Though nearly a century old, dresses designed by Paul Poiret (1879–1944) are so chic a woman could wear them today and look absolutely stunning. Only a visionary could make such timeless dresses, and the exhibit “Poiret: King of Fashion” — which opens at the Costume Institute of the Metropolitan Museum of Art on May 9 — confirms this designer’s place in the hallowed territory of modern masters.

At the dawn of the 20th century, Poiret ushered in a new mode of dressing that banished the corset and emphasized the body. His garments were cut with attention to drape, so that the cloth hung from the shoulders with a natural, loose flow. Bright color, high glamour, and dazzling theatricality were recurring elements in his design vocabulary.

The Met’s exhibit also argues for Poiret as a proto-master of the fashion business. Early in his career — which began in 1896 when he was an apprentice to an umbrella maker but took off in earnest when he opened his own couture house in 1903 — he realized the power of collaborating with artists; among the best pieces in the exhibit is a long robe in a stunning ivoryand-blue block print created with the artist Raoul Dufy. After establishing his name and talent, he launched perfumes and a decorative arts company. Poiret — long before Ralph Lauren — was selling the concept of lifestyle.

Poiret had many other connections to the art world around him at the time. His wife Denise wore a beautiful ivory and gold two-tier dress to the premiere of Stravinsky’s “Sacre du Printemps” in April 1913. And Poiret’s “The Thousand and Second Night” party was held a year after Sergei Diaghilev and the Ballet Russes presented “Schéhérazade.”

As the exhibit shows, Poiret was quick to rely on something that even designers today cannot do without: the past. Contemporary designers recycle looks from the 1980s and beyond; Poiret looked to other cultures. He created a distinctly Parisian take on the Indian sari. He made nightgowns for his wife that recall Grecian togas (with miniskirts and asymmetrical bodices). The flowing, wrapped shapes of dresses from the Orient inspired him. Costume parties, such as “The Thousand and Second Night” (June 24, 1911), served as opportunities to dress guests in flamboyant Persian-style clothes. Think harem trousers, embellished embroidery, and sheer fabrics.

Yet more modern still, Poiret’s wife was his muse. Her thin, lithe body showed off his clothes with clarity. As the gallery text explains: “Unlike the odalisques of the Belle Epoque, her svelte, gamine beauty adhered to the more active body type that was emerging in the early twentieth century.” So it would seem that Poiret is at the source of the skinny model trend.

The exhibit ends on a forwardlooking note that suggests Poiret’s influence on Coco Chanel. Her dropped waist silhouette in the 1920s came from the same spirit of the times, but her emphasis on sportswear and comfort — as opposed to grandiose theater — took fashion deeper into the new century.

Curators Harold Koda and Andrew Bolton have created a superb exhibit that illustrates Poiret’s legacy with garments in beautiful condition. Several dresses are shown with decorative objects, furniture, and paintings that enhance the understanding of modernity. The gallery texts are very much worth reading, and the dresses themselves are lit in flattering cases that make them as covetable as anything on Madison Avenue today.

This exhibit avoids the central pitfall of fashion in a museum setting: Too often a thin or unworthy subject is puffed up beyond the fact that clothes are clothes. Poiret, however, is an entirely deserving subject for a show of this order at the Met. This exhibit honors his contribution to the history of fashion — and adds legitimacy to the study of that history.

Through August 5, (1000 Fifth Ave. at 82nd Street, 212-535-7710).