Faherty Brand swimwear.

Twin brothers Mike and Alex Faherty are not your typical beach bums. Mike Faherty spent seven years as a designer at Ralph Lauren; Alex worked as an investment banker before becoming a vice president at a private equity firm. Yet, having grown up in the coastal town of Manasquan, N.J., their favorite childhood memories were made at the shore: navigating the waves atop a surfboard or paddleboard, and holding summer barbeques at their laid-back family home.

Now, with the creation of Faherty Brand, the duo’s new luxury swimwear line, the boys are going back to their oceanside roots. “To us, life’s great moments happen at the beach,” Mike says. “We want to bring that beach vibe to New York City.” 

In April, Faherty Brand’s showroom opened for business. In an airy loft space in the Flatiron District, brightly patterned swim trunks and bikinis hang from shelves made of reclaimed barn-board, while nautical touches like model boats and glass buoys lie scattered among them. A surfboard is propped against one wall while hand-dyed Indonesian fabrics cascade from another. Entering this space feels a bit like stepping into another, much more laidback world, far from the buzz and bustle of Fifth Avenue.

“We want to be like transporters,” Mike says, “so that when people think about our brand or wear our brand, it takes them away from everyday rigors.”

A Faherty bikini.

Faherty Brand has been a life-long dream for the brothers—albeit one that took some time to get off the ground. “I actually wrote my college essay on starting this company,” Mike says. The self-described “left-brain twin,” Mike honed his fashion sensibilities studying fashion design at Washington University before taking a job as a designer at Ralph Lauren. (Side note: both twins are model-handsome, so much so that once, during an elevator ride with Ralph Lauren, Mike was told by his boss that he should go into modeling. He politely declined.)

Meanwhile, Alex, “the right-brain twin,” went to Yale and worked in investment banking before becoming a V.P. at private equity firm Cerberus Capital. Both decided to quit their jobs last year to focus solely on developing Faherty Brand. For Mike and Alex, corporate and fashion-world glory were only steppingstones to get back to the beach.

“We’re not guys who are driven by money,” Alex adds. “For us, it was more the passion behind this lifestyle.”

Growing up in board shorts, the twins were always frustrated with the lack of men’s swimwear options that were both cool and functional. “There was never a brand out there that we really identified with,” explains Alex.

With Faherty Brand, Mike and Alex were able to envision a line of swimwear that discerning urban fashionistos would want to don at their beach houses or on trips to more far-flung coastal locales, while simultaneously showcasing the comfort and utility that they, as surfers, demanded from their trunks. In the design process, no stitch or button was too small to merit consideration, with Mike perfecting minute details from the depth of the pockets to the length of the drawstrings. “We’re addicted to the details,” he says.

Mike and Alex remain avid surfers, and their  designs take inspiration from places visited during surf trips around the world. One can find the influence of Indonesian batiks, Kakishibu-dyed Japanese textiles and hand-blocked Rajasthani Indian prints.

Alex and Mike Faherty, swimwear designers.

Faherty Brand’s commitment to style is matched by an emphasis on sustainability. In lieu of the cheaper petroleum-based synthetics favored by most designers, the Faherty team designed a unique synthetic fabric made from recycled plastic bottles, which are melted down and re-spun as yarn. There are around seven recycled bottles in each woman’s suit and around 15 in each pair of men’s trunks.  “We want to bring awareness, because the apparel industry is quite destructive when it comes to natural resources,” explains Mike.

Right now, Faherty Brand can be purchased online at www.fahertybrand.com or in their showroom. But as of May, they will be debuting a pop-up store from which to spread their endless-summer lifestyle. With the help of an architect friend, Mike and Alex have designed a “beach shack on wheels,” a trailer made with reclaimed barn-wood that collapses open to form two porches. This summer, Mike and Alex are road-tripping through the United States, trailer in tow, peddling Faherty Brand on the nation’s beaches and boardwalks.

Come summer’s end, they plan to debut a more extensive casual clothing collection, with unisex flannel button-ups and organic cotton tees. But—if you had any doubt about their beach-bum bona fides—don’t expect to see Faherty Brand being promoted at a runway show.

“We’ll do something renegade, something that feels not like what everyone else is doing,” Mike says with a laugh. “Something with lots of sand, probably.”

asilman@observer.com

Ms. Wolkoff in her Midtown office. (Emily Anne Epstein)

In the 31st-floor offices of SWW Creative, the walls are beige, the carpet is gray and the cabinets are standard-issue wood-grain. There’s no Eames armchair, no runway stills splashed across the walls, not even a lucite coffee table with a copy of Grace Coddington’s memoir. There’s not a flower in sight.

While fashion professionals are known to obsess over the color of their pens, SWW Creative’s offices are about as splashy as an insurance agency’s. Stephanie Winston Wolkoff is not concerned.

Ms. Wolkoff, who orchestrated Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week’s Lincoln Center expansion, isn’t in it for Smythson notebooks or a pair of Céline fur sandals. She is an executor first and a fashionist somewhere further down the line, finding more satisfaction in a spreadsheet than an Avedon. Though she’s a front-row fixture and a special-occasion catwalker, she doesn’t scour the runways for her own closet. Instead, Ms. Wolkoff, who stands a statuesque 6-foot-1, prefers the simplicity of a uniform—Ralph Lauren is her everyday.

“The outside world thinks that Fashion Week is so amazing and so glamorous and so over-the-top,” said Ms. Wolkoff, who has been overseeing the twice-annual event since 2009. “Is it important to have celebrities there? Great. Is it important to have the athletes in the front row? Super. But the truth is, this is a business.”

And yet, by acknowledging as much—and reimagining Fashion Week as populist and business-friendly—she has rankled fashion’s artistes, who feel that recent changes have given the event a noticeable odor of commerce. Under Ms. Wolkoff’s tenure, corporate sponsorships have taken center stage in a lobby concourse that more closely resembles the Javits Center than the heart of couture. Also, for the first time, there are events for the public, in the form of fashion-art collaborations with Lincoln Center’s performance groups. It’s gone from a tent to a circus.

“Lincoln Center is amazing—they have amazing facilities, they have everything you could possibly need,” said Stefan Golangco, the communications director of progressive menswear line Asher Levine. “But our brand is also about being underground and being off-schedule and being a little bit ... maybe less commercial. [Showing at Lincoln Center] doesn’t feel unique to your brand, especially if you’re a small label. You kind of get lost in the shuffle.”

While Fashion Week may be a few days longer now and may feel bigger (the tents certainly are), the number of shows in its main hub hasn’t grown materially since Ms. Wolkoff entered the mix. The total number of designers showing at Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week itself has remained pretty much the same—the big explosion has been predominantly offsite. In 2007, when Fashion Week was still at Bryant Park, 90 designers showed at Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week while 165 showed offsite. Last year, 91 designers showed at Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week at Lincoln Center and 231 showed offsite, according to data from the Fashion Calendar, a fashion event scheduler, and IMG.

(Emily Anne Epstein)

Many of the designers opting to show offsite are looking for a particular sense of place; a mythology that matches their brand. “I always dreamed about being a part of Bryant Park, and when Fashion Week lost its location, I was really bummed about it. I lived for that moment,” said Nary Manivong, an emerging designer who has chosen to show his work offsite and off-schedule.

Of course, nobody can keep everyone happy, and Ms. Wolkoff is aware of that. She’s not interested in reclaiming defectors. She is interested in making sure the event goes off seamlessly.

“I stay in control of every little thing,” said the maestro of Post-it notes, corkboards and carefully stacked folders. “I want to make sure that nothing falls through the cracks. If I could delegate a little better, I would be better off.”

She is well-known for indifference to the theatrics so often associated with fashion, calling herself an industry “Switzerland.” “There’s no drama,” Elle’s creative director, Joe Zee, told The Observer. “Whatever is happening behind the scenes, everything still feels very put together.”

Every detail is per Ms. Wolkoff’s design, said associates, one of whom likened her preparedness to that of a Boy Scout. “I don’t feel it’s appropriate to put my hands up in the air and say, ‘too bad,’ you know, or ‘It’s not my job,’” Ms. Wolkoff said. “There were times when I’d be sweeping the floor before an event if the floor was dirty. I wouldn’t wait for someone to come into the room and do it themselves.”

Ms. Wolkoff is known in the industry as “General Winston”—a name bestowed on her by Anna Wintour, a career-long mentor who tapped her to become Lincoln Center’s director of fashion when Fashion Week was pushed out of Bryant Park by an ice-skating rink. Ms. Wolkoff, who had previously headed the Vogue-hosted Costume Institute Benefit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, is credited with helping elevate it from an East Coast event to a star-studded couture pageant.

She is one of the many New York fashion success stories who owe their rise in large part to Ms. Wintour’s mentorship. Ms. Wolkoff was a client services manager at Sotheby’s when Ms. Wintour hired her to do PR for Vogue, despite her lack of fashion experience. Raised amid acres of farmland in the Catskill Mountains, the black-belt preferred working on her jump kick to reading magazines. “Fashion was not something that I knew about,” she said. “It just wasn’t really particularly interesting.”

But what Ms. Wolkoff did have was an intensely disciplined work ethic, which was solidified playing power forward for Fordham University’s Division 1 basketball team. The diligence of waking up for predawn practice drills developed a personal drive that became impossible to turn off. (To this day, she calibrates her schedule to the minute, opting to have a manicurist come in to do her nails at her desk so she doesn’t have to cut into family or work time.)

(Emily Anne Epstein)

And she looks the part. Described by an associate as “the first person you see when you walk into a room,” Ms. Wolkoff came equipped with Vogue-worthy family associations: her stepfather is Bruce Winston, jeweler Harry Winston’s son.

“I didn’t have quite the understanding of the difference between Vogue, Elle, Harper’s and the rest of the world,” Ms. Wolkoff said, recalling her interview at the magazine. She was hired the same day. “I knew Anna Wintour was the editor in chief of Vogue, I just didn’t understand what it meant to wait around to meet with Anna Wintour. I didn’t lie that I read Vogue every day or that I grew up loving fashion, but I did know how to roll up my sleeves and do whatever it took to learn it.”

In the cosa nostra of fashion, Ms. Wintour’s blessing is likened to being “made” by a mafia boss. The wheels are slicked, critics are silenced and success is imminent. Accordingly, Ms. Wolkoff’s ascent at Vogue was rapid; she jumped from PR manager to special events manager to the head of the Costume Institute Benefit.

“The Costume Institute Benefit became my baby. It was something that I lived, breathed, day and night,” she said. “It was all about excellence. It was all about never taking ‘no’ for an answer from anyone in order to achieve the ultimate goal.”

At Lincoln Center, Ms. Wolkoff expanded on the foundations laid by Fern Mallis, the founder of Fashion Week, whose efforts put American designers on the global fashion map.

“We wanted to compete with Paris and Milan and other world capitals. There was very limited international business coming to New York, because we weren’t organized,” Ms. Mallis told The Observer. One of the initiatives she pursued was corporate sponsorships that would help offset the costs of the runway productions.

(Emily Anne Epstein)

Ms. Wolkoff nurtured those relationships, creating events that were open to the public rather than only buyers and editors, prying open the former fashion fortress and transforming it into a sprawling campus. “My goal was to put fashion on par with all the other cultural institutions that were at Lincoln Center,” Ms. Wolkoff said. “I always wanted to somehow democratize Fashion Week in a way that hadn’t been done before. I wanted to create a place where editors, models and designers could rub elbows with the everyday person.”

Some designers have balked at the new venue and the new vision, opting to take their shows elsewhere. Marquee New York brands like Proenza Schouler, Marc Jacobs and Alexander Wang have all decided to sidestep Lincoln Center. “The feedback I’ve gotten is that it’s way more commercial out there. But at the end of the day, that’s what it’s about,” Ms. Mallis said. “I certainly miss Bryant Park.”

Mr. Zee says that Ms. Wolkoff’s innovations have “matured” the biannual event. A self-proclaimed “fashion dinosaur,” he has been to shows at every fashion week, since long before they ever found a home at Bryant Park.

“I kind of love Lincoln Center,” he said. “She’s really made it into a true event. It’s not about going to a fashion show and leaving—she makes it into a true experience. It’s like growing up: Bryant Park was the teenage years, and now you grow up and you migrate uptown. It’s bigger, more glamorous ... it’s more what it is.”

At the end of the day, the models need to walk, the buyers need to shop, the editors need to see the season’s best and the designers need to sell their handiwork. It’s a trade show.

“If you look at who’s involved in fashion, there’s glamour, and smoke and mirrors, but it is a true business,” Vanessa von Bismarck, co-founder of fashion PR firm BPCM, told The Observer. “[Ms. Wolkoff] is someone with a business mind and [she] knows how the business works.”

(Mario Zucca)

In June of last year, Ms. Wolkoff stepped down as Lincoln Center’s director of fashion to take charge of her own company, SWW Creative. She still oversees the event, but now IMG and Lincoln Center are her clients, along with a number of other companies, including the Council of Fashion Designers of America, Penske Media Corporation and Kapture, an iPhone photo-sharing app.

Setting up shop privately enabled Ms. Wolkoff to dictate her own terms, which include being able to pick her three kids up from school and get home for dinner with her husband, real estate developer David Wolkoff. “I didn’t have children not to be with them,” she said. And even though her daughter Alexi has made the occasional runway appearance, she’s not an aspiring Tavi. “My children do not know the difference between Tar-jay and any other designer brand,” Ms. Wolkoff said proudly.

After bedtime, she typically dives back into work. “I go to sleep once I’ve put my third child to sleep, and I will wake up around 1 o’clock in the morning and work for a couple of hours, and then go back to bed,” she said, pointing to the 1,777 emails that had accrued in the past hour.

Once left alone, Ms. Wolkoff settled back into her seat and began riffling through the stacks of paper spread across her desk. She checked her iPhone and called out to her assistant. It was clear: she may be the first person you see when you enter a room, but she’s also the last to leave.

eepstein@observer.com

Wed, Bed, Dead. (The Gloss)

For as long as we can remember, the best game during sleepovers/on late-night drug binges/in girly blogs has been Fuck/Marry/Kill. If you are unaware of how the rules work, they're pretty simple: you pick three people who share a similar Venn Diagram overlap (such as Disney princes, former prime ministers or Scientologist movie stars) and then go around in a circle announcing which of the individuals you would sleep with, marry or kill. One fate for each person, and no overlapping. So you can't marry two people, nor can you opt out of killing one of them.

Fun, right? And now the game has been taken to a new level by Jennifer Wright and Ashley Cardiff of TheGloss.com, who have made a web series off the same concept with a slightly less blue name: Wed, Bed, or Dead. And guess what? It's the Fashion Week edition!


Personally, we would not marry Karl Lagerfeld, no matter how many gay marriages he approves through a runway statement, or how many Scrooge McDuck pools of gold he gives to charity. Though Tom Ford is the obvious choice to sleep with, right? So, we guess we'd marry Ralph Lauren and kill Lagerfeld? Or the other way around. Either way, fun game, right? Now you go!

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.

An exclusive backstage photo from The Observer's Wang-insider/tipster.

American fashion design has seen an exciting new crop of talented youngsters creep onto the scene. Creatives such as Joseph Altuzarra, Jack McCollough and Lazaro Hernandez of Proenza Schouler, Alexander Wang, Jason Wu and Prabal Gurung have received a great deal of attention—and rightfully so. The majority of this bunch thrive on fanfare—not always on the design of their clothes, but on their front-rows, frantic check-ins and backstage dramas.

The Proenza Schouler duo, after several seemingly shaky years, have quickly become darlings of the global fashion elite, continually present interesting and attractive collections. Now sitting more comfortably with financial investments from Theory Group’s Andrew Rosen and a glossy new David Adjaye-designed boutique (albeit too damn dark to see any of the merch), its safe to say they are no longer emerging.

Mr. Altuzarra’s nomadic, opulent materials and prints seem to satiate the critics. Since PR Consulting has never invited us to one of his magical shows, we’ll let him be.

Jason Wu’s nearly flawless technique and practical glamour—not to mention being a favorite of first lady Michelle Obama—means he’s fine and dandy.

Same for Thakoon Panichgul.

The Observer will save Prabal Gurung, whose miscellaneous but splendid collection delivered a meager dose of sensationalism, mostly by way of models, for later …

The most interesting “up-and-coming” designer to The Observer is Mr. Wang.

Alexander Wang’s street-friendly sportswear, with its less daunting price tag and edgy wearability, enabled the designer’s swift and massive surge to the top. The party vixen created clothing that catered to his entourage of downtown creatures—models, anorexic rich brats, svelte power gays, artsy drunks—with a cost-effective production (even though a lawsuit claims allegations of sweatshop conditions!). It's no Ralph Lauren or Michael Kors, but the Soho boutique is crawling with new money eager to pounce, and one insider reported that sales are robust.

“He came on the scene just at the right time,” former Barneys bigwig Julie Gilhart was quoted as saying in New York magazine in 2011. Indeed he did.

The Observer is all too guilty of getting wrapped up in the Wang mystique. His shows are electrifying—a circus of outré celebs, aggressive fashion mavens and top-notch models. It’s sensationalism—perhaps even smoke and mirrors, except there is always something to covet. This is followed by the perennial blackout nights of mayhem at his costly, booze-fueled after-parties. But hey! Mr. Wang and his baby empire can afford it.

Look 14: Jordan Dunn. (PMc)

This season, Mr. Wang and his team returned to Pier 94. Tyson Chandler, Karen Elson, Justin Theroux, Sia, ASAP Rocky and Die Antwoord all showed up Saturday, September 8 to witness Mr. Wang's presentation of patch pocket separates, outerwear pieces with cut-outs or “zebra-embroidery,” and weird textured skirts and shorts in onyx, glacier white and desert sand. There were hints of menswear tailoring on shirts, fishline craziness and skeletal knee-high sandals that had people clawing with desire. For luxurious touches, Mr. Wang and co. used stingray detailing and crocodile beading.

It would be nearly impossible to top of the pack of supermodels, led by Gisele Bündchen, who stormed the runway at last year’s conclusion. Nonetheless, a gaggle of top models marched out in all-white looks. The lights dimmed and all their couture turned glow-in-the-dark.

The crowd ate it up like hotcakes, The Observer included. Tacky and stupidly club-kid-esque? Perhaps, but it was fashion entertainment at its American best.

But is this pot of fabulousness and spectacle about to bubble over?

One person, who wasn’t enjoying the fashion feast was New York Times critic Cathy Horyn.

“Mr. Wang ended with his white dresses being lit up like neon glow sticks, but the mood couldn’t be sustained,” Ms. Horyn wrote in the Times on September 9. “But, despite the styling of Karl Templer, who knows how to sharpen a designer’s message, Mr. Wang’s fancifully sliced-up clothes seemed to hit a wall. They had focus in terms of minimalist shape and futuristic textures, but there was no moment of uplift. A glow-stick snap of radiance isn’t enough.”

A bit harsh.

Die Antwoord Spreads the creepiness at Alexander Wang's after-party. (PMc)

The Observer would argue (not that we are deemed fit to challenge the legendary Ms. Horyn) that Mr. Wang’s shticks are exactly aligned with his boisterous lifestyle and extravagantly unfocused glamazon clientele. While we all might have been distracted by the blow-’n’-glow finale, The Observer is already sorting out the finances to scoop up a few of those garments and accessories. The scattered message rang loud and clear: Rave on!

Preppy. And pristine.

Keeping an apartment in the city, while almost as de riguer as country club membership among the corporate elite, is not for everyone. And it appears that Ralph Lauren's executive vice president has decided she'd prefer to live full-time where the polo ponies roam, in Greenwich.

Jackwyn Nemerov and husband Neal, who heads up the Nemerov Charitable foundation, have sold their 22nd floor condo at 101 Warren Street, cashing the two-bedroom in for $4 million, according to city records.

Ms. Nemerov, who has held the reigns at Ralph Lauren for some time, routinely ranks among the highest paid women in the country; last year she earned a handsome but not altogether preposterous salary of $12 million. She's obviously quite adept at raking in the dough, as she purchased the condo for a mere $2.9 million back in 2008.

The buyers, Verisk Analytics president Scott G. Stephenson and wife Beth even paid a good deal more than the $3.69 million ask. Listed with Corcoran brokers Liora Yalof and Elizabeth Salhman, the condo spent a mere 19 days on the market before entering contract.

We suppose that Ms. Nemerov made the sleek space, which comes with high-end finishes and an enclosed loggia that the listing tells us "offers a romantic spot for a morning coffee or cocktails in the evening," seem as desirable as a buttondown stitched with the famous rider.

And the building isn't bad either. It comes with a private, elevated pine tree forest and for the workaholics, a board room and a Bloomberg financial lounge.

kvelsey@observer.com

Critics have recently been making themselves heard on the choice of the Bronx-born designer to craft the athletes' ceremonial garb—and they have been joined by Senator Chuck Schumer.

As an alternative to the made-in-China brand, Mr. Schumer suggested men's clothing manufacturer and longtime New York stalwart Hickey Freeman. Endorsed by the senator as an all-American business, the brand was even part of his 2010 campaign video.

Long popular among the habedasher-ed set, Hickey suits have clothed such big names such as Rudy Giuliani and Al Gore.

But while the company may have factories in Rochester, it is owned by S. Kumars Nationwide Limited, a large textile and apparel brand based in India. And while the Hickey Freeman website emphasizes how the company is "still American-made, still laboring away in the Temple," whatever profits Hickey Freeman gets from making Olympics clothing ultimately profits SKNL.

It appears that Sen. Schumer and his team were unaware of this, despite spending the past few years promoting the company, and even boasting of helping facilitate the sale of Hickey to SKNL. When asked about the SKNL connection, Congressional Staffer Michael Morey paused. "I don't know anything about it," he said.

Senator Schumer eventually added in a statement, “It’s far better to have foreign capital come here and create American jobs than American capital go there and create foreign jobs.”

Online commenters also noted, however, that while some Hickey Freeman clothes are made in Rochester, other shirts bear the tag "Made in Peru."

Looks like there's just no getting away from globalization. Sorry.

Even VIPs have to stand in line at at Ralph Lauren, we learned, as Hamish Bowels grumbled about the "long queue" and took his place behind us. Looking perfectly Victorian in a long overcoat and a black fur cap befitting a tsar, Mr. Bowels held in his hand a weathered, embossed book which, upon inquiry, we learned was his personal fashion diary. "It's where I keep all my runway notes," he explained, walking into the space.

Inside, a Jazz Age ballad was playing and crystal chandeliers were glittering above the crowd. Anna Wintour, glasses off, was sitting in the front row, along with Andre Leon Talley, Nina Garcia, Grace Coddington, Ingrid Sischy and Sandra Brant. The Lauren family trickled in, first Ricky then David and Lauren (who dutifully displayed her FEED bag as she posed for photos) and finally a rather harried Dylan.

As the stragglers found their seats and lights dimmed, Ms. Wintour donned her dark glasses once more, right on schedule. The show began with plaid-heavy looks, topped with dandy-ish hatware. By the time one model appeared with a top-hat and a cane, we discerned distinct Belle Epoque undertones to the collection. Three-piece velvet suits and smoking jackets added to the theatrical nostalgia.

After the show, The Observer caught up with Stephanie Winston Wolkoff who appeared calm and composed despite seven grueling days at the tents. "I'm holding up great," she said. "I cant believe we’re finally here at the last day."

For Ms. Winston Wolkoff, however, the hardest part of the week hasn't been managing moody models, diva designers and thousands of attendees, but the time old issue facing all working women face. "I think just managing fashion week and family, that’s been the most difficult part," she told The Observer.

Despite the successful Fashion Week, Ms. Winston Wolkoff is ready for a break. " I am going to take my family first thing tomorrow morning to the Bahamas. We’re going to Atlantis. I'm going to engage with my kids and run wild with them," she said.

With the Caribbean sun on our minds, we trudged back out into the rainy morning, realizing our Fashion Week tour was finally complete. Instead of Atlantis, however, we headed uptown.

Anna Wintour, Fashion's Night Out's hostess (Patrick McMullan)

Wednesday, September 7

Reever Madness

They’re making another Superman flick with some British gent—don’t they know that for screen magnetism as well as real-life heroism, the buck stopped with Christopher Reeve? The beloved screen icon, who became an advocate for the paralyzed after a horseback-riding accident, is remembered at the Christopher & Dana Reeve Foundation’s “Night for a Cure,” a fund-raising celebration of Spinal Cord Injury Awareness Month. (It snuck up on us again!) Guests are to include W’s party-bot Stefano Tonchi (apparently unthreatened by the Fashion Week storm looming on the horizon!), that crazy, stupidly lovable Julianne Moore and little-known local musician Moby. If your summer-long yen for charitable endeavors hasn’t been satisfied, stop by.

Mondrian Soho, 9 Crosby Street, 7 p.m.; visit christopherreeve.org for tickets and information.

Thursday, September 8

A Night of Torrid Fashion

Once again, it’s the night Anna Wintour devised for the hoi polloi to have a part, however small, in Fashion Week—while the even hoi polloi-er will see their evening’s progress interrupted by crowds mobbing boutiques to degrees unseen the other 364 evenings of the year. Gucci debuts its automotive collaboration with Fiat, providing silk scarves and sunglasses so that visitors may achieve that Lindsay Lohan-striving-to-be-Sophia Loren look; the polo star (is there more than one?) Nacho Figueras hosts a party at Ralph Lauren; chic lingerie boutique Agent Provocateur shows off its glamorous and scantily-clad models; and alice + olivia stage a so-called carnival (complete with Sno-cones and cotton candy, if you’d like to break your diet). The night out is spread across the city, so choose a neighborhood upon which to concentrate (may we suggest the meatpacking district, home to 63 events?).

Gucci, 725 Fifth Avenue, 6 p.m.-10 p.m.; Ralph Lauren, 109 Prince Street, 6 p.m.-10 p.m.; Agent Provocateur, 675 Madison Avenue, 7 p.m.-9 p.m.; alice + olivia, 755 Madison Avenue, 6 p.m.-10 p.m.; visit fashionsnightout.com/fno for information.

Friday, September 9

Showtime

Fashion’s big (fiscal) week began yesterday, but the more high-flying designers tend to make late entrances. (Ralph Lauren’s not showing until the 15th!) Today’s clotheshorses are still early enough that you won’t be jaded by the couture overflow—after a while, the fancy togs stop looking like art and go into the mental pile labeled “We couldn’t wear this to Starbucks.” Today’s shows include Tommy Hilfiger (we hope his delightful rebel-rapper son, Rich Hill, is in the front row!), cutesy schmatte-shaper Cynthia Rowley, and the finalists from Project Runway. Hint: don’t go if you’re a Project Runway obsessive and don’t want the ending spoiled—or if you stopped watching the show, as we did, two years ago. This fashion show is for die-hard Tim Gunn gawkers.

Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week—today’s events include Project Runway at the Theatre at Lincoln Center location, 9:30 a.m.; Tommy Hilfiger Men’s at the High Line Chelsea Market Passage, 14th Street and 10th Avenue, 5:30 p.m.; Cynthia Rowley at the Stage at Lincoln Center location, 7 p.m.; visit mbfashionweek.com for information.

Saturday, September 10

Big Papa

Tonight’s the final preview of Elevator Repair Service’s adaptation of The Sun Also Rises, entitled The Select, which opens tomorrow. The company  previously produced adaptations of The Great Gatsby (an eight-hour production, in which the book was read aloud, cover-to-cover) and The Sound and the Fury. In preparation for the exhilarated exhaustion we shall feel about halfway through the expatriate exegesis, we’re writing the rest of this blurb in the style of Hemingway. This will be a good show, and we will watch it. We will go to the theater and watch the actors reading and it will be good. They pretend to be in Europe and they drink and celebrate being young and strong. They are strong actors and they have studied their Hemingway. The book they read is a good book and it is not overly long. It is about men, and also women. There is a—okay, this is too exhausting. But if you’re hungry for the tale of an impotent man and a very potent lady, and you find it too early in the fall to devote yourself to actually sitting and reading the book (that’s what November’s for!), then check out the nonparody—or self-parody?—Hemingway rendition.

New York Theatre Workshop, 79 East Fourth Street, tomorrow’s opening at 7 p.m., tonight’s preview at 7 p.m.; visit elevator.org for tickets and information.

Sunday, September 11

Ten Years Hence

The National September 11 Memorial will be dedicated today. In a ceremony featuring Mayor Michael Bloomberg, Governor Andrew Cuomo and President Barack Obama, the name-inscribed reflecting pools officially become a part of our city. The memorial, part of a site that has, in many of its particulars, been an object of contention and debate over the past decade, is to open tomorrow, putting to rest a small part of the history of local politics. Another history—that of our processing a now-10-year-old catastrophe—remains, of course, ongoing.

The National September 11 Memorial is to be dedicated today and will be open tomorrow from 10 a.m. to 8 p.m.; access is available from the northeast corner of Albany Street and Greenwich Street with a pass, available at 911memorial.org.

Monday, September 12

Gaga-a-gogo

We’ve had enough Gaga-on-TV for a while after her simply exhausting appearance on MTV’s Video Music Awards. (Hey, we had plenty of emergency liquor left after Irene and needed to commemorate not losing cable somehow.) The lady vamped as an unstyled New Jersey dude, Joe Pesci minus the rudimentary acting ability, for the benefit of the gossip blogs that can’t stop covering the pop star! Nevertheless, we’ll drag ourselves to the television for the special Gaga by Gaultier, not for Ms. Gaga, but rather for the chance to see the iconic designer Jean Paul Gaultier (who designed Madonna’s cone bra, back when she was the pop star testing boundaries of taste and patience) in a 75-minute special. Not to mention the fact that it’s airing on teenybopper mini-network the CW, which gives rise to more cognitive dissonance than any couture-donning chanteuse could ever hope to evoke by dressing in drag. The promotions would seem to indicate that Mr. Gaultier is interviewing Ms. Gaga, and we imagine his questions for her would be rather more perceptive than hers of him. But heaven help him if he tries to put the new, butch, dressed-down Ms. Gaga into a cone bra.

Gaga by Gaultier airs from 8 p.m. to 9:15 p.m. on the CW.

Tuesday, September 13

3D Movies With 2D Critic

Two events tonight indicate the values of storytelling in very different fashions. David Denby, the contemplative, chelonian New Yorker film critic addresses the future of movies in an address titled “Do Movies Have a Future?” (We vote yes! But then, we just loved the new Planet of the Apes.) It’s going down at the New York Psychoanalytic Society—the perfect spot for Mr. Denby to plop down on a couch after the speech and talk about all the issues he plumbed in his porn-and-bad-stocks memoir American Sucker … Meanwhile, Mr. Denby’s magazine colleague Adam Gopnik joins the heterogeneous crew of Bravo hostesses Padma Lakshmi and Gail Simmons, beloved-beyond-belief chef David Chang, and predictable insult-jock Lisa Lampanelli at an evening of storytelling about food. Each storyteller is to speak on the subject for 10 minutes, without notes—just broadly, anything that comes to mind! (Anyone seeking insight into what it’s like to force oneself to gorge on reality show contestants’ half-baked soufflés will enjoy the Lakshmi-Simmons double dose, we’d imagine.)

“Do Movies Have a Future?” The New York Psychoanalytic Society and Institute, 247 East 82nd Street, 8:15 p.m., R.S.V.P. recommended for limited space; email admdir@nypsi.org for RSVP or information; The Moth, Great Hall at Cooper Union, 7 East 7th Street, 6:30 p.m. doors open, 7:30 p.m. stories begin; visit themoth.org for tickets and information.

Wednesday, September 14

Museum of Modern Rock

We know we said we’d had enough of Lady Gaga, but we meant only that we couldn’t bear to listen to her speak about her theories of art and gender anymore. However, her conscription into a gallery show of pop-music-themed art—as the subject of a portrait by Bonnie Engelbardt Lautenberg, wife of New Jersey’s Senator Frank Lautenberg—allows her to do what pop stars do best: act as a muse. Tonight’s opening of RH Gallery’s “Melodymania” exhibit showcases artwork about pop music—including a new portrait of Nirvana rocker Kurt Cobain by Mark Seliger, a cleverly titled print called Violins/Violence by Bruce Nauman and a photograph by Matthew Barney inspired by Norman Mailer’s The Executioner’s Song. (O.K., in that last one the tie to popular music may be a bit conceptual.) Other musical muses channeled by the visual artists on display at RH Gallery include Ennio Morricone and Joy Division—the first time those two have been landed in the same place since our iPod! The concept of pop-inspired art may seem a bit gimmicky to non-radio-listeners—but it’s at least in tune (get it?) with musicians’ tendencies to view themselves as artists and artists’ tendencies to tap into the more venal aspects of our cultural mosaic for inspiration.

Opens today (reception Sept. 13 at 7 p.m.), RH Gallery, 137 Duane Street; visit rhgallery.com for information.

ddaddario@observer.com :: @DPD_