Out of style.

It was the year Isaac Mizrahi and Todd Oldham closed up shop. So where's the fun in fashion?

Last spring Isaac Mizrahi, the designer who once brought out a clothing line inspired by Nanook of the North, was in characteristic form. Showing his fall '98 collection at the enormous Manhattan Center Hammerstein Ballroom, Mizrahi displayed his love for both gorgeous, vivid color (fuchsia and lilac) and inspired jokes (a ball gown paired with a matching baby carrier). And in a completely unorthodox move, Mizrahi asked his models to leave their usually dour looks backstage, sending out Amber, Shalom, and company with, of all ridiculous things, smiles spread across their faces.

Six months later Mizrahi was out of business. And although this was not exactly a cause-and-effect situation, it is a cautionary tale. Rag-trade observers are beginning to wonder whether there's room left in the fashion business for humor and light-heartedness--let alone good old-style camp. "Fashion has become so fascist," says fantastical French designer Thierry Mugler. "Everything looks the same. If you don't have the straight little gray coat and the right skirt just the same length ... They all look like nurses."

Indeed, just three weeks after Mizrahi shut down operations, Todd Oldham announced that he too was shuttering his high-end collection. Though his jeans line will continue, denim pants are a far cry from the over-the-top-and-back-again creations Oldham used to launch down the runway. Often inspired by the kitschy Americana of flea markets and trailer parks, Oldham's shows were riots of pattern and print, crystal and bead, fake fur and real T and A.

Fashion week won't be the same without them. When Mizrahi and Oldham first came on the scene in the late '80s, they rocked Seventh Avenue, helping create both the supermodel craze and celebrity-filled front rows. Openly gay and full of personality, both became media stars: Oldham on MTV's fashion series House of Style and Mizrahi in 1995's documentary film Unzipped, directed by his then-boyfriend Douglas Keeve. "Definitely it's a loss of a lot of excitement and a lot of creativity," says Sandra Bernhard, one of Mizrahi's best friends.

The pair's businesses, however, didn't grow as fast as their visibility. And neither was able to launch the all-important cash cow of fashion, a signature perfume. "High-end fashion is not much of a business," says Faye Landes, a retail analyst at Salomon Smith Barney. Adds designer John Bartlett, "It's a sobering wake-up call. Todd and Isaac were the highest-profile designers around. We learned that that doesn't necessarily translate into dollars."

One problem is that fashion itself has changed. With the rise of Prada, Gucci, Helmut Lang, and Jil Sander, a more uniformed, serious atmosphere has overtaken the style world. The frivolity of French couture is considered passe. The most chic clothes are utilitarian, priced beyond means: Hermes sneakers, Ralph Lauren silk cargo pants, Marc Jacobs cashmere sweats. "Everything is so minimal and simple and pared down," says Simon Doonan, creative director of Barneys.

But gray flannel is what's selling. "Most women in America do not have a sense of humor about fashion," says Amy Spindler, style editor of The New York Times Magazine. "They hate the fact that the models are skinny. They hate that they are manipulated every season. When someone has a lighthearted approach, they get apprehensive. They feel used."

Oldham acknowledges that most women don't want to joke around when they're laying out for designer clothes. "I don't know how much fun a $3,000 jacket needs to be. These sorts of fanciful things don't seem like such a modern priority anymore," says Oldham, whose jeans business is mostly composed of easy-on-the-wallet basics. He even admits he's dressing plainly these days.

Perhaps that is all that customers want nowadays. In the meantime, Oldham is keeping busy as a hotel designer, launching a lower-priced line, and hoping to direct a movie based on Liz Renay's autobiography, My Face for the World to See. Mizrahi has two film projects in the works and is mulling offers to act. But if the pendulum swings back to fantasy and fun, it is possible that both designers will return in full force. In their absence, though, the fashion world looks more and more like a banquet--to paraphrase Auntie Mame--where everyone is starving for some truly inspired style.

Pener writes about fashion and culture for Entertainment Weekly, Wallpaper, and POZ.