A defender of the detachment of the British royal family once said: “We must not let daylight in upon the magic.” Advice which applies to Marc Jacobs, the designer, subject of a documentary airing this month on the Sundance Channel. Jacobs' affection for gay porn stars doesn't diminish his mystique: fashion industry figures are expected to be outrageously homosexual. But take a look at the designer (the most influential of his generation, the narrator declares) in "pigeon disguise" so ambitious and cumbersome that he has to ride in a truck. That epitomizes his whole state of mind, we're told; it also epitomizes the absurdity of the fashion industry. Click for Marc Jacobs thoughtful, chain-smoking; the fashion designer on inspiration; on the horns of a dilemma ("This is so horrible that it is good. Or is it so horrible that it's horrible?"); and, yes, as a pigeon.

Fashion Week parties, according to one nightclub doorman? "Better-dressed, but otherwise it's the same shit." [men.style.com]

[The icy Vogue editor was photographed at the Badgley Mischka show for New York's Fashion Week today; image via INF]

Another tale from Fashion Week has emaciated, batshit insane actress Brittany Murphy telling a gossip magazine reporter: "Your magazine HURT. MY. LIFE." Not since she uttered the immortal line "Just as long so his you-know-what isn't crooked. I really hate that," in the epic masterpiece Clueless, has Ms. Murphy been so eloquent about the state of the world. [NYMag]

One of our Fashion Week informants reveals the hidden purpose of the industry's New York extravaganza: enabling creative homosexuals to gush, bitch, hook up, and then bitch again.

Anyone have any horror stories from New York's fashion show extravaganza? (Beyond everyday chaos and obnoxiousness.) Write up your account, and email it in. We'll publish the best.

[Socialite Tinsley Mortimer at New York's Fashion Week yesterday; image via Bauer-Griffin]

[Celebrity gossip blogger Perez Hilton poses with makeup artist Gregory Arlt at a Fashion Week event over the weekend, image via Getty]

[Model Tyson Beckford, co-host of Bravo's "Make Me a Supermodel", arrives at a Fashion Week event today in New York; image via WENN]

[Filmmaker and hooker Vincent Gallo is seen leaving the Y-3 fashion show in New York last night; image via Splash]

When it comes to the Olds Getting It Right, African humanitarian/party animal Zelda Kaplan's got it figured out. She's all over Fashion Week, wearing crazy-print wraps and just being all, "What?" Her website lists her as "humanitarian, dancing queen, adventurer, and citizen of the world." She's 91, and goes out a few nights a week. Everybody wants her at their party because she totally brings it. [Guest of a Guest]

[Fashion designer Roberto Cavalli and an unidentified woman at the amfAR New York Gala after party in New York City last night; image via INF]

When fleshier, more ordinary-looking models flood into New York for Fashion Week on Friday, you can thank bloggers for all the unconventional faces. A notoriously ugly group themselves, bloggers have begun selling photos of other homely types to brands like Converse, Lycra and Ben Sherman, and now the rest of the fashion industry supposedly wants to move beyond cookie-cutter notions of hot, according to Newsweek. We'll see — the eating-disorder-plagued industry has been loudly promising reform for more than a year now, and as the following sampler shows, some of these "real people" just look like models with glasses on. Click to meet the new faces of fashion.

"Debatable as the chic of drug abuse may be, it's hard to dispute that the theater of celebrity substance abuse is having a fashion moment. And that, too, is part of what makes the front row of a Marc Jacobs show a snapshot of where, at any particular time, as a culture, we find ourselves." Really, Guy Trebay? Seriously? [NYT]

A lil' birdie spotted the balding Aussie actor Heath Ledger and the delightfully thick then skeletal then halfway normal again starlet Kate Bosworth boarding the same elevator after a Fashion Week event. So circumstantial! But: the lady hasn't been photographed with that male model she was dating—you know, the one who healed her Orlando Bloom broken heart—since early May, though Rush and Molloy did spot them "out and about" two weeks ago. Hmm! How will Heath affect her weight?

Matt Phillp has taken what is definitely our favorite picture of all of fashion week at the Heatherette show. There in the front row, infamous fey dandy Patrick McDonald was placed next to sorta-thuggy Diddy. This proves that either the show's publicist (the infamous Kelly Cutrone!) is either a genius or a just a nutty crazy lady. Also to be noted! Lady Bunny two rows behind them, taking pictures and laughing her ass off. Heaven. So long, fashion week! It's been... well, it's been!

Our Liz Glover caught up with multi-"talented" tool Vincent Gallo at some Fashion Week event yesterday, we're not sure which, they're all starting to blend together as that nightmare concludes, and the actor/singer/director/model/sperm-vendor was kind enough to share his wisdom on the issues of the day.

Charming Amanda Randolph Hearst—model! Heiress! Art lover!—has had it up to here with the appalling collaboration between designers, socialites and paparazzi: "The design houses are letting all these celebrities and socialites borrow their clothing! And then there's definitely this partnership with the paparazzi and the photographers at all these parties—that has increased tenfold, so there's just like a different way of promoting your businesses and your clothing right now, and I guess socialites are one way of doing that." Wait a minute, for reals? This is what's going on under our noses behind our backs???

The Observer's Spencer Morgan is being mocked by New York mag's Daily Intel today for his investigative thinkpiece on visiting a model apartment ("No, we're girls, we are not talking about politics. Sometimes we talk about shows we have done. Every morning, we talk about what clothes to put on"). Those New Yorkers even accuse him of committing "that most basic of all Fashion Week fouls—farting in a room full of models." But! "I did NOT fart," Spencer tell us. "You weren't meant to infer that they were 'giddily discussing my charms,' as they all ditched me in the living room. The farting allegation is as ludicrous as the allegation that I am an aspiring rake, as I have NEVER farted. My guess is after two hours of answering questions and being tape recorded, they had had enough."