"It was perhaps inevitable that jumpsuits were next up for a revival." [NYO]

Marc Jacobs' former rentboy boyfriend reportedly told people who asked about the provenance of his dead mouse brooch that he couldn't take it off because it was "a gift from Courtney." We are trying this excuse the next chance we get.

This photograph by Beatrice De Gea that ran with Cathy Horyn's review of the Oscar de la Renta show did not show up online for some reason, so we wanted to keep you informed. Hot for fall: Strapless silk crepe gowns with a drape back. On a skeleton.

Burlesque performer Amber Ray and her husband went to town for the Mao magazine party. (It's almost as good a look as a classic Leigh Bowery.) Patrick Huegenin over at the Daily News breaks down their ensembles. Knee breeches! Danger tape! [NYDN]

Everyone knows that Marc Jacobs is the only show of fashion week that really matters. But why does it matter, and was it good—and what were those gardening gloves about? To find out, we woke up fashion expert Alice Wetterlund, a part-time model and goddess of working in retail.

Socialgay Kristian Laliberte, who does the PR for fledgling label Unruly Heir, had promised us "more of a presentation than a show, with models walking down the runway to inhabit tableaus vivant, or living painting." What this meant: models, dressed in preppie clothes but carrying props such as a croquet mallet, or a ghetto blaster boombox, or a hobo's hankie-on-stick thing, walked down the runway, posed at the end of it it, and then walked over to the side and pretended to "tag" a painting that was pretending to be a fancy painting by spritzing it lightly with pastel spraypaint. One of them threw a tennis ball into the audience! Another walked with an unlit cigarette in his mouth. It was all very badass, very Port Authority meets Palm Beach. Or: very Dalton meets Once I Saw 'Paris Is Burning.' The inimitable Laurel Ptak documented it for posterity.

Does Vogue editor Anna Wintour's newfound healthy hearty appetite have anything to do with the mysterious standing ovation her tennis-playing pal Roger Federer received when he walked into Oscar de la Renta's show? Just sayin'! [Daily Intel]

"We're starving. We're wondering about food," the Vogue editor was overheard complaining at the Ralph Lauren gala. Fifty-one minutes later, she got some salad. [NYDN Fashion Week]

This weekend at the "Warhol Factory X Levi's By Damien Hirst" party at Gagosian Gallery, auteur and crazyman Vincent Gallo swooped in for a snuggle with slightly-former It Girl Genevieve Jones. Can you smell her fear? Can you smell his body? [Photo: Splash]

The A/X store on Broadway by Houston is full of models in underwear. None of the boys are doing quite as well as the guy in the ads, but they're trying!

On Monday, Us Weekly will throw their own damn fashion week party, and honor their 25 most fashionable New Yorkers. Who are they? We just got our hands on the until-now top-secret list—and actually, it's innaresting! (Not a tabloid girl in sight, for one thing.) Sam Champion! Padma Lakshmi! Stephen Colbert! Tim Gunn! And... the MisShapes! But we won't hold that against them, because they've also got Marcus Samuelsson, the hot Ethiopian-Swede chef of Aquavit, on the list.

Meanwhile, back in Queens, the U.S. Open is apparently still going on. Why doesn't fashion week have hot guys who come around and spray you with Evian? FIX THAT. [NYO]

There was this really thin girl? And she had these thin friends? And she had really expensive shoes? And she was drinking a Diet Coke? And then she saw this hot guy and totally giggled and then was suddenly like "O.M.G.! How am I going to get to the Costello Tagliapietra show on time tonight?" Except she said it like "Tacklia-pierta"? And then everyone was like "WHATEVS, PINKBERRY TIME!"

In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. And God said, Let there be hipsters: and there were hipsters. And God saw the hipsters, that they were stupidly posing in photos for websites like Cobrasnake, Last Night's Party, and Misshapes, and God said, Let there be someone to mock the hipsters: and there was Alex Blagg. And God looked down upon what He had made, and God said, Ladies and gentleman, it's Blue States Lose!

Just in time for fashion week, ads for A/X underwear, featuring an insanely built dude and his giant schlong, are plastered tastefully all over our city. Is he for real? Is... it for real? Are we all being sexually harassed? Emily and Richard Blakeley went to find out.

Click to enlarge.

From the mailbag:

Last night at MoMA, Tommy Hilfiger celebrated the publication of, somehow, his fifth book, co-written with legitimate design icon George Lois. It's a visual survey of pop culture and called Iconic America: A Roller-Coaster Ride through the Eye-Popping Panorama of American Pop Culture. Fittingly the massive MoMA lobby was filled with rounded Eero Aarnio chairs, a couple of Marcel Breuer's iconic Model B3 chairs and even a Lips Sofa. White shag carpeting took the place of the more traditional red carpet. Then appeared Arden Wohl.

It's important to identify the junior fashion editors so that you do not bother having sex with them. This guide will help! [NYDN]

Through some sort of rift in the time-space continuum caused by Fashion Week, last night we found ourselves at the Condé Nast Fashion Rocks After Party—even though the actual Conde Nast Fashion Rocks party is tonight. Suck on that, Stephen Hawking! Inside, there was a lot of smoke, a few lasers and model Agyness Deyn. Nikola Tamindzic was there taking pictures. His full gallery can be found here.