Marjan Pejoski caught late artist Chris Burden's Metropolis II at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, and while there he observed the audience examining the intricate, mechanical, miniature city. Not only did the exhibition delight the watching children, he noted, but it also left septuagenarians beaming with glee. Which made him think. "All of us, when we are kids, if we have cardboard and scissors we can pretend to be who we want to be for the day", said the designer. "We can be a cosmonaut, a doctor -anyone. It is an innocence we all have but that we lose... after seeing this show, I felt the possibility that it's never too late !" The brown paper looks in this collection were a nod to imaginative freedom unfettered by any constraints of material with which to realize it. They were also pieces of personal packaging, a point emphasized by "this way up" arrows on Marjan Pejoski's uniformly pulled-high socks. Tron-touched oversized coats -and on occasion, undersized shorts- were fashioned from transparent sheeting lined or paneled with flashes of rubberized color and monochrome. There were some sensationally sinister totalitarian sex-club visored blinkers, inverted then subverted exposed tailoring, foil power short suits, and faded anarchist newsprint-collage parkas. The closing looks of jerkins assembled from a jumble of motocross-motif panels were accessorized with parachutes whose canopies billowed against the rough steel fencing that divided the audience from the runway. The show that was as exhilaratingly sincere as the clothes in it were utterly particular. If you share the eye, it was visionary.