Sleeping Beauties Brought to Life PARIS - Tilda Swinton, ginger head held high, lab coat wrapped around her tall frame, lifted in her white-gloved hands a tiny blue dress. "Dior 1962, worn by the Duchess of Windsor," read the neon lighting strip on the backdrop. Ms. Swinton's face hardened, as if with multiple face-lifts, and the dress hung from her hands with all the pathos of its history. The pages of fashion legend unfolded in motion on the runway as Olivier Saillard, the director of the Museé Galliera, brought out the Paris fashion museum's finest pieces, which had been nesting in the archives as sleeping beauties. ""We've been working on this together for over a year," said the actress, who used all her powers to breathe life into the historic items. She made a forward march in her high-heeled shoes for a Napoleonic jacket; gave a sweet cuddle to a pair of tiny children's bootees; a brisk glance at a harlequin outfit that could have come from the current Paris shows; and eyes of deep misery as the neon recorded that a vest had been worn for a duel that ended in death. The idea of making these pieces, with all their emotional memories and personal stories, come out of their storage boxes and into the light was more than a curator's conceit. Mr. Saillard is adamant that these clothes are too precious and too fragile to be worn - hence the event's title: "The Impossible Wardrobe." The collaboration with a fine and intelligent actress was, therefore, a way of imparting the earlier life of this collection. Fashion as a story board and a store of emotion is what all designers try to achieve. That emotion is felt by any person who has experienced a frisson of memory from clothes. Sitting in a bare room in the Palais de Tokyo, it was possible to envisage the lives of the countesses and signoras who had devoted their evenings to pleasure in immaculate Balenciaga gowns with gilded embroideries. Up went Ms. Swinton's head in haughty elegance, while her next move was to clutch across her chest white Schiaparelli gloves with gold fingernails attached. They were from 1936, but would be a perfect surreal fit with current fashion. This living, breathing, acting way of showing museum clothes included headgear, from top hats to Sonia Delaunay aviator caps from 1924 - all offered on a tray by Mr. Saillard with a fine flourish as his actress partner whipped off the domed protector, as if to reveal some fancy French restaurant dish. With so much knowledge and such style and wit, it is no wonder that the duo received a five-minute standing ovation.