Editor-At-Large: War is hell (in pink satin combats)

War hasn't yet been declared, but, fear not, the fashion industry is fully prepared. As Saddam Hussein kits out his fighters in copies of British Army uniforms, bars and clubs in city centres throughout Britain are packed with style victims downing cocktails while wearing Desert Storm attire. In

New York, Puff Daddy shows a collection of greatcoats, army jackets and flying suits. A political gesture or a smart way of milking the mood of the moment? The other night a woman strode past me in London's Smithfield wearing a huge pair of pink satin combat trousers, straps flying in all directions, topped with a camouflage T-shirt. She looked like an inflatable tank ready to repel the enemy. Walk down any high street this week and you'll see this repeated in all shapes and sizes.

Dealing with Iraq's despotic leader may be costing the world economy millions, but one group that stands to benefit is the rag trade. With sick timing, every glossy magazine has declared combat pants the must-have of the season. Department stores such as Selfridges are stocking them in every fabric, and at every price, by designers from Paul Smith to Burberry. On the same theme you could choose men's trousers in army fabric emblazoned with slogans or a Miu Miu camouflage handbag costing hundreds of pounds. It is possible to spend £1,000 yet end up looking as if you've just got kitted up at an army surplus outlet.

But as one part of the business is intent on turning us into fake soldiers, another is determined that we should spread peace. Isn't that just the crazy, wonderfully lightweight world of the dress designer's mind? Meanwhile, John Galliano goes to China for inspiration. Give me a break. Katharine Hamnett made headlines in 1984 when she wore that "58% don't want Pershing" T-shirt to a party hosted by Margaret Thatcher. Last month, the grand finale of her show at London Fashion Week featured a parade of models wearing T-shirts with slogans including "Stop War Blair Out", "Harass your MP", "Blair resign" and "91% don't want war". They included instructions on how to email your MP. Ms Hamnett told an interviewer that many big fashion stores in the US had ordered these T-shirts, and she planned versions emblazoned "Harass your Congressman".

At the risk of sounding cynical, this is about as potent a political protest as me standing in Oxford Street singing "Give Peace a Chance". Fashion and the military are an uneasy mix. Back in 1984 Ms Hamnett may have had a point, but since then she's joined and left the Conservative Party. These days, all sensible people, and most MPs, don't want war. No one I know actively wants to go to war. Ms Hamnett is an intelligent, if somewhat confused, person, but then we should forgive her – I stopped writing about fashion decades ago before it rotted my brain.

In the world of high fashion, a global threat means that Harvey Nichols or Barneys, New York, might not be stocking your line. And the fact is, these are tough times for luxury brands; they are looking at a war, and it's not in Iraq, but a battle to survive when rich clients may have less cash and other priorities. Fashion, as usual, keeps all its options open in order to keep those balance sheets in the black. To design for the present is always harder than the option of the past or the "costume" alternative. Dolce & Gabbana may have sent out T-shirts saying "Peace", but most of its clothes are still reworkings of bondage and fetish wear.

Perfume, handbags and cosmetics keep all these companies in business, not the hard task of coming up with something we could wear on the 9am commuter train or out to supper. If designers were really in touch with life as it is led by thousands of working women, why would Tom Ford send his models wearing corsets down a catwalk strewn with rose petals to the strains of Sinead singing "Nothing compares 2U"? Increasingly they turn to fancy dress, fantasy clothes for actresses to be photographed in at award ceremonies, and thus place their brands across the world's front pages. That is why combat trousers and camouflage are so hip and now – they are just another option in the unreal world of high fashion. Another season, another theme to plunder.

Off target

As I have said before, this government is obsessed with setting targets as a means of checking delivery. But imposing targets on public services is inviting those who run them to lie and cheat in order to keep their jobs. Delivering boxes of herrings or making sponge cakes on an assembly line is very different from running the police service or a hospital trust. Targets imply units, measurable elements, and not the variables involved when you have to deliver services to human beings.

All the evidence suggests that targets create a climate of deception. Since the police have had targets imposed on them, surprise, surprise, key areas of crime are deemed to be dropping. It's all down to meeting "clearing up" targets. The other week it emerged that more than half of the ambulance services surveyed (15 out of 28) were fiddling their response times, according to the Commission for Health Improvement. Last week it was the turn of National Health trusts. Only three out of 41 provided accurate waiting list figures for an Audit Commission investigation. Meanwhile, Alistair Darling tells the Commons he plans to increase the efficiency and reliability of the rail network by cancelling trains. Is that a new kind of negative target?

Cries of cultural vandalism arose last week when the owners of two posters for the Jane Russell film The Outlaw destroyed one so that they were able to achieve a record price at auction, £52,875, for the only remaining copy. The image of Russell's semi-clothed form is a classic of its time. But high art? I don't think so – just a desirable piece of collectable ephemera.

When the Victoria & Albert Museum's art deco exhibition opens in a couple of weeks, visitors will be able to see the magnificent glass entrance to the Strand Palace Hotel in London by Oliver Bernard, which was ripped out in the 1960s for a crass modernisation. A friend persuaded the museum to buy it, hoping that it might form the entrance to the museum from the Underground subway. No chance. This exquisite piece of period design (one of the finest examples of art deco anywhere in Europe) has been stored in boxes ever since. That's cultural vandalism. Campaign for it to remain on permanent display, please.