On Thursday, Sept. 17, designer Tommy Hilfiger celebrated the grand opening of his global flagship store on Fifth Avenue with a luxurious soirée preceding his runway show at Bryant Park.

Mr. Hilfiger attended the party in a navy blazer over a striped dress shirt and tie, white pants, and brown loafers; no socks. Six male models stood in formation outside the entrance in matching blazers, stoically gazing across Fifth Avenue.

On the designer’s arm was wife Dee Ocleppo in a blue one-shoulder draped mini-dress with tan suede peep-toe pumps. Hilfiger’s daughter Ally wore a flesh-toned strapless dress, teal booties and an armful of silver bangles.

Gathered in a living-room-like setting within the store (Persian rug included), the Hilfiger clan welcomed guests, accepting their congratulations and posing for photos. Mr. Hilfiger snapped a few shots of his own on his personal digital camera as DJ Cassidy kept it old-school with songs like "Uptown Girl."

Actress Mena Suvari may have been the only one to check the weather before heading out to the party. Covered up in a black trench that she kept on even once inside the store, the actress was well-suited to handle the brisk fall weather that left many other red-carpeteers shivering. It seemed as though the rest of the ladies interpreted the motif of Tommy’s new line (“California free and easy”) a bit too literally.

Midway through the event, Vogue editor Anna Wintour arrived at the store, wearing a chocolate-metallic suit and beige sandals. She made a swift tour, accidentally brushing the Observer's cheap Forever 21 bag; we felt too chastened to speak.

Actress Naomi Watts stood out in a long sleeved, cream-colored backless sheath. Mad Men star January Jones was eye-catching in a hot pink sheath designed by the man of the hour, “of course,” she said. As soon as her red-carpet obligations were complete, Ms. Jones smartly covered up with the black Madewell leather jacket she arrived in.

“I’m going to go on vacation for most of October, so I’m really excited,” she told The Observer, conceding that Fashion Week wasn’t all to blame. “I just finished shooting my show, so it’s time for a break.”

Dark wood paneling and bookcases on the main floor shelved neatly folded shirts organized by color among brightly hued books. Adding to the Ivy League ambiance were busts of American presidents of yore, also painted in primary colors and clustered among like-colored books and clothes. Nestled beneath the staircase was a shiny red motorcycle.

“I’m wearing Ralph Lauren. No, no, I’m kidding,” said actor Penn Badgely. This was his first event at Fashion Week, on its last day. “I’m wearing Tommy Hilfiger.”

As for the clothes themselves, it was hard to say. Mostly, the economy informed the spin.

Modest? Luxury would be tacky, out of sync with the national mood.

Extravagant? But fashion should be fun, a fantasy!

Challenging? Don’t play it safe; now’s a time for ideas.

Accessible? Have to pay attention to the bottom line—what women want to wear.

Click through to see some of the week’s standouts and how they reflected on 2009.

The panel—which included Milk’s creative director, Mazdack Rassi; Open Ceremony co-founders Carol Lim and Humberto Leon; Proenza Schouler designers Jack McCullough and Lazaro Hernandez; New School Dean of Fashion Simon Collins; and designer Alexander Wang—looked a bit the worse for wear. Of course, it was the last day of Fashion Week.

“The whole point of these shows,” Ms. Menkes began, “has been to showcase American fashion.” She asked the Proenza Schouler designers—who had presented at Milk Studios the night before—if there was anything they would have done differently.

“All you really need is passion and a point of view,” Mr. Hernandez said, not really answering.

Talk turned quickly to the topic of technology. Ms. Menkes asked if there was an alternative to the traditional runway show.

“I’ve had to face as a journalist, the fact that bloggers—maybe they can do my job and do it better,” she said.

Mr. Lazaro argued that technology had already changed fashion by making it more democratic.

“Everyone’s gonna see it on the Internet the next day,” he said.

“You haven’t quite answered my question,” Ms. Menkes said, and moved on to Mr. Collins. His advice for designers?

“Get a job first. Make all the mistakes with someone else’s money.”

“You’re pretty keen on parties,” Ms. Menkes said, turning quickly to Mr. Wang.

The designer—looking especially casual in sweat pants, and a dirty, ripped white t-shirt, had held a party the night before in the gas station next to Milk Studios. He started talking about “finding the right people to dress.”

There was still no word on the industry’s future.

  “We’re involved in creating the image of fashion,” Mr. Rassi said of his increasingly influential studio and event space. “We know that television and the Internet will merge in the next 5 years. That’s really the future of media. It’s all merging together.”

But what about fashion?

“Can anyone be a fashion designer?” Ms. Menkes asked. “Can anyone be a journalist? Can anyone be a stylist?”

“If you put enough monkeys in a room with typewriters, one of them will eventually write Shakespeare,” Mr. Collins said.

“These bloggers are starting to get invited to shows,” Mr. McCullough said, somewhat shocked.

Ms. Menkes opened the floor for questions from the students.

“We don’t want to hear any rants,” Ms. Menkes said. “Anybody out there want to make a pitch?” One girl stood up with her look book, asking the Opening Ceremony founders to take a gander.

Then, suddenly:

“I have to go off and see Calvin Klein,” Ms. Menkes said. “Lucky me.”

But what is the future of the fashion industry? Where are the answers?

“Students have said to me ‘I want to be the new Calvin Klein’ or ‘I want to be the new Rodarte.’" she said. "I just want to say to you all, no you don’t. You want to be yourselves. Fashion needs individuality and individual imagination far more than it needs a carbon copy of any of the designers out there. So remember that. You are the most important people in the industry now.”

Designer Francisco Costa sent out his models looking like futuristic newborns: wet hair in minimalist ponytails, bodies glistening with baby oil. They wore neutral-colored dresses in high-textured fabrics that had a predisposed shape entirely different from that of a woman's figure.

Afterwards, reporters surrounded Ms. Mendes to find outwhat she thought.

"I love the colors," she said. "I like that kind of coral one and the chartreuse one. I just think it was an elegant, easy, beautiful collection."

But is it something she can see herself wearing on a red carpet, someone asked? "I think, you know, there's ways to  work around things," she replied. "The things that are sort of see-through, you can always add a slip under without messing up the integrity of the dress or the intention that Francisco wanted. So yes, there's always a way to make it red-carpet right."

Someone else asked about Ms. Mendes's experience shooting the black and white campaign for the fashion house, in which she and model Jamie Dornan lay around in their underwear.

"I mean, being lathered in oil from head to toe and try to pretend that that's normal--that's always a little strange," said Ms. Mendes. "But it was wonderful and I couldn't be happier with the results."

Stylist Rachel Zoe was playing with a Barbie doll in a sparkly dress; actor Michael Douglas showed up in a leather blazer and created such a mob scene that socialite editor Lauren Santo Domingo almost went toppling off the runway while just trying to get to her seat; socialite and now Marie Claire associate market director Amanda Hearst's seat was all the way back in Row 5 (though we're pretty sure she never showed); and supermodel Sasha Pivovarova, who's usually a strong runway presence, seemed to have the sniffles.

But more importantly, when Mr. Kors's chosen music came on, it was so loud and the bass was so strong that our backside literally vibrated in the seat with each thump. The song was "Poker Face," by Lady Gaga. In fact, the entire soundtrack for the show consisted of songs from her album. "Poker Face" also played at Dennis Basso earlier in a remixed version and at practically every party the Transom attended this week. All of which made us realize that the attention the singer has received (directly or indirectly) this Fashion Week trumped that of any designer, celebrity, or socialite. Not even Madonna or the Olsen twins could compete.

Ms. Gaga's brilliant parade began last Friday, when she arrived at a charity fundraiser given by the BGC Partners, an inter-dealer brokerage firm. On Sunday, she was at the MTV Video Music Awards at Radio City Music Hall, where she changed outfits (all insane) five times and hung above the stage, dripping "blood." On Monday, she attended the Marc Jacobs show in motorcycle gloves, a leather mask with spikes, and a white blazer . That evening she performed at a party hosted by V magazine and Mr. Jacobs at Hiro in a see-through, lace bodysuit and a gold crown. The following night she was with gossip blogger Perez Hilton at the launch of cocoperez.com, his new fashion site. The same night she arrived late at The Box for a bash thrown by Out--though oddly, she refused to pose for photos there.

And where Ms. gaga didn't actually show up, she still seemed to be a presence: Designers either talked about how much they loved her style and reviewers speculated about  the singer's "pantlessness" affecting designers' collections this season.

God only knows where we'll find her tonight. And yet, we pray she is still in town. 

In lieu of a traditional catwalk at designer Peter Som’s 3:30 P.M. showing at Milk Studios on Wednesday, Sept. 16, viewers including Anna Wintour and Lynn Yaeger were pleasantly surprised with a much more relaxed and informal presentation of his Spring collection

The especially young models, perched in shiny chrome or deep-blue pumps, posed in groups of three on white pedestals while the crowd milled below them.

The liberty of movement gave the Transom ample time to speak with the designer and inquire about the benefits of showing a collection in this manner.

“The presentation was more intimate and you can see the clothes up close, “ Mr. Som said. “It felt right to me.” He described the inspiration for his patterns and colors as a “mixing up” of cruise ships, antique photographs and Japanese prints.

Outfitted in silhouettes giving an early-1950s retro look, numerous shades of aquas and deep blues gave way to grays, reds and oranges—a real rainbow of hues that ranged from desaturated to glittery. Patterns were just as varied, included uniform splotches of shiny paint and faded horizontal stripes.

But then there was the designer's "family row. "There sat mom Ricky, daughter Dylan of Dylan's Candy Bar, sons Andrew (a film producer) and David (who works for his father), and David's girlfriend, model and designer Lauren Bush. Shortly before the show began, Janet Jackson, wearing a black pencil skirt, a white blouse and gray sweater, all of this neatly belted together, was brought out and seated between Andrew and Dylan. He appeared shy, but Ms. Lauren seemed excited by the pop-star's presence.

As the show began, Ms. Lauren and Ms. Jackson discussed each piece as it came out: heavy-duty denim  paired with feminine blouses; pretty cotton summer dresses; and masculine pinstriped suits with newsboy caps. Each time a model strutted by the pair, Dylan would whisper something in Janet's ear and then rub her fingers together in that way that suggests  the particular feel of a fabric. Then Janet would rub her fingers together too in response. And so there would be moments when both women were fiercely rubbing their fingers and whispering into each other's hair. Then they would both nod at each other and smile.

When the long, silk dresses came out, Janet actually mouthed, "I LOVE it," so clearly that the Transom could read her lips from across the room.

"Hi, Mr. Florio! Can we have a minute of your time for the Observer?" we asked.

He looked up nervously and said, "Oh, no. Are you going to ask me about McKinsey?"

"Um, no?"

"Okay, then."

Mr. Florio told us that his Fashion Week schedule is fairly relaxed and that so far he has been to Max Azria, Thakoon, and Tory Burch. "I try to do a mix of fashion leaders like Oscar as well as newer designers," he said.

If fashion editors attend shows to plan future spreads and retailers to place orders, the Transom wondered, why is someone like Mr. Florio there?

"I look for trends," he said. Like knee-high boots and sculpted shoulders?

He laughed. "No, I look for trends in the business," he said, "Like the whole idea of luxury at a better price point, which is something Tory Burch is doing. I try to get a sense of the sociological trends which our editors will adapt. It just ads a little context. You need to understand the business trends like global warming and fabrics getting lighter and more transitional pieces in fashion. If you can speak intelligently about these things when you sell ad pages, you can sort of take their [advertisers'] point of view."

Interesting! We then asked Mr. Florio what sorts of responses he's gotten to R.J. Cutler's The September Issue, in which he appears a warm and likeable fellow, gallantly defending Ms. Wintour's perceived remoteness.

"The feedback that I have received is that brought back the creativity and hard work of what it means to be in the fashion business," he said. He paused for a moment. "As opposed to those reality shows where these amateurs portray the business as very frivolous."

Did we mention that Elle's Anne Slowey, the star of CW's Stylista, was sitting right across the aisle?

“I’m just the bellhop,” one of them shrugged as someone chose to forego the rapidly forming line outside.

Betsey Johnson, as expected, threw herself a party last night instead of just a regular runway show. The models stood on a stage in strapless dresses and rainbow shirts, drinking Champagne straight from the bottle and passing around a joint.

Bad models.

Norwegian rock singer Ida Maria played super-loud on a second stage while the models, getting increasingly less lucid, shimmied and shook, some awkwardly, others kind of like strippers.

“Find a cure for my life,” Ms. Maria sang, the distortion from her guitar blaring above all other noise in the Plaza Hotel. With her black jumpsuit and hair gelled straight up to the sky, she looked like she was in Eraserhead.

“This is the only show I would play. Betsey Johnson is fabulous,” Ms. Maria said. “She’s so rock and roll!”

Ms. Johnson came out howling with laughter and stormed the stage wearing a yellow dress and black mesh corset, falling on top of her models.

The crowd was also sipping Champagne--mini-botles, through pink straws.

Ms. Johnson rushed the other stage where the band was playing and took the microphone. She didn’t say much. Just “Thank you, thank you,” and ended with a loud “yay!”

“Any questions?” Ms. Johnson asked the crowd.

Even though it seemed to take a backseat to this carnival mess of a fashion show, the collection was actually really impressive. Ms. Johnson’s designs, which included lingerie-inspired party dresses, had their usual general feeling of costume-lke, overexaggerated absurdity.

It was like the exhausted audience had stood up and began singing “Take Me Out to the Ball Game.”

So people were getting a little burned out, that’s to be expected, but Brian Reyes’s exciting collection was the perfect antidote.

The audience included Mexican pop singer Thalia—in some impressive gator-skin stilettos—with her husband, music executive Tommy Mottola, and Kelly Rowland.

Ms. Rowland sucked on a blue lollipop and hid her eyes behind a pair of dark sunglasses. She was decked out in all black, and looked like a rock star from another era. 

Mr. Reyes’s designs included dresses with a colorful “bleeding heart print,” shorts—really short shorts that could have easily passed for lingerie--and black “skeletal” patterns that looked like Rorschach inkblot tests.

The Temptations came on the speakers as the models stomped down the runway, and Ms. Rowland danced and sang in her chair.

When it was over, Mr. Reyes came out in a pair of scuffed tennis shoes, looking exceptionally comfortable, like he’d saved all the excitement for his clothing.

He offered up a necessary jolt of energy to get through the day.