It seems that some sort of tragedy always occurs just as New York's Fashion Week is getting underway. Two years ago it was the horrific 9/11 terror attack. Last year I broke a heel, tripped up the steps at Bryant Park and spilled my caramel macchiato on Andre Leon Tally, who was being interviewed on camera by E! (That pesky restraining order kept me out of half of this season's shows!) Of course, this year was the Blackout of 2003. Okay, so it didn't exactly happen during fashion week, but it could have, right? And that's what's so damn terrifying, kids. Things can fall apart at any moment. But I digress. Check your attitudes at the door and hold on to your fake Takashi Murakami monogram multicolored LV bags! It's gonna be a funky ride!

WHAT'S IN:

Color: Color is the new blackout, I mean black.
Kate Moss: Those who believed she went away are as blind as Mary Ingalls in the 4th season of "Little House on the Prairie." Or maybe they're not completely blind, but only partially blind, like Mary in the episode "Four Eyes" from the 2nd season where she purposely loses her glasses because the other children at school are teasing her.
Jill Sander: Let's all take a moment to welcome her back from her sabbatical. Okay, the moment's over.
Corsets: Apparently fashion designers have run out of things to rehash, so they've turned (naturally) to the 18th century. Make the investment now because corsets are everywhere this season! If not for yourself, then for that special mail carrier in your life.
Details: Pin-tucks, feathers, ribbons, three-dimensional flowers and fringes.
Gays: The Gays ruled TV this summer (Chip & Reichen on "The Amazing Race," the omnipresent Fab 5—counting down, 14:58, 14:59—and the world's most famous hag, Andra from "Boy Meets Boy," took Reality TV by storm) and, now, "The Ellen DeGeneres Show" is like waking up to one of the comedienne's hilarious HBO specials every single morning! By July 2004, same sex couples will be able to marry anywhere in Canada. I didn't even know they made gay people in Canada!

WHAT'S OUT:

Fat America: Just in case you didn't know, ordering a Diet Coke with the Happy Meal doesn't make it okay.
Haute pants: Hot pants—as seen in GF Ferre and Baby Phat—shouldn't ever be worn as day-wear, so do me and the rest of the world a favor and don't try.
Stars and Former Designers Lending their Names to Big Chains: It was okay when Martha did it but when Isaac Mizrahi jumps in bed with Target and Thalia sells her sole to Kmart, imagine the possibilities: preppy orange and pink corduroy blazers with three inch heels.um, no!
Friendster: The new "in" in thing is to remove yourself from Friendster without telling anyone.

NOW FOR THE MAIN ATTRACTION.

GF FERRE

The first show I attend each season is always the one I hold dearest to my heart. But when the audience can barely see the ultra-rock creations of the youth-driven Gianfranco Ferre line due to lighting difficulties—and when Beyoncé makes an immediate beeline backstage—the photographers get angry and, well, Alexa get angrier (grrrrr)! Really, if it weren't for those charming t-shirts with statements like "black icon" and "from my mouth to yours," I would've remained in my irritable, animal state. What with all the white grommeted leather motorcycle jackets and metallic boots on fierce display, this collection exuded futuristic chic, while the hot-pants recalled the 70s and the graffitied strapless shifts revisited the 80s. Overall, it was a time-traveling teen magazine fashion editor's wet dream.

DRES

This collection was inspired by "African leaders and visionaries." Who am I to question someone who identifies with icons like Nelson Mandela and Idi Amin Dada? The lights dimmed and what seemed to be the voice of God (it was actually The Chemical Brothers) reinforced the designer's continental muse by stating, "It began in Africa.!" I learned that designer Andres Throckmorton Stickney must be lost. Is this Africa, Brooklyn or Africa, Queens? My expectations were crushed repeatedly as model after model strutted down the elevated catwalk. The fabrics were innovative by way of brown teflon dresses and painted perforated rubber skirts, belts and stripes, but the prints were atrocious—as were the designs. Shiseido soap was our takeaway from this botched event. Did the designer anticipate that we would need to wash ourselves after this filthy mess?

ATIL KUTOGLU

The Turkish-born designer should have helped his models to buckle their shoes. The collection started off as a twist on office-wear with gray rayon/lycra inventions, while Mr. Kutoglu single-handedly tried to bring back the same black lycra leggings we thought were long buried in the 80s along with Cavariccis. Not until a sexy, silver draped one-shoulder bathing suit did this designer's exotic ways become apparent. Strong pieces such as a bossa denim pleated dress, edgy gold and silver leather jumpsuits and dresses, and everything silver sequined were unnecessarily tangled with plaid cotton halters, green embroidered silk mousseline, and beige and aqua lace dresses. I'm already on the wait list for that honey-hued crushed leather trench coat though.

ROSA CHÁ BY AMIR SLAMA

The Ortha Evra birth control patches and Swarovski crystal centerpiece were hardly as noticeable as the sexcapades on stage. São Paulo designer Amir Slama makes you want to suffer through a Brazilian wax just so you can wear one of his bikinis with strategically placed butt-crack windows. Clad in a barely-there gold bikini, Naomi Campbell led a spectacle of models in neon pinks and yellows and leopard print swimsuits accented with ribbons and chains. Those Brazilians sure know what they're doing when it comes to swimwear. And I'm not ashamed to admit that I creamed my Cosabellas. For all you star-fuckers out there: Pharrell Williams, T-Boz, Ivana Trump, Cuba Gooding Jr., Venus Williams, Anthony Kiedis, Beyoncé, Jay-Z, Toni Braxton and Jordana Brewster lined the front row. For the record, I was allowed nowhere near them. Except for my husband, Pharrell, of course.

FUSHA

Someone please call 9-1-1! If we solely existed in the world of hip-hop, I would be called a "hater" for what I'm about to report regarding Wyclef Jean's wife, Maria Claudinette Pierre-Jean's collection. Her goody bag—which consisted of a sampler from her hubby's forthcoming The Preacher's Son album (due in stores October 28th, aiiiiight!)—and the DJ, Clef himself, were far superior than the rubbish that was paraded before my Bette Davis eyes. Picture it: Bryant tent.2003. Flatbush, Brooklyn meets money. UGH!

BABY PHAT

And here I thought Rosa Chá and Fusha were sheer mayhem. Take away the hype, the police, the much-loved models (Alek Wek, Omahyra and Liya Kebede), the craned camera hovering above the runway, the exhilarating music, and all the bling-bling and what's left? Clothing meant for a music video shoot in Vegas, that's what. Drawing motivation from a peacock's iridescent blue, green and purple feathers, the models shook their tails in little fringe numbers, hot pants and pinstriped minis. For her quarter march down the catwalk, Kimora Lee Simmons never looked better with her two gorgeous children in tow. And of course, what's a Baby Phat show without star dream teams such as Kelis & Nas, Beyoncé & Jay-Z, Wyclef & wife, along with Seal, Venus Williams (where's Serena?), convicted con-woman Lizzie Grubman, Tyson Beckford, Lisa Ling and the ruler of runways everywhere: Jay Alexander.

VENEXIANA

Meanwhile, a few blocks away at the Mao Space, Samantha was sipping a martini.oh wait, this isn't "Sex & The City." I'm going through withdrawal already. Venexiana by Kati Stern was the complete opposite of the hullabaloo I left at the tents. The check-in was a dream (I could have flown in Granny from Cairo along with a few of her nursing home pals to see the show and no one would have cared), the music was ghastly, the lighting was awful and the models were riddled with acne and horrific makeup, and even worse bob wigs. What started as a poor man's Catherine Malandrino transformed into a parade of strong garments with quirky names. (Dare I say that I want a pair of vomit suede leather pants, a crinkle cotton Orlando ribbon shirt, a Lord of the Rings laser cut jacket?) Each piece came out at least five times stronger than the last until the music broke and out came this purple rain bustier and purple haze skirt that would even compel Prince to make a mad dash for his little red corvette. Finale aside, the corsetry was truly lovely.

HOUSE OF DIEHL

House Of Diehl should have been called House of Drag, and rather than host the show at the swanky Tribeca Grand, it should have been held at the Howard Johnson. The performance consisted of famed I-don't-know-what Amanda LePore decked out as the Virgin Mary and lip-syncing badly to "Ave Maria" (yes, we even got to see her nasty ta-tas), a crude dance number by girls in tape-measure swimsuits, and a Nuyorican poet dressed like Moses preaching from the book of Balmain. What could have been a subversive mockery of the fashion industry was a farce in it of itself. The show's slogan "I Know What You Did Last Season" was the only witty touch to this pagan travesty.

MAURICE MALONE

Rapper. Filmmaker. Fashion designer. What can't Maurice Malone do? Eat my pussy. But you can add straightforward, toned-down street wear to his list of accomplishments. He effortlessly instilled his men's and women's collections with clever touches. For the men, there were track trousers, raw denim wide-leg jeans, silk/wool two-button sports coats and suits. A black chiffon tank dress with bow-bottom and a jersey bubble dress with contrasting waist are new versions of the lil' black dress. And just when you thought Mr. Malone was stuck on the corner of Ho-Hum and Safe, he delivered a silver jersey tank with fader-print button-down shirt-skirt and a metallic champagne jersey tank with white cotton 240 button skirt.

b MICHAEL

Maybe b Michael's muse, Susan Fales-Hill, could provide some insight on his merry compilation. "If only our garments could talk, what would they say?" Michael asked. Well b—can I call you c?—yours would say "Elated Confusion" rather than "Joy." It would introduce Jackie O to the Flying Nun and have the Easter Bunny do their eye-makeup. The juxtaposed ivory/stone liquid silk satin gown and elongated azalea silk torso dress with black tulle were fun, but not enough to carry the collection. Vanessa Williams and Robert Verdi were witnesses to the themeless affair.

DOUGLAS HANNANT

Hannant's collection was simply the height of sexy, understated perfection. Opting for airy pastels, this Illinois native could educate others on the meaning behind the cliché "Less is more." So damn pretty were the chiffon and jersey dresses in peach, leaf green and rose! Hannant even awoke Madame Coco from her eternal slumber with cleanly tailored tweed jacket/skirt combos. On a side note, I know Garnier Nutrisse sponsored some portion of the show but was it necessary to make Hitler's vision of a blonde-haired, blue-eyed tomorrow come true? Mr. Hannant, invite me to your three-dimensional flowered jardin and I'll show you that brunettes have more fun!

CARMEN MARC VALVO

Eveningwear designer Carmen Marc Valvo planted 46 seeds and we had the honor of watching them blossom into elegant pieces. Darlings with hot pink eye shadow and wavy upswept hairdos showed off standouts like a silk chiffon cabbage rose skirt, a morning glory print silk chiffon gown, a white croc bustier with a black silk chiffon petal skirt, and a black beaded empire waist gown. Carmen Marc Valvo knows that nothing is better than chantilly lace and a pretty face for Spring.

JACKIE ROGERS

Jacqueline's creations were like Doug Hannant déjà vu. Red-lipped, side chignon-ed models strolled by with sophisticated style. The former Chanel model and muse opened with a breathtaking multi-colored sequined gown, followed by a stunning black one shoulder tiered organza gown and interesting feather beaded pants and skirts. Jacqueline concluded with a white one-shoulder gown with a daringly high slit and laser cut flowers. She's is on point with her mantra, "I don't believe in fashion, I believe in style."

ALVIN VALLEY

I'm tired. This is my last show. God save the queen! You know it's bad when I can name every last one of the People's Revolution team. They're like family now. (Sigh.) Taking his cue from Labyrinth, the Cuban-American designer sent his mannequins galloping down an extra curvy runway in Christian Louboutins. His line incorporated just the right amount of edge (which I'm a sucker for, since I have none) and femininity (which I also lack). Not to say you'll find me in tap pants on Fifth Avenue any time soon but the beige brocade jacket with stand collar and white eyelet and beige brocade twill corsetted pants need to find their way into a major fashion spread (or my closet). His swimsuits consisted of smart prints like Dada, Herald Tribune and Marvel. A bit of pintuck here, plexiglass there, et voila! Thank you Alvin Valley for leaving things on a high note.

HONORABLE MENTIONS and CONFUSED MUSINGS:

Apparently the Bryant Park tents have a hidden daycare center inside. It's almost like everyone read last season's column where I griped about pets, so this season they decided to bring their children instead.

Rumor has it that Cindy Crawford had a runway reprise at Esteban Cortazar's show and, unfortunately, I missed it. My spies tell me she looked better than ever.

This is just a friendly reminder that the front row comes with responsibility. Uncross your legs you hairy-legged beasts—and that goes for your boyfriends too!

More like "Me Against the Fashion Show Audiences." Britney Spears was spotted at the Diesel show on Wednesday being booed by the masses for her diva-like entrance. Julia Roberts wants her Pretty Woman boots back, Brit.

Lest we not forget, we east-coasters have some competition. This just so happens to be the second year that L.A. Fashion Week directly follows ours (October 28 to 31). Typical. We lead. They follow. Whichever coast you prefer, let's all take a moment to congratulate 7th on Sixth for its steadfast, fashion-forward efforts to bring Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week to us for the past ten years now.

Toodles.

Alexa Camp
© slant magazine, 2003.

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