Actress Maxi Blaha and her subtle accompanist, bass guitarist Georg Buxhofer, have been at the Street Theatre before, with Soul of Fire, a play about peace activist and Nobel Prize winner Bertha von Suttner.

This time the subject is Emilie Flöge, designer of spectacular clothing that bypassed the 19th-century corset in favour of rather less restrictive female dress, at least for those in Vienna who could afford it. She was also the life companion of the painter Gustav Klimt.

Two world wars rolled over her with the salon closing in 1938 and Flöge dying in 1952.

Actually, as this one-woman piece makes increasingly clear, Flöge seems to have had considerable competition from other women in Klimt’s crowded life. But there were clearly emotional ties; the stage is strewn with letters and postcards. She inherited half his estate. Did he call for her on his deathbed? And is she the woman in The Kiss?

Blaha wears Flöge's geometric black and white robes with enormous style and a superb period hairdo as she tells the story of her relationship with this man.

But the story of Flöge's deep connection with Klimt is set alongside the story of the fashion house established by her and her sisters in 1904. Flöge revels in the independence and power this allows them, even if she has to spend the monthly visit to pay taxes explaining all over again that there is no man involved in this highly successful business.

Blaha controls the material without falling into the trap of sentimentality. Flöge certainly grieves over some aspects of whatever her relationship with Klimt was. Some of those other women had children by him.

But Blaha’s interpretation looks at the bigger picture, showing Flöge as an artist in her own right, enjoying the symbiosis of a designer who would send her clients off to have their pictures painted by Klimt. That traffic seems to have been two-way, with his customers going to Flöge for her designs.

The play is certainly about Klimt and his gold-covered pictures; they appear in various splendid forms including a postcard passed around the audience and a shimmering scarf of The Kiss but they are backgrounded. The show is really is much more about Flöge and her work.

The staging and lighting are spare and quietly atmospheric and Buxhofer's accompaniment never intrudes but constantly supports. It’s an utterly elegant and passionate production of a piece that does not fall into the trap of trying to explain all. And Blaha carries the role and the clothes with a lovely humour and authority. It is very clear that Emilie Flöge was much more than Gustav Klimt’s muse.