When ravishing commentator Jada Collins asked how many guests had attended the Ebony Fashion Fair for more than 20 years, dozens of hands went up throughout the Byham Theater on Tuesday evening.

Matt Freed, Post-Gazette Yanique Moore shows off a fur-trimmed ensemble during the Ebony Fashion Fair at the Byham Theater Tuesday evening.

It's a safe bet the response is the same in the other 175 cities on the traveling style show's nine-month itinerary.

Ordinary people, dressed to impress, flock to the event year after year for a variety of reasons. For African-Americans, who make up the overwhelming majority of the audience for the all-black presentation, the 48-year-old Ebony Fashion Fair represents fantasy, aspiration and affirmation.

First, there are the gorgeous clothes. Designers from around the world donate fabulous outfits, some of which are never seen on runways and many of which are never sold in Pittsburgh stores. Stylists combine them handsomely with accessories for looks that represent the pinnacle of fashion.

The show features design legends, up-and-coming brands and black designers who historically have had fewer opportunities to showcase their talent before a wide audience. This season's show, for example, includes a number of stunning looks by emerging Asian-American designer Naeem Khan and black designer Henry Jackson for The Gallery of Wearable Art in New York.

In terms of fashion as spectacle, the show has no equal.

But it's never been strictly about fine clothes fiercely accessorized. To the core audience, it matters who dons the designer duds.

Matt Freed, Post-Gazette Colorful knits and bold headwear are always part of the show, as modeled here by Justin Brown of Tulsa, Okla.

Despite the success of supermodels Iman, Beverly Johnson, Naomi Campbell, Tyra Banks, Alek Wek and Liya Kebede -- most of whom, incidentally, came from another country -- black models have never been numerically significant in the U.S. fashion industry. From high-fashion runways to fragrance and cosmetics ads, blacks and other minorities remain underrepresented, and their beauty underappreciated.

But when the lights flash, the music starts thumping and the first stiletto skims the stage at the Ebony Fashion Fair, spectators eagerly soak up the delightful display of black beauty. The show's 10 female and two male models, found in metropolitan cities and little towns across America, are mesmerizing. They don't walk, they glide. Every step, gesture and pose is choreographed, yet movement appears effortless.

There's always a plus-size model, a warmly welcomed acknowledgement that lovely women come in larger sizes. Though tall and slender, the other nine women are always curvaceously healthy, never anorexic-thin. Many could easily conquer the runways of European haute couture; few are likely to find substantial work in a New York fashion establishment reluctant to embrace women who aren't flat, bony and Caucasian.

Matt Freed, Post-Gazette Carmen Currie of St. Louis, Mo. models this edgy denim skirt-pant hybrid.

But the Ebony Fashion Fair isn't just for African-Americans. Audiences include more non-black guests each year, probably because the entertainment is outstanding. It's based on a formula that works: Partner with local organizations, donate a portion of the $25 ticket price to local nonprofits, and discreetly pitch the company's cosmetics and magazines -- all while showing beautiful clothes on beautiful people.

Sometimes, though, a good show isn't enough to maintain momentum. The production had become formulaic in recent years, drawing lighter crowds in many cities. It needed an update to appeal to a younger crowd while retaining enough tradition to keep their parents and grandparents coming.

Last week, there were promising signs that organizers are intentional about attracting younger generations. Gone is the onstage band, which was fun but had become fuddy-duddy. In its place is recorded hip-hop with an infectious beat and a jazzy instrumental twist.

Matt Freed, Post-Gazette A fur hat and matching handbag add drama to a skirt suit worn by Yanique Moore of Fort Washington, Md.

Thankfully, there's also a new stage backdrop. It's a field of dazzling light images, somewhat distracting if you're sitting in the first few rows but a fresh dose of technological savvy needed to push the show squarely into the 21st century.

The event has come a long way since 1956, when Jessie Dent, the wife of Dillard University president Albert Dent, approached black publisher John H. Johnson about a one-time fashion show in New Orleans featuring designer clothes on black models. Johnson involved his wife, Eunice, and others, and the novel idea grew to include 10 cities by the show's debut in 1958.

The Ebony Fashion Fair is part of a Johnson Publications legacy that has instilled black pride for more than a half-century. Just like the Ebony Fashion Fair makeup line formulated specifically for black women and the pioneering Jet and Ebony magazines that affirm the worth of black people, the show is a reminder that necessity is often the mother of invention.

That's a lot of baggage for a fashion show to carry, but it does so with impeccable style and amazing grace.