The bare-faced chic of X-rated Peter

PETER Lau's hair is now very, very long. Otherwise, nothing much has changed. The designer whose definition of ''feminine beauty'' breeds the suspicion that his fashion research is much fortified by X-rated movies and Frederick of Hollywood catalogues, is still at it. That is, clothes fit for those euphemistically known as ''working girls''.

Working women tend to take a different view of them. Or rather views, as the males who flocked to see Lau's latest collection, would observe.

Amazing how many men in this town are into women's fashion, a newcomer to the Hong Kong ragtrade might have thought, eyeing the wall-to-wall crush at the Excelsior Hotel's Top of the Town nightclub the other evening.

The opening segment of Lau's show cast instant light on this phenomenon. Out pranced a flock of leggy young things looking like the Ukrainian Folk Dance Troupe from the neck up. As for the rest - waah!.

Fashion as voyeurism is not new, but few are as single-minded as Lau when it comes to exposing most of what bounces and jiggles (or in the case of catwalk models, occasionally experiences minor tremors).

This preoccupation with the female body as an object for carnal fantasies has brought Lau a certain notoriety: Hong Kong's ''sexy'' designer. It has also firmly typecast him. A Peter Lau collection which doesn't titillate? Absurd.

There is nothing in Lau's Autumn/ Winter 94 range for his XCVIII label to threaten his reputation. As always, the seasonal categorisation is largely irrelevant - brave the cold in most of these outfits at your own risk - and all is secondary to that one-track approach to fashion.

A few items almost escape it. Team Lau's pinstriped charcoal grey jackets and lusty-wench white cotton blouses with a long classic skirt instead of cutaway briefs and naughty stockings, and you have a fetchingly feminine ensemble. Similarly, several tops in his Chinese section with its rich silk brocades, would work nicely with otherwise simple evening separates, while his ''winter garden'' jackets with their appliqued flora are both pretty and striking.

Otherwise, there is little to tempt the woman who would rather not be asked to name her price and even less for those who believe clothes should be comfortable, functional and versatile.

Also losing out are the fashion-conscious. Not only is Lau late with his ''new'' deconstructed look (lengths of sheer fabric knotted here and there, worn with bikini briefs and lace bras or corselets), but his themes - Victoriana, Imperial China, military and the ''ancient slave trade'' - are neither fresh nor in step with the 90s woman, especially in conservative, business-minded Hong Kong.

For the new season, Lau offers only one jacket with minor variations. It is a modified hacking jacket, nipped in at the waist and flared at the hips, with the back slit high for maximum exposure. Lau likes little tartan knickers with them; better yet, bare bottoms.

His favourite skirt is ballet-practise style and comes in only one length: micro-mini. There are also tiny apron skirts and a few long numbers that are slashed to the hip bone.

''Military'' means much the same in red and black, while in deference to cold climes, there are various tops trimmed with what looks like faux white fox.

For evening, Lau allows himself to be romantic - some wood nymph numbers, plus the floral tributes. Otherwise, there are various exercises in deconstruction such as a sheer draped gown with the skirt-front dipped low enough to expose high-cut striped briefs. It would take a brave woman to wear it and then only for a sizeable bet.

In time-honoured tradition, the show ended with a bride - this one in sinful red. By then, the initial excitement had long evaporated.

''So much repetition,'' sighed one spectator. ''After a while, I found it, well - boring.''