work hard for their money and column centimetres.
From those heady first seasons following London's renaissance as a fashion capital, the industry has acquired a new gravity. Next month, the city will hold its first fashion forum, during which manufacturers, retailers and designers will discuss ways to maximise England's potential as an upscale fashion producer.
But the acid test before collections hit the stores, anyway, is always on the catwalks. And the challenge for designers during London Fashion Week, which ended on Tuesday, was to prove their skills were more expansive than simply putting on a great show.
The fashion critics and buyers filling seats at the catwalk events agreed the season's shows were patchy, with many designers regurgitating last season's commercial successes (shades of grey, easy layering, embroidery, minimalist silhouettes).