Her jeans are Dolce & Gabbana

The invitation contains Mission: Impossible–style instructions. For a short time, it notes, small dotted stickers (blue for 30 percent off, red for 40 percent) will appear on the soles of  Louis Vuitton new arrivalcertain shoes; otherwise, but for a tiny tented “SALE” card in the window (a legal mandate), there will be no mark of markdowns. It’s the silver lining for longtime loyalists like Fitzgerald. Walk-ins from the street who inspect a shoe and spot the same dot will be told it’s stocktaking (dismissive and deceptive, sure, but technically true). Calling the subterfuge “a huge pain in the ass,” one former sales assistant explains that he was asked to demur when casual

passersby would dawdle or ask what the dots meant. It was easy, given the minimal evidence. “This tiny, tiny-ass little [sale sign] in the front window. You literally could walk by and never notice it.” Hopefully at least in some killer shoes. aid she was denied permission to attend the fashion show in Italy. The government renewed efforts to keep Louis Vuitton nomade leatherWestern influences out. Google searches for "fashion" or "glamour" result in a red pop-up notice that reads: "Stop. Access to the page has been denied." Still, there's been no dress code crackdown yet, and the stylish set soldiers on. "We're definitely more restricted now, but it's hard to stop girls who want to dress up and show off," said Markiz Nekurouh, 17, clutching a gold lame hobo bag that she bought at a local mall after seeing similar metallic accessories on Internet fashion sites. Now that spring is here, Badloo's government-mandated scarves are floral-print silk confections. She paid $180 for the gigantic Dior sunglasses

 that perch atop her highlighted hair. Her jeans are Dolce & Gabbana, or at least high-quality knockoffs. Badloo's lithe body, high cheekbones and straight nose are all natural, she says. The only artificial thing about her is the Western variation of her traditional first name, which Gucci card caseis actually Hanyeh, not Honey. A few months ago, Badloo hired a professional photographer to take portraits for her ever-expanding portfolio. With a guilty giggle, she called them "my un-Islamic pictures." Some photos show her sprawled across a couch with a come-hither look. Others are sultry shots of h Vivier isn’t alone. Luxury brands like this face a quandary: the new lure of mass-market appeal (and profits) versus the ease of operating the old-fashioned way, as a contained, almost cottage industry. Inevitably almost everyone, from Chanel to Dior via Prada and Armani, has opted for the former.