High Fugshion

Is it already Day Six? Does this mean we get to sleep in our own beds again soon? Although we're quite giddy after today's champers-fueled event at Marchesa, at which we got to bask in the warm glow of a hugely pregnant -- and two weeks from popping -- Jennifer Lopez.

Watching her swell with child has been truly fascinating, considering this is a woman who's rear end has been the subject of national -- and probably international -- fascination. We're happy for her and she looks healthy and happy, but we still can't stop studying the effect pregnancy has had on her face. Don't get us wrong, she's still pretty, but instead of looking like J.Lo, she looks a bit like a J.Lo impersonator who went too crazy with the collagen (and occasionally, in some shots, like Valerie Bertinelli, but only from specific angles -- trust me on that one; I'm not nuts, or at least, I don't think so, but then again neither does Britney so whatever). At any rate, we were kind of embarrassingly excited to see her so up-close and personal. In Los Angeles you're not supposed to look like you're noticing the celebrities out in the wild, but at Fashion Week, it's your job to ogle. Bless.

• The highlight at Narciso Rodriguez: The Return of the Seinfelds.
• The second we saw Lance Armstrong walk into ex-girlfriend Tory Burch's presentation, we prayed for a tearful reunion. Didn't get one. Still, it made for some great speculation.
• We're crushed we didn't get a breath mint from The Donald, but thanks to Celebrity Apprentice, he's given us so much already that we can't REALLY be upset.
• Jennifer Lopez was unusually chatty about her due date at Marchesa.
• Dear Veronica Webb: It's not gingham time. Indeed, is it ever?

It's been an eventful Fashion Week full of wonderful lessons -- for one thing, we realized that since we last saw her, Brittany Murphy has turned 65.

Congrats, sweetie! And good luck in the shuffleboard tournament next week.

• Brittany Murphy is by far the most entertaining person we've seen all week. No, for real, she was all melodrama and madness at Max Azria.
• Amy Adams arrived on time to Proenza Schouler. Somebody dropped the ball when it came to teaching her how to be a celebrity at Fashion Week.
• If she plays it right, that cute Ana Ortiz will probably be wearing Badgley Mischka for at least the next two years.
• As much as we love Sophia Bush, we REALLY need new people to write about, so thank you, Perrey Reeves and Kim Raver.
• Oh, Fergie-Ferg, no need to fidget. You look fine.

Oh, Miss Tyra, you do amuse us so. We like to call this touching portrait A Girl And Her Twinkie:

Gotta respect a woman who not only puts greasy baked goods in her mouth, but thinks it's fun for it to happen on camera. And also, I know some people out there want us to stop yapping about Miss Tyra's wig or weave or whatever we feel like calling it that day -- it could be both, or neither; it is all things, and yet it is nothing -- and we do feel you. We do. But seriously, HOW do you expect us to do that? How? We are but mortal. We adore her crazy hair. It's impossible to resist discussing something that looks so heavy and itchy and as if it was recently shorn from the business end of a horse. So, with apologies to those non-congratulators, we not only can't not reference it, but in fact, it gets its own affectionate section in our book  -- which, shameless plug ahoy, hits stores today. The City of New York is courteously throwing a parade to honor the occasion, although I think there is some nonsense about us sharing the party with Michael Strahan and Eli Manning. Pish. We call shenanigans on that.

Here's what we were up to while Tyra was romancing her snack cake:

• Ellen Pompeo seemed very pleasant in perilous circumstances at Y-3.
• Chloe Sevigny barely conceals her distaste for Miss Sixty; Milla Jovovich at times doesn't even try.
• Angie Harmon is a smart girl, getting a hair wrangler to make sure everything was in place before her photo op at Carolina Herrera.
• We wish Tim Gunn could've stopped the rock at Catherine Malandrino. That music was scary.
• What happens when a fashion show starts on time? Some celebrities miss it, that's what.
• Do you think Betsey Johnson gave attendee Joan Jett another dime to put in the jukebox, baby?
• Maybe Eliza Dushku can figure out what the hell the gift was at Ports 1961.

Yep, it's that time of year again: Fashion Week in the Big Apple, minus the arctic blast, plus a few drops of freezing rain here and there, and multiplied by a hometown Super Bowl win (and to think people doubted us when we picked Eli to win the battle of the quarterbacks!).

As usual, we're going to try really hard to update when we can, but if we're not as frequent as usual, please bear with us -- we'll be back home this weekend and working on our regular schedule. In the meantime you can always get a fug fix by wandering over to The Cut, New York magazine's fashion blog, where we're posting our dispatches.

• Oh, Joy. Mandy was able to keep her goods inside her Herve Leger dress; why did your nipple sneak into our view?
• The week kicked off with Liza Minnelli singing live. No, really.
• Christina Milian later claimed her bouffant, which she debuted at BCBG, took three hours to prepare. We believe it.
• Make no mistake: Vivica A. Fox "is not a hater. [She's] a congratulator." Whatever you say, Viv!
• At Abaete, Sophia Bush demonstrated why she was always too good for that Chad Michael Murray scoundrel.
• Forget Niki Taylor -- at Alexandre Herchcovitch, we saw Miss USA hit up Nigel Barker for his business card.
• Headbanded socialite Arden Wohl was a breath of fresh, crazy air at Alexander Wang.
• The Rock & Republic show was a fatal accident waiting to happen -- and that was without Vivica A. Fox's wild gesticulating.
• More socialite shenanigans at Preen.

Again, we promise we'll put up a post here and there when we get a second to breathe, but if our best efforts aren't enough, we'll totally be back on track beginning Monday. I mean, we can't leave Intern George to his own devices for THAT long. He'll make origami swans out of all the paper towels, and those things can really pile up fast.

I feel like we've asked this question before, but I'm compelled to pose it again: SERIOUSLY, didn't she supposedly get those things fixed?

And if she did get 'em taken care of, why is she not now taking care of them? We appreciate that she is trying to be perky, but the one on the left appears so embarrassed that it's trying to take shelter in her armpit, and the one on the right just looks too depressed to do anything but sulk. It was a fixable issue, too -- a better dress, a little underwire, and we'd have been off to the races. Obviously, the cautionary leaflet her surgeon gave her -- Don't Be A Boob About Your New Boobs, sponsored by Playtex -- is lying in a crumpled heap in her car next to the Us Weekly issue in which she exalted how all that corrective surgery changed her life.

Still, I can at least take comfort in the fact that, with Tara Reid back to being kind of a mess, the world is apparently back to turning properly on its axis.

And, we're done: 40 shows, eight days, several bagels, and two swollen suitcases -- each -- and we're finally heading back home. Our feet are seriously jacked up at this point; this is what two L.A. girls get when they bring their high heels to New York and try to enjoy it as a pedestrian city. There's always that one day where you think you can walk a little further before changing into walking shoes, and you are always grievously wrong. Life is hard.

We're traveling today and will be back for real tomorrow, just in time for the weekend... which, thoughtfully of Hollywood, involves watching the Emmy Awards and praying for widespread insanity to rip through town and addle the fashion judgment of TV's finest.

In the meantime, here's a brief clip show of how we closed out the week in the City That Never Sleeps:

• We're so pleased to note that Marc Anthony is everything we wanted him to be.
• Guess which singer seemed hugely cranky at Tommy Hilfiger? Well, you don't have to, actually, because we can't NOT share.
• It's not up yet as of this posting aha, but it's posted here as of this edit) but check Show & Talk for our roundup of our favorite and least favorite moments, plus a few tidbits that never made it into our dispatches.

As for Mrs. Marc Anthony, well, we wish she'd spent more of her design budget on the actual clothes instead of the kooky production values:

ROBERTO CAVALLI: What a marvelous caftan. If I could smile, Jennifer, I would.

LA LOPEZ: Gracias, my tiny robot friend, you are too good to me.

CAVALLI: That outfit eats you in an explosion of frumpy glee. It looks like you're going to a polo party in the middle of the handbag section at Saks. I no longer need your mortal sleep, but if I did, your caftan would be a dream.

LA LOPEZ: I can't even let you SEE my hair, though, Robert. Dios mio, what a week! Between the parties and the preparation for my fashion show, I haven't even had time to wash my hair in Evian, like normal! I've been using tap water! Like a savage!

CAVALLI: ... Ooh, yes, savage! It's a SAVAGE dream! In which the Chrysler building pierces my navel while Salvador Dali watches. It's magic. Do you do parties? I must strongly consider stepping closer to you.

LA LOPEZ: Sigh. Could somebody please reboot him? Marc never needs to restart until dawn. I miss his wee undead cheekbones.

We were already sad that Fashion Week is almost over (we'll be back to posting regularly on Friday). And then the rain came, like giant dirty tears from the sky. Maybe God was crying in anticipation of J Lo's runway show, which was apocalyptic in its own way. More on that tomorrow (sadly, no one wore fur hotpants, or a cardboard box for a hat. Also, no mink eyelashes were sighted on people who were not us).

But for now:

• John Varvatos presents a show with a sobering, spectacular view and also: lots of dudes.
• LeAnn Rimes is such a pretty girl. Why does she wear so much makeup? Also, get that hair out of your face, and stand up straight, young lady.
• Donna freaking Martin makes an appearance. Now if we could only track down Brenda...
• It turns out Julianne Moore, whilst always lovely, is best as a redhead, much like Anne Shirley.

Fashion Week continues apace, full of humidity, rain showers, hot tennis players, and yet more Vincent Gallo. We accidentally made eye contact with him the other day. It was scary...yet somehow intriguing. It felt a lot like this:

In all fairness, though, in spite of looking...you know, like he wandered away from the Manson Compound, Vincent HAS seemed rather cheery and enthusiastic every time we've seen him so far this week. Maybe he's turned over a new leaf, one that doesn't involve as many on-screen sex acts.

Voila, Ye Olde Highlight Reel:

• We are, yet again, rather mean to Jessica Simpson. But seriously. What is her deal?
• We totally eyeballed pregnant Juliana Marguiles and her sexy fiance. We saw them canoodling last year and said to each other, "each other, that dude with Juliana Marguiles is HOT. Girlfriend needs to lock that down!" And now she has. We feel so proud. Also, we have to note that we're aware that almost everything we've said in the last week has somehow featured the phrase, "total hottie," but in our defense...I don't know. Boys are cute. If two girls on the loose in the Big Apple can't appreciate, say, Nigel Barker, what has the world come to, I ask of you? What? PS: Roger Federer is hot, too.
• So are Alyson Hannigan's new bangs, thank god.
• Did someone say "Roger Federer?"  His hotness actually received APPLAUSE at Oscar de le Renta.
• Ending the hot streak? Ryan Cabrera.

The humidity tried to beat us down on Friday, clenched its gnarled fists again on Saturday, and whupped us but good on Sunday. Still, it doesn't ruin our moods -- Bryant Park looks pretty, if crowded; the clothes are cute; the cold Diet Cokes go down like magic tonic; and there was a glut of celebrities taking in whatever shows they could before flying west for the VMAs. We are trying not to feel deserted.

Here are the highlights:

• Ivana Trump really should've been talking to Padma Lakshmi about Top Chef. It's what we'd have done. Well, no, we'd probably have sat there in silence thinking, "God, I really should be talking to Padma about Top Chef, but all I can do is stare at my pedicure and wonder why it's not holding up very well." But Ivana Trump doesn't have our problems.
• Somebody please give Candace Bushnell some nap time. Maybe All My Children can give her a holiday, like they did for the beguiling Leven Rambin.
• It's nice to see Nicole Richie continuing to class up her baby bump, even though we can't always see it.
• Kate Bosworth shouldn't do her hair that way. Couldn't Anna Wintour have counseled her?
• Kyra Segwick is wee.
• Janet Jackson looks fine, everyone. Let's just calm down about her ass.
• Demi Moore COULD NOT keep her hands off Ashton Kutcher. Not that w blame her. In fact, it was sort of endearing.
• Vincent Gallo is still gross; Samuel L. Jackson is still motherfuggin' awesome. And when they're in the same photo, it just makes them each look more like they belong in those categories.
• Poor Gossip Girl kid. She really needed a handler to make sure she got to the Peter Som show before it started.

We do wish we'd been able to see Molly Sims' whole outfit from the Max Azria show in the moment, rather than so far after the fact. Behold: