Sorry for the slow Gawking, darlings, but my body went into shock from the exodus of fashionistas. Fashion Week has finally released our city from its atrophied grip: food will once again be in high demand, the cloud of cigarette smoke over Bryant Park will evaporate, and, most importantly, the alien models who have frightened us so will return to their gloomy closets to prepare their pasty visages for the next round of catwalk assaults. Meanwhile, the statistics for the average weight of New Yorkers is slowly on the rise.