There’s so much going on during New York Fashion Week that doesn’t
actually involve runways, that if one isn’t
extremely careful, one’s head could easily explode. That’s why any
“happening” that isn’t major major major can get lost in the shuffle.
But that’s what you have me for—to champion the little people.
Bensimon (right) with BFF Beth Stern.
Or the not so little, as in the case of the extremely tall
Kelly
Bensimon, who hosted a cocktail party at Bryant Park Hotel to celebrate
the debut of her Kelly Collection of Native American-inspired
blinginess. Dressed in a microscopic M Missoni frock, the bronzed glamazon said she isn’t the least bit surprised that
her sparkly bijoux are already a hit at Intermix.
“When I was the Ambassador for Wool—not even when I was the editor of
Elle Accessories, it was really when I was the Ambassador for Wool—I
traveled the country and saw this huge void,” said Bensimon, casting a
watchful eye over her daughters Sea and Teddy, who were clad, rather adorably, in their
school uniforms. “I really wanted to do costume jewelry,” Bensimon elaborated.
“That’s what America needs.”
Had the former Ambassador required a little mid-bash primping (and I’m not saying she
did, because she totally didn’t), she could have joined me in my next stop, the
Rowenta Fashion Boutique, aka Steamer Central. There, sprinkled in with
mannequins outfitted in trends of the season (e.g.,“Day-Time Sparkle,”
“One Shoulder,” and “Sleek and Sexy”) were high-tech gizmos for keeping
your finery in tip-top shape. Although the Rowenta folks looked alarmed
when I handed them my Mossimo (yes, from Target) smock top to iron—I thought
that was the entire point of the installation, but evidently I was the
only one all week who requested on-the-spot steaming—they were really
good sports about it, and my shirt looked terrific.
And
bien sur, I just couldn’t resist an invitation to get “insider”
fashion tips from
Robert Verdi (
above), who lent his expertise to an event for
T.J. Maxx and Marshall’s to let editors know the goodies to be had if
they deigned to step a foot inside those stores. (It was pretty
impressive, I must say, as it even included pieces by a certain retired
Italian designer whose posse of pugs have their own seats on the private
jet.) Still, for an insider, Verdi sure casts himself in a wholly
different light. “I was in
W once,” he told me. “But only in an
advertorial. That’s as close as I’ve ever come.” Ouch. Such a bald
declaration, from such a bald man.
If you think it's way difficile being a fashion-conscious girl vegan, try being the boy equivalent. Just ask Joshua Katcher, the force behind The Discerning Brute, a website devoted to "fashion, food and etiquette for the ethically handsome man." Bearing a tasty batch of cruelty-free rugelach that he whipped up himself, Katcher popped by our offices last week to bitch and moan about the dearth of nice duds for guys who don't wear leather or wool. After we bonded over our surprisingly unhideous vegan Novacas boots (I have the "Allison" style; he was sporting the "Leo" lace-ups), I let Katcher have his say. "I just want classic, thoughtfully designed menswear," he explained. "Nothing crazy. I shouldn't have to wear a t-shirt that says 'Cowhugger' on it."
To that end, Katcher scours the globe for cool stuff he might actually be caught dead in. Recent finds include a textured cotton Jil Sander suit, waxed canvas motorcycle jackets by April77 and faux suede Matt & Nat bags made from recycled soda bottles. (See more of his fashion picks here.) 
A freelance television producer for MTV, Katcher also freely lends his video expertise to his favorite animal charities. For instance, he recently headed to northern California on behalf of Farm Sanctuary to shoot former W cover girl Ginnifer Goodwin in a series of "Adopt a Turkey" public service announcements. "I did it in exchange for a ticket to their Thanksgiving event at Tavern on the Green," Katcher says. "I think they got a pretty good deal."
After exiting Weiss's lair, I rushed right to a nearby Barnes & Noble to pick up a self-help book she said I would basically die if I didn't read. (You Can Heal Your Life by Louise Hay.) Still, I couldn't resist grabbing the Lagerfeld Confidential DVD on my way to the checkout line. But that still totally counts, right? I didn't break the sacred circle of crunchiness by slipping the Kaiser onto my credit card, did I?
