It’d be easy to confuse Asher Levine’s Tribeca basement studio for a special effects laboratory rather than the work space and showroom of one of Hollywood’s favorite emerging menswear designers.

Inside the door stands a cloaked and hooded figure in a red-ribbed death mask. Farther back, there is an assortment of horror-movie ephemera hanging from the ceiling and lying in glass cases: skull-shaped caps, rubbery monster gloves and a gigantic mold of what looks like a tyrannosaurus egg. In the middle of the room, veined human-size bat wings bloom out of slim leather jacket, a grotesquely beautiful Alexander McQueen vision in polyurethane.

On the Tuesday before New York’s Fashion Week, a group of young men joked around in the studio, taking off their clothes to show off tattoos and abdominal muscles. Unlike their female counterparts, these models come in varied sizes and ages: there was a 6-foot-4, soft-spoken Channing Tatum lookalike who was only 16, a 38-year-old with a grizzled two-day beard and a meaty build, and the emaciated blond Beau, who resembled Pete Doherty as rendered by Larry Clark.

“Don’t let anyone tell you that girl and boy models are the same,” explained one hunk. “We don’t have eating problems, and we know that you don’t mix Adderall with Molly.” (Molly is a pure form of the synthetic drug Ecstasy.)

Half the models claimed to know the downtown designer personally, even as Mr. Levine—a 24-year-old who could be a model himself, discounting his height—slipped into his studio unnoticed and walked right past them.

In the past three years, Asher Levine has risen to cult celebrity status, or at least to cult status among celebrities. His costumes have been worn by the Black Eyed Peas, Bruno Mars, the Scissor Sisters, Jared Leto and, most famously, Lady Gaga, who was chicly adorned in Mr. Levine’s straitjacket-inspired dress during a 2010 paparazzo clash and poured into a Levine-designed post-apocalyptic black rubber body-hugger in her “Marry the Night” video.

Mr. Levine began his label by using himself as a sandwich board, biking around the West Village in “the most outrageous leotards and wrestling singlets of neon colors,” recalled artist Slava Mogutin, a friend and collaborator. The flashy costumes were unconventional, but his ambitions were not.

Mr. Levine graduated from Pace University with a degree in business management in 2010. Unlike many young designers who find themselves in debt and adrift before attaining commercial success, Mr. Levine is very mindful of his bottom line. He has exceeded his own projections by 50 percent each of the last three quarters, despite continually pressing his figures higher. Fueled in large part by his celebrity following, he’s gone from being a one-man design shop to overseeing approximately 35 employees, including head of production Tim Dejsiriudom and communications director Stefan Golangco.

Being business-savvy isn’t the worst thing for a designer. His company is contractually obligated to keep investors updated on emerging technologies and their possible uses in fashion. Mr. Levine writes these reports himself, along with his company’s quarterly projections. Since most of the money comes through custom designs and celebrity clients, Mr. Levine and his crew will look for the release date of a previous client’s new album—the designer gave will.i.am as an example—and plan on making something for the tour. While he also has an online store featuring bespoke creations, Mr. Levine does not currently have a ready-made line.

“We’re selling a lifestyle,” The Observer was repeatedly told by Mr. Levine, as well as by Mr. Golangco and Mr. Dejsiriudom. And though the lifestyle in question has been branded “rock star” by the team, it may as well be “futurist.”

As absurdly impractical and theatrical as some of his high-concept costumes may be, the idea behind them is a sort of 21st-century functionality. For example, Mr. Levine’s next line will feature microchips embedded in the clothing. The chip will be linked up to its owner’s cellphone, and in case you lose one or the other, you can either call your jacket or trigger your trousers to make the items beep until they are discovered.

“Imagine ... you’ll never lose your phone again,” Mr. Levine proudly told us. He's working with the software company Phone Halo to develop the project. Later, Mr. Golangco would describe the microchips as a way “to never lose a piece of Asher Levine clothing.”

Mr. Levine’s theme this season is “theatricality,” an apt description for a floppy vest-and-pants combination made out of black silicone and a neoprene compound. (“It’s kind of like a wet suit,” Mr. Levine admitted.)

Inspired by one of his friends, ’80s power-ballad rocker Jim Steinman, this season’s show—set in the MMAC studio on West 60th—is a twist on the lyricist’s classic “Total Eclipse of the Heart.” Mr. Levine hired a animator to come up with 3D graphics for the show’s intro. And if this all sounds a touch melodramatic, you should have seen the fall show.

“Last season, we held the whole production on a yacht off the pier,” Mr. Dejsiriudom, a small, stylish pixie boy, told The Observer. Turn around, bright eyes.

The season before that, Mr. Levine tapped into the then-unheard-of trend of 3D printing, with models sporting eyewear from MakerBot. The founders of the additive manufacturing company were in attendance along with their machines, and after the performance, audience members were encouraged to go up and get a tutorial on the cutting-edge technology.

On Saturday evening, the basement studio was unusually quiet for a fashion house three days before showtime—the Asher Levine show was slated for Tuesday night at 7 p.m.—and though people kept paying lip service to how “insane” everything was, the subterranean experience was almost cozy.

Mr. Levine was unperturbed when he found out that instead of 12 looks for the show this season, stylist Andrew Mukamal had mixed and matched the outfits—which ranged from a wool sweater inlaid with rubber diamonds to an oversized cape with an unusually large, stiff cowl—to a final 16.

“Oh,” said Mr. Levine, sporting a homemade tie-dyed terry sweater that he would wear all week. “That’s really great.” Mr. Golangco was less pleased, as he now had to find at least two more models.

Pizza and Thai food were ordered, the interns dyed denim in giant vats on the stove and the DIY dynamic was palpable: everyone pulling together to create a large artistic experience. The scene could have taken place in Bushwick, except for the fact that no one was worried about bedbugs.

Expected at the show was the eclectic mix of VIPs, trendsetters and fashion journalists who have become part of Levine’s fan base. Angela Simmons, rap star Waka Flocka, skate star Johnny Weir, fashion editor Eddie Roche, luxury lifestyle consultant Jesse Garza, Bruce Pask and Jason Rider of T Magazine. Longtime fan and friend Jared Leto isn’t on the list for this season’s show, but he has been in the front row for seasons prior.

Fataah Dihaan, creative director of the art video website ARCADE 44, spoke of Mr. Levine’s following: “Sure, you’ll see Jared Leto at the shows, but then there’s those kids on the club scene, they’re constantly wearing Asher Levine. They’re creating trends in the social/nightlife scene, and those kids have their pulse on what’s going to be next.”

For Mr. Levine and his crew, “next” means looking toward how they plan on selling their product. “We’d love to get into a high concept store like L’eclaireur in Paris, or Barneys, or I.T. in Hong Kong,” Mr. Dejsiriudom told us. “All the high-concept stores.” Mr. Levine also told The Observer that he’d like to see his line sold on Fab.com.

“All these online stores, that’s the future,” Mr. Levine said, returning to his bat jacket, which had spouted six new wings since we first arrived. “That’s where a lot of emerging designers should be looking.”

He should know.

Moncler's Human Forest (Video)

Of course, the biggest fans of Moncler that evening were the Brant brothers, who have yet to see a Fashion Week event that they couldn't throw their teenaged two cents on.

How long until they come out with their own flash mob, do you think?

Goofus and Gallant.

A Winter Advisory warning for two feet of snow couldn't have come at a worse time for all those fashionistas who make their biannual bread during the upcoming weeks. While we'd never encourage anyone to take risks during Blizzard Nemo (awww ... even the name makes us sleepy!), it's also not a day to slack off! There is Fashion to reported on, people! However, there's definitely a "right" and a "wrong" way to cover it. Here, our friends Goofus and Gallant take us on a journey through the Fall 2013 line during a snowstorm.

- Gallant works from his home, careful to be aware of any Advisory Warnings from the MTA, Amtrak and airlines.

- Goofus still tries to make it to tent shows today and shuttles from Milk Studios to Lincoln Center, thinking, "A blizzard can't stop fashion!"

- Gallant rechecks the official Mercedes-Benz schedule to see about any cancellations or updates to his day.

- Goofus doesn't even glance at Twitter; ends up waiting two hours for a Marc Jacobs show that has already been rescheduled.

- Gallant realizes after several hours that he might not even need to go to the actual shows; bloggers posting real-time updates and Getty Images give him everything he needs besides an hourlong wait in a freezing auditorium.

- Goofus still bitches to his friends that he remembers the real Fashion Week ... when it was still held in tents.

- Gallant keeps up with his contacts and gets real-time information by using the phones during today's storm.

- Goofus pretends his wifi is down and watches House of Cards all day.

Victor Cruz, Italo Zucchelli and Justin Theroux at the Calvin Klein show in Milan. (McMullan)

Shindigger is simply mad about all things Italian: the food, the language, the people, the clothes, the midday naps! And so we had no choice but to jet off to Milano to take in Men’s Fashion Week, one structured cashmere blazer at a time. Shindigger was front and center at shows including Ermenegildo Zegna, Dolce & Gabbana, Burberry Prorsum, Versace and Salvatore Ferragamo. Being “Gli americani,” we were sure not to miss Calvin Klein Collection’s runway show and after-party, with appearances by English pop songstress Ellie Goulding and a rare live deejay set by Hercules and Love Affair. The brand had flown in Victor Cruz and Justin Theroux to add to the abnormally attractive chaos in Calvin Klein’s opaque, modern showroom at Viale Umbria, 37. 

The line itself was wearable and innovative, with painstaking craftsmanship that wasn’t too flashy. We were especially struck by the techno outerwear in black cashmere and herringbone heather wool.

Italo Zucchelli, Calvin Klein Collection’s creative director of menswear, said that this season’s fabrications were particularly challenging to execute. “Complicated in a good way,” he said in his delicate Ligurian accent.

Shindigger headed over to perennial front-row Calvin Klein fixture and Giants wide receiver Victor Cruz, in from New York for the show and a lavish weekend of shopping with his girlfriend. “It’s fun!” said the handsome player known to American football fans for celebrating touchdowns with a little salsa dancing. “We ate our faces off. We went shopping. I went shopping at the Calvin Klein boutique. My girlfriend went to Giuseppe Zanotti, YSL ...”

Mr. Cruz lit up when asked about Milano nightlife, explaining that he was staying at Hotel Principe di Savoia, Fashion Week’s party headquarters. “The Principe is always another world all to itself. It’s always fun being there,” he confessed. “I just wanna have a good time and leave Milano with a bang.”

Mr. Cruz undoubtedly deserved one, considering that the Giants did not finish the regular season with any sparks whatsoever. “I’d prefer to still be playing right now,” he told us. And suddenly our football star was shuffled away before Shindigger was able to ask him if he ever dared salsa without a helmet. Oh well—on to the party!

AND A PARTY IT WAS! After enjoying healthy pours of amarone at an earlier Roberto Cavalli penthouse party, Shindigger was driven in a Ford Fiesta to Pier Lombardo, 14. It was as if we had been transported to industrial Williamsburg: brick, rust, wooden beams and all. We beelined it straight to the bar, where poor yet dashing bar twinks (uniformed in Calvin Klein One) were kept at a grueling pace.

“It’s my first time for the men’s shows,” enthused Norwegian model and Calvin Klein “it” girl Hanneli Mustaparta, who had also been flown in from New York to attend the festivities. She was raving about Mr. Zucchelli’s intricate designs and color palette when Ellie Goulding took stage. “I’m excited to see her,” Ms. Mustaparta yelled over the dance tunes.

“Who’s gonna get me a drink?” blurted Ms. Goulding into the mic after a sultry rendition of Elton John’s “Your Song.” About four songs later, she ended with her hit “Lights,” which really got the energy up.

Afterward, we were in hot pursuit of Mr. Theroux when we bumped into the blond songstress of the evening. “You look amazing in that Calvin Klein dress,” Shindigger screeched over the blaring beats. “It feels sexy and I like what it does to my boobs,” she yelled back.

This festa was rowdy compared with our habitual Park Avenue fetes. Bodies swayed, the band was stupendous and attendees furiously continued to pillage the bar.

A few rounds later, Shindigger was still chewing the fat with old Italian friends and New York editors.

“It’s a great party! I’m happy to be here,” exclaimed our old friend Mr. Cruz, who proved to us he could hit the dance floor sans uniform. We asked him how he had passed the rest of his day after the runway show. “We just took the day to relax, hang out, get a massage; we ordered room service and then got dressed and came here.”

Not bad for a whirlwind VIP weekend, we thought, while he added that he was a big “sneaker advocate,” which Shindigger certainly could figure out ourselves, noting his pairing of a slim-tailored suit with Nike Air Jordans, which, to our surprise, worked charmingly. Eyeing a refill of our toxic champagne/vodka potion, we asked Mr. Cruz his cure for the inevitable Fashion Week hangover.

“Fluid. I drink tons of water, tons of juice ... anything I can get my hands on. I gotta stay on top.”

With that, Shindigger finally had to let our favorite Milano date salsa away from us.

When the Cruz-less Calvin Klein blowout finally ran dry several hours later, we migrated with the in-crowd to Plastic for more mayhem, awakening a few hours later to find ourselves rushing to the much-too-early Armani show. È la dolce vita!

Kara Laricks with Broadway star Montego Glover at her presentation last week.

As New York shovels up the Fashion Week embers around town after the onslaught, The Observer still has a few loose ends. One thing we wanted to know in all the ruckus was how the new comers had fared.

Kara Laricks, the winner of NBC reality show Fashion Star, is certainly a new face in the crowded sea of designers. Under the tutelage design mentors Jessica Simpson, John Varvatos and Nicole Richie, Ms. Laricks convinced the buyers' judging panel from H&M, Macy's and Saks Fifth Avenue that her creations were worthy of the $6m capsule collection award. The show was a hit: Nielsen TV Ratings Data reported 4.81 million viewers for the finale, and NBC has already renewed Fashion Star for a second season and begun casting. We caught up with Ms. Laricks after her first presentation at Runway@Pier 57 last week to get all the buzz about her début. Were her masculine-feminine-meets-1920s-Japanese matchbox looks a triumph or did she she fall flat?

What did it feel like to finally present your first bona fide fashion week presentation?

I felt vulnerable!  In the past, if my collection was not well received, I was under the protective wing of The Academy of Art University, NBC, Saks Fifth Avenue, Macy's, H&M ... this time, the pressure was all on me.  However, there was never any question as to whether or not I would continue designing post Fashion Star and I knew "sticking my neck out there" would be worth the risk no matter what the response. Now that my first collection has been shown at New York fashion week and the reviews are rolling in, I feel exhilarated, proud and accomplished. Can't wait for the next!

Any dramas or disasters leading up to the big day?

Of course - wouldn't be fashion without a little bit of drama ... one of my models was stuck at a Calvin Klein fitting until minutes before my presentation - thank goodness for my talented (and speedy) hair and makeup team.

What did you do to keep calm?

I am always amazed when people remark that I appear calm, as I am usually a ball of nerves on the inside. However, I instantly calm down when I pause and take a look around at all of the incredible people who support me.

So now that Fashion Star is over, what has been your biggest struggles?

Putting together my first collection hasn't been a steep learning curve, but a right angle. For the first time, I have had to figure out how to produce an entire line, secure PR, a venue, models and the list goes on. The biggest challenge is keeping my fans and consumers informed of the process. Fans of Fashion Star were used to seeing a garment one evening and buying it the following day.  In the "real" world, it takes six months to develop a collection, show the collection to buyers and take orders—then add on another six months for production and delivery to stores.  It's tough not to get the people what they want when they want it!

Are you still tight with the cast?

Absolutely! Nzimiro, Nikki, Sarah and Edmond were at my presentation, cheering me on. I also received well wishes from the rest of the cast that wasn't able to be there. I had no idea a reality competition would turn into real friends, real support and real dreams come true.

What’s one thing you absolutely hate about fashion week?

The fact that when I am presenting my own collection, I do not have time too see other designers' work—I am still catching up— so grateful for Style.com!

Creative Director Francisco Costa alongside Diane Kruger, Emma Stone and Amy Adams.

We love the clean lines and abstract nature of Francisco Costa’s designs for Calvin Klein Collection. Of Brazilian descent, he has an unmatchable talent for creating wearable art that is minimal and wearable—perhaps the only one who provides a Parisian level of artistic thrills in New York.

We had some time to spare before the show began—a departure from our general habit of sprinting four blocks and arriving sweaty and out of breath at the last minute. We left our seat-mates Bianca Jagger, Julie Macklowe and Kelly Klein, to name a few, to explore the front rows.

Amy Adams, Diane Kruger, Emma Stone and photographer Patrick Demarchelier were all present, but our vigilant eyes sought out someone less obvious: W Magazine’s Fashion and Style Director, Edward Enninful.

“What are some of the highlights for you?” The Observer asked.

"September is the January of fashion," said Edward Enniful, who was flanked by Hollywood's hottest.

“Oh my goodness, there have been a couple of really great shows. I really enjoyed Proenza [Schouler]. I really enjoyed Rodarte, Marc Jacobs,” he replied, browsing the endless catalog of styles he had presumably witnessed in the past week; an unbearable fashion overload, it seems.

“How have you enjoyed W and growing there?” we carried on.

“With a great team, there is so much freedom ... It kinda of encourages you to do the best you can. We’re having a ball!” Mr. Enninful told The Observer.

Indeed, but is the ball worthwhile, we wanted to know. “Why is fashion week so important for stylists?”

“It’s like the Oscars of fashion. It’s like a get-together on one hand, and you decide how the whole year is going to be, how the whole season is going to be mapped out. September is the January of fashion.”

Well put. We bid adieu to Mr. Enniful, who was off to London in a few hours for more style and mayhem.

There was a sense of powerful austerity and dark romance for spring 2013, and it delivered a bold, physical (read: sexualized) reaction. There is a curiosity to the clothing, one that our fashion eyes could not decipher. Chiaroscuro, cinched waists and overemphasized busts, and innovative fabrics captured the fashion frenzy’s weary attention. The looks featured interesting moiré appearances, glossy leathers layered over tranquil matte crepes and cotton voiles in muted black, reed and cream colors. It highlighted a richness that was not opulently crass.

Looks from the spring 2013 collection.

A novice would have likened the proportions of several dresses to rolls of toilet paper under silk or waxed netting over a cage, but such individuals shouldn’t even be permitted to grace a Calvin Klein Collection boutique.

To end with a bang is no small feat after innumerable ready-to-wear collections of relatively unmoving, routinely practical and safe proportions. American’s sportswear isn’t in a rut; it just is what it is. How lucky we are to have Calvin Klein’s Mr. Costa. We don’t have any callous commentary, just rare bliss, which sadly ended the moment we exited onto ghastly, repulsive 39th Street.

Ralph Lauren’s richness of an España that is long gone these days was le look du jour in New York.

There is something organized and memorable about the last day of fashion week. Despite the grueling pace, late nights, early mornings and simply divine personalities we endure, there is an orderly sense of energy at the Ralph Lauren and Calvin Klein Collection shows. Publicists are graceful and polite, photo check-in is straightforward, seating disasters are delicately avoided and celebs are accessible, or, if not, polite about it.

Such was the case yesterday morning in West Soho when Mr. Lauren held his 80th runway presentation. His front row of stars dressed in his premium line included Jessica Alba, Olivia Wilde and most of the members of the Ralph Lauren Royal Family.

For spring 2013, Mr. Lauren progressed from something South American to ornate looks that were undeniably Catalan and Castilian, with tomato suede jackets, amethyst silk marocaine trousers, cotton ruffle shirting in white and beautiful scarlet dresses. There were black calf woven totes and hats. The styling seemed a bit overwrought, but the majority of this overload was eliminated when the evening wear flowed in.

Incredible brocade and beaded boleros influenced by los toreros of Spain, black double-faced wool jackets and dresses, a stunning, full-length beaded tulle skirt, and scarlet dresses with embroidery and beading. It was wearable and eternally elegant.

Once we had caught our breath from all that beauty, The Observer beelined it to U.S. swimmer Ryan Lochte.

“You’ve been to quite a lot of fashion shows and events this week, what are some of your highlights?” The Observer wanted to know.

“You know what? This right here. I love dressing in Ralph Lauren. It’s just amazing, it fits perfect,” replied Mr. Lochte.

Yes, yes we all love a wardrobe chock full of Ralph Lauren, Mr. Lochte, we’re wearing some ourselves for god's sake! Nevertheless, Mr. Lochte refused to move off-script despite our uninterested posture and facial expresses.

Connor Dwyer and Ryan Lochte

“No other better way to end fashion week with this show,” he continued in his monotone jock voice.

Moving on, we asked the decorated Olympic swimmer if he planned to carry the party on to London, Milan or Paris. He commented that his favorite event was the Us Weekly party.

“Have you got the Fashion Week fever?” we asked. " Will you be going to shows in Paris?"

“You know what? If they asked me to, I’d be more than happy to. I’m getting back into the water next week to train.”

“How has your life changed or your daily regimen after the stardom?” The Observer questioned.

“No it really hasn’t, ’cuz I always have time to find the swimming and workout and change. Nothing has really changed except going to shows all the time,” he huffed, as if it were a chore.

“What would you change about Fashion Week?” we wanted to know, catering to his runway fatigue.

“That there are so many opportunities to see great designers that you can’t really go to everything. You really have to pick and choose.”

Mr. Lochte's all-American sizzle and brawny physique, while a brilliant match for the Ralph Lauren brand, didn’t quite light our fire. Drowning in his pool of mundanity, we elected to approach someone a bit more engaging; we headed toward Vogue’s André Leon Talley, who lingered long after Anna Wintour, Grace Codington, Hamish Bowles, etc. had slithered for the exit of Skylight Studios.

“You looked entranced during the show; what’s so intriguing about him still, even after all these years?” we asked.

“He is a master! This was a tour de force. This show was a virtuoso tour de force,” proclaimed the extravagant editor, replete in his muumuu and couture platinum/gold chain necklace with hanging bone horn. “You can take Spain and you can absolutely sink the theme. The theme never sunk into a disaster because of the details and the workmanship."

Jackpot! Mr. Lochte had sunk our ship, but ATL was keeping us afloat!

“The attitude was modern, but the romance was Spain. But just a hint of it.

Team Vogue, with Mr. Leon Talley on the far left.

"Mr. Lauren is not saying you have to go out of the house in a dress like that. But he’s saying you have to [have a] dash of romanticism in your wardrobe. You have to have that new shoe that looks so marvelous with raffia. Or you just might want to have that perfect double-breasted suit in white.”

Mr. Leon Talley spoke the truth about Mr. Lauren’s heightened excellence in design, construction and materials. “For me it was a couture show. It was like an haute couture show in New York, which is rare.”

Truth be told, we’ll trust ATL for the Fashion Week critique and commentary and keep Mr. Lochte safely at bay underwater.

It is unclear whether Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta-Jones kept their legs uncrossed ...

“Please return to your seats!”

The typical orders were barked from the front row at Michael Kors on Wednesday, September 12 at 10 a.m. Too much too early. Due to some recent Team Kors PR shifts and rifts, we couldn’t locate the familiar faces that would help The Observer with its conquest. Where were Savannah and Lauren to sneak us past the testosterone-pumped security forces void of interpersonal skills who guarded Michael Douglas, Catherine Zeta-Jones and recent Tony-winner Nina Arianda? Yes, it’s true that I, personally would have accosted Ms. Arianda because she was so fabulous in Venus in Fur, but do Broadway stars really warrant a detail to watch cotton blazers and crepe gowns sashay up and down a walkway for 10 minutes?

“Sir, I’m sorry, but you need to take your seat please!” growled the plus-size security goon, leaving me no choice but to traipse back to section A, pondering how on earth he knew my name was “sir.”

So how, exactly, are editors who don't publish the redundant proclamations on trends for their glossy readership supposed to get those juicy interviews we so rely on for cushy page hits? Or even modest news appeal?

As we waited for the show to commence, the only thing deflecting our disappointment at missed interview ops was an unfortunate Michael Kors visuals production staffer kicking us from behind with his obnoxiously pointy boots.

“Uncross your legs and please push in your bags, ladies and gentlemen in the front row!” screeched the photography pit repeatedly. (I don’t mean to get all political ... maybe it's fine for the ladies, but frankly, forcing 200 men at a fashion show to uncross their legs sounds to me like a gay rights issue!)

Hoot, holler, belt they did, until they deemed the runway bony-leg- and Céline-bag-free enough to their liking.

Knees stayed firmly together as look No. 36 walked down at Michel Kors.

Finally the production began, and thankfully our misery was quelled within the first four looks. Mr. Kors trod the familiar  with American sportswear, this season with vague waves at the sport of golf, and crisp and clean nautical references—all with a wearable ’60s touch. Get your stripes now, people! First Marc Jacobs had people just shy of orgasm with his Edie-meets-’60s contemporary pieces, and Kors too laid the stripes on thick. Especially memorable was a studded navy plunger shift dress, which had edge. The collection had more European commercial appeal, a smart move as the now-colossal brand expands more there and in Asia. One sky print on tops and dresses was created from a picture Michael Kors had taken himself. And for evening? Mr. Kors kept things signature and simple with body-con crepe dresses with geo cutouts. As Karlie Kloss prowled down the catwalk, our seatmate whispered, “Crepe never looked sexier!”

It was true. And the punchy color palette was a stylist’s dream. There were pocketing and stitching details that added value and youth … perhaps a bit too much, said a few. The Observer overheard Jamee Gregory commenting to another UES Queen that she actually liked the youthfulness of the collection, “It was very nice, actually,” she said before debating a swim upstream to kiss-kiss Mr. Kors backstage; as this editor watched her go, he crossed my legs.

Jack Liu, Sandy Leung, Vivienne Tam and Annie Yau. (PMc)

Vivienne Tam was clear about one thing at the launch of her jewelry collaboration with TSL at Hakkasan New York on Wednesday, which brought out the likes of model Jessica Hart and Julie Macklowe: individuality is key. This goes beyond style to the Five Elements of Chinese cosmology, Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal and Water. The belief is that each person relates to a different element; for example Ms. Tam described herself as “Water, needing a bit of Fire.” Naturally, she wore red.

This explained the omnipresence of shapes incorporated into her designs at the Vivienne Tam show earlier  in the evening. The Observer learned that Earth, for example, is represented by a square. Okay, we’ve got it, so where does the jewelry come in?

“It’s about incorporating the colors of the jewelry with the clothes … the colors must work together in harmony … figuring out which dress is with which element,” Ms. Tam explained.

She was joined by Annie Yau, CEO of TSL, which, The Observer was informed, is the “Tiffany’s of China,” and one of the largest jewelers in the country.

Ms. Tam described her as the “perfect partner.”

Ms. Yau explained that her job involved “taking Vivienne’s concept and trying to make it work” as the pair recalled the chaos of the past few months, the short time in which they had to pull the collaboration off.

The result is a very personal collection, using wood, jade, gold, garnet and agate “to embolden the spirit and enhance energy.” (And it also looks rather damn good!)

The after-party for the special screening of Scatter My Ashes at Bergdorf's in celebration of its 111th Anniversary. (Neil Rasmus)

“I hope I have a job tomorrow.” That was personal shopper Betty Halbreich’s reaction to the Sept. 12 preview of Matthew Miele’s fashion documentary Scatter My Ashes at Bergdorf’s. Ms. Halbreich explained, “I spurt things without thinking!” But to others, her brutal honesty and WASPish sense of humor made her one of the film’s firm favorites. Gossip Girl costume designer Eric Damon spoke for all when he said, “It’s all about Betty.”

Ms. Halbreich, The Observer thinks you’ll be just fine.

As Fashion Week comes to a close, the celebration of Bergdorf Goodman’s 111th anniversary stepped into the spotlight. Swapping Lincoln Center’s front rows for the old-style stadium seating of The Paris Theater, a confluence of fatigued fashionistas enjoyed a show that for the first time in seven days allowed them to remain in their seats for more than 10 minutes.

A special screening of Mr. Miele’s documentary was followed by an after-party at the iconic department store. In popular culture, this lair of luxury goods and ladies-who-lunch has been a backdrop to many a movie scene and TV show; now it’s a story, and a movie, in itself. The 90-minute documentary paints a portrait of Bergdorf’s past, present and future, as Mr. Miele invites a collection of 175 of its directors, clients, employees, designers and wannabe designers to share their experiences and fondest memories of New York’s finest.

For designer Jason Wu, whom we caught up with pre-preview on the purple—not red—carpet, walking into the store is “an experience that can’t be replicated.”

As was, for us, the walk between the 58th Street theater, a haven for the city’s intellectual movie buffs, and Bergdorf’s, just around the corner on Fifth Avenue; we strolled tête-à-tête with Senior Vice President and Fashion Director Linda Fargo.

“The store isn’t just a store,” she said, “Every place has a story—it’s like a newspaper: a lot of paragraphs, a lot of voices, a lot of characters.”

Bergdorf’s rich tapestry of characters didn’t disappoint. Greeting us as we entered the store was doorman James, working his 17th year of magic at the 58th Street entrance and another memorable member of the film’s cast. And David Hoey, who before the screening modestly described himself as “the guy who does the windows,” was also prominently on display.

The windows played a starring role in the film. AndrewAndrew, regular DJs at the store—you may have spotted them there on Fashion’s Night Out—“loved the window show.” Designer Michael Kaye also observed that the whole film could have been about the spectacle from the sidewalk.

Mr. Miele has lifted the purple veil and exposed the secrets behind the glass display. The one caveat, voiced by supermodel Alva Chinn among others, was that it was “a wee bit long.” Perhaps the fashionistas’ endurance was by now conditioned by the brevity of the runway shows.

Although Fashion Week was coming to an end, the thumbs-up, thumbs-down urge continued: Best-dressed was a toss-up between stylist, socialite and model Michelle Harper, with her floor-length black and red gown and Marilyn-Monroe locks, and Michele Ouellet, muse to Libertine designer Johnson Hartig, whose multicolored coat—no it wasn’t Joseph’s—certainly turned some heads.

Mr. Miele himself confessed that he himself was “not a fashion guy at all.” He told us before the screening that his tie (appropriately purple) had been a gift from his wife. The cellphone conversation, he added later, went something like this: She said, “It’s two hundred dollars, is that too much to spend?” He said, “Where are you?” The answer? “I’m at Bergdorf’s!”