Entering the latest exhibition at the Museum of the Fashion Institute of Technology feels a bit like crashing a swank party. “Form Follows Fashion” is a scene to behold, a ball attended by 95 phantom women. Each attendee, installed on a slightly raised platform in the center of the room or along the walls of the room’s perimeter, wears an iconic ensemble that dates from the 1920s up to the Fall 2004 collections: from a clingy, pleated 1928 “Delphos” gown in Pearle scent lilac silk crepe de chine by Mario Fortuny, to a midcentury, ecclesiastic-inspired black dress by Cristobal Balenciaga that fills with air when the wearer walks, to a black sheer wool crepe cocktail dress from Nicholas Ghesquiere’s Fall 2004 collection, inspired by a find from Balenciaga’s archives – a white silk shift from 1960, also on exhibit.

“This exhibition is about formal investigations, shape, structure, volume, and proportion,” museum director and curator Valerie Steele said last week as the exhibition was being installed for its October 7 opening. “We were not interested in chronology, we shot back in time but not as far back as bustle dresses of the 1880s.”The title of the exhibition plays with the famous dictum “form follows function,” coined by American architect Louis Sullivan. “Viewers will be struck more by the visual strangeness and beauty of the fashions than by the fitness of purpose,” Ms. Steele said, adding that though the functionalist philosophy may have influenced architecture and product design it has had relatively little impact on fashion design.

The gowns and dresses – whether designed by American couture legend Charles James (including his famous pink “Four Leaf Clover” ball gown of 1953 and Sirene gowns of 1955), or by contemporary designers Ralph Rucci, Zac Posen, and avantgardeists Rei Kawakubo and Isabel Toledo – are expertly draped on headless, white mannequins or float gently above the floor, ghostlike, secured to invisible supports. They are arranged in clusters on the platform, according to loose visual themes.

Wall text is absent, as are biographical notes or a catalog, forcing visitors to confront the shapes and volumes directly within the small-scale room. We are forewarned of the set-up, however: in the front hall, as a preface to the exhibition, are abstract fiberglass silhouette sculptures by Ruben Toledo (husband of Isabel), a subtle instruction on how to approach the three-dimensional material ahead.

The eye jumps from a sinister Viktor and Rolf black-and-silver lurex, horn-laden bolero (Fall 2001) at the entrance, to the structured silk evening gowns of Messrs. James and Rucci, pausing for a long moment on the exaggerated waves of the pink silk and black velvet “Petal Stole” (1955) wrapped around the neck of a James “Tree” gown. At the rear of the exhibition a horned gown composed of black heat processed polyurethane and polyester by Japanese designer Yoshiki Hishinuma (1999) jabs at the space around it.

We are at liberty to free-associate. But we are instructed as well. In a darkened antechamber is a copper toned James “Tree” gown (1955) turned on its side to reveal its secret, internal architecture: the boning of the skirt and contrasting pink underskirts. Next to it is a black evening coat and gown by Romeo Gigli (1988) – “Much lighter and airier than the James but still has a distinct form and tremendous volume,” said Ms. Steele – made of black nylon. The coat has a deliberately vo luminous bulge while the sleeveless dress is pleated and cut close to the body. The lesson? Technology and manmade materials can achieve different qualities than traditional couture, but the effects are no less sculptural. The options are laid before us to contemplate. It is the relationship of materials and tailoring techniques that sculpt the look of a dress.

Perhaps more quotidian by comparison, but equally captivating, are the ensembles from ready-to-wear that flank the outer walls, most by contemporary avant-garde Japanese designers. “The Comme Des Garcons collection of skirts was a big inspiration for this show,” said Ms. Steele. It is so rare to see such totemic ballroom decadence, however, that one tends, at first, to ignore the more subtle ensembles by Ms. Kawakubo and Mr. Miyake on the perimeter. There are also examples from Yves St. Laurent (a hot-pink hooded number); a Norma Kamali super sized, boxy, red nylon overcoat reminiscent of a Claes Oldenburg sculpture (1981); a hounds tooth wool suit with bell-shaped detachable sleeves by Yohji Yamamoto (Fall 2003); the red zipper dress by artist Cat Chow (the entire sleeveless dress is a zipper that coils around and around the body); and the famous four-armed raincoat by Martin Margiela (Fall 2002).

“The acquisition of a Gres evening dress at auction last year triggered our idea to do a thematic exhibition on form in fashion,” said Ms. Steele. The 1967 dress – the center of the exhibition – is composed of three overlapping triangles of black silk faille. The result is that the folds of this elegant, sleeveless dress contrast sharply with its strict, pyramidal silhouette. It could be an Asian-inspired take on Victorian mourning cloaks, or a response to Balenciaga’s black, ecclesiastic garb. It is a formal backdrop, a large black canvas, useful for comparing other colors and materials. And, of course, a constant reminder to look at the lines.