New York Fashion Week, How You Amused Me

Well, ye olde Week o' Fashion has come to an end, and I survived without crouching in a corner crying due to my severe uncoolness next to the furs, expensive shoes, and emaciation (all off the runway).

I covered a crap ton of shows as contributing fashion editor for Fashion.Style.Beauty - so you can hop on over there to check out my full opinions on Michael Kors, Vera Wang, Ports, Nanette Lepore, Siriano, Michael Angel, and others I can't remember.

But here's a quick recap of my favorite parts of the week:



Simon Doonan. He rocks my world, and I was seated across from him (okay, there was an ocean between us) at the Kors show. He wore brown sneakers, jeans, and a puffy coat. I wanted to take him home. Not in a sexual way, but to just put on my shelf and smile at.

Best overheard comments while waiting for shows to start:

"Is there still a warrant out for your arrest?"



Cupcakes and booze at Leanne Marshall.



Front row at Matthew Ames (which also happened to be my favorite show.) Yeah, so I only got front row because no one was there. Whatever, it counts. I got to see balloon pants.