I 've spent more than two thirds of my life in fashionable capitals: Paris , London , New York . For a time I worked on the Champs-Elysées, developing ad campaigns for an international clothes designer. As a 30-year-old Iranian, steeped in haute couture, I'm now back in my home-town of Tehran —looking oddly like a nerd.

I realized that recently after sharing a taxi with a long-haired young man wearing swanky sunglasses. "I'm a country kid, too," he said flirtatiously. "Which province are you from?" When I told him I was actually from New York , he took off his glasses and double-checked me from head to toe in astonishment. A scarf was tightly knotted under my chin; I was draped in loose brown pants and a black trenchcoat bought a size too big to safeguard maximum decency. Dark and baggy, I was the epitome of revolutionary unchic a la the Iranian Islamic Republic '85-'90.

The young man shook his head. Silly me. Away for so long, I hadn't yet realized how much Iran has changed. Back in the era of the Iran-Iraq War, wearing anything but black was considered outrageous; lipstick was an "insult to the blood of the martyrs." As a young student, I was instructed to wear the strictest hijab to "preserve our society's virtue." Morals police patrolled the streets, chasing the slightest hint of naked ankle or streak of uncovered hair.

Nowadays, glam Tehrani chicks will have none of that. Iranian women never stopped striving to be stylish, even in the heyday of the Islamic dress code. As rules relaxed under the outgoing reformist President Mohammad Khatami, the morals police largely cleared out. A new generation of renegade young women have turned the once drab coat and headscarf—still compulsory—into a high-concept urban uber-trend. Originally intended to cover women's features, they're now accessories, highlighting the very elements they were supposed to cover. Thus, gaggles of young girls strut the trendy precincts of northern Tehran dressed in bright figure-accentuating coats that barely reach the thigh. Formerly billowy blouses are now tailored so tight that they reveal one's bra line, turning such small acts as lifting the arm to hail a cab into an act of rebellion. Scarves have become more of a headband—brightly colored "tops" that delicately crown the head, while fringes of highlighted hair stick out from the front and a mane on the neck. "Now all you can see when sitting in class," says Noura, a 21-year-old student at a Tehran university, "are rows of pink."

Most interesting is the easy tolerance between "old school" and "new school" fashion. Recently I saw a thirtysomething woman with eyebrows shaved a la Pamela Anderson—massive sunglasses and a Barbie-blond ponytail seesawing on her back—looking as if she were going clubbing in Manhattan. Except that she was grocery shopping in the center of Tehran , haggling over the price of eggs along with a lady dressed in a pitch black chador. I was the only person to notice and stare in disbelief. Not long ago, Tehran 's police chief roared against "models of corruption" and warned of a possible crackdown. But Tehrani women have yet to show any sign of obedience. And the crackdown has yet to happen.

Nor, by now, is it all that likely. As for young Tehranis like Noura, she would see it anyway as a minor and temporary hazard. Been there, done that, can deal with it. That's the new Tehran . As for me, I prefer being on the safe side. And I can deal just fine with being the nerd in town.Á


This article is online at Newsweekinternational.com

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