Talk of the Tents

By Mark La Monica

My favorite moments from the week, in no particular order:

- Baby Phat. Hot beats, great in-chair dancing from Jade and my "What up, Jericho?" to Jamie-Lynn Sigler.

- Being the only person aside from Ron Artest and his two friends to know who Ron Artest was at the Chris Aire show. At least until fellow NBA stars Chris Webber and Elton Brand showed up. They likely could recognize Artest.

- Backstage access to Heatherette. Crazy scene. Very cool. Found a new appreciation for fashion shows.

- Betsey Johnson is still crazy. Likely always will be. Her shows always entertain. Brilliant remixes of music that are as insane as she is.

- Watching some paparazzi dude fall flat on his face while running to get a shot of Paris Hilton. Oh, now that was some funny stuff.

- Accents from roughly 349 countries and one from Texas. Guess which one stood out the most in New York City.

- Jamie-Lynn Sigler. I'm just sayin.

- Free drinks at the Bryant Park Hotel.

- Second-row access to Esteban Cortazar. That was a joyous time. Felt like a socialite.

- A photographer being impressed by some of my photos from the Vena Cava presentation.

- Studying Anna Wintour.

- Not being in an office for the week.

By Mark La Monica

Some things I regret having missed or that just didn't occur:

- Tim Gunn. He was nowhere to be seen by me at the Project Runway show. Of course, it's not like I had great access, but no one I asked had seen him either. That's a shame. He's the best. We all should have little moments in life where Tim Gunn walks into our office and asks to see what we're doing. "Mark, I'm a little concerned about this paragraph here. It doesn't seem to work with what you're doing elsewhere in the piece. I'd try a different verb, maybe even start the sentence with a clause. Make it work!"

- Emmanuelle Chriqui. She was in attendance at a show on Saturday. I was watching college football on Saturday. Life just isn't fair sometimes.

- I was really hoping to see Russell Simmons come out at the end of the Baby Phat show and say "Thank you all for coming out. God Bless. Good night." as if he were closing out a Def Comedy Jam show. I understand he and Baby Phat designer Kimora Lee Simmons are no longer together, but that would have been funny.

- No real gangsta incidents at the Baby Phat show.

- Missing the Oscar De La Renta show hurt. That would have provided the opportunity to see many well-dressed women watching other well-dressed women.

By Mark La Monica

Sitting on the steps of the MAC Cosmetics Backstage lounge blogging away this afternoon, a photography person approached.

"I saw your picture on the wall in there," he said. ("There" means press room.)

"I know," I responded. "I'm ruined now. Everybody knows my face. I can't get into much hijinks now."

"I saw it and was like, 'Oh cool, that's Mark."

"Yeah, that's me. Crazy, huh?"

"And they laminated it."

"I saw that. I considered stealing it, but that's not nice. Plus, I figured I could laminate my own copy and let the rest of the fashion world stare at my mug."

Indeed, folks, I'm kind of a big deal.

By Mark La Monica

Let's begin by acknowledging that "Project Runway," the fashion industry reality competition program, got hosed at the Emmys last month losing to "The Amazing Race."

But here at Bryant Park, the Project Runway fashion show is the top dog. Everyone wants to see it because we all feel a connection to the designers, having watched them on television this summer.

Jeffrey, Uli, Laura and Michael are the four remaining contestants and they've each spent the past few weeks preparing a 12-piece line to show at the tents today. One of them will be out, but we don't know which one yet. We have to watch next week to find out. Oh, the suspense, it's killing me!

Here we go with my thoughts on each designer's concept:

Jeffrey
He said his line was inspired by a book of Japanese demons and ghosts. Um, ok, whatever you say, tattooed-neck guy. Jeffrey used bright colors and had some very pleasing-to-look-at gear draped over the models.

Uli
Her first seven pieces seemed more conservative than what we're used to seeing from her on the show. She worked with predominantly tans, golds and grays. But she had five more pieces left.

"Here come the Uli dresses," I said aloud.

Flowy dresses of thin material with vibrant colors and whackadoo prints. Blue, yellow, purple zebra stripes, funky brown tan and purple, Enchantment under the sea green with blue and orange things. Picture "Shark Tale" in a dress instead of a DVD case.

It was all very Miami, her signature style. But it looked pretty cool.

Laura
Once her music kicked in, it became clear where her inspiration came from: the Roaring '20s and the flappers.

Laura worked with blacks and gold and incorporated some lace stuff. It looked nice, except for the funky feathery things on the shoulders. It's 2006, not 1926. Let's try something different. It just seemed like everything she made we've seen before.

Her shoe choice for two models left me waiting for an ankle sprain. High stilettos with a thin fabric wrapped around the ankle and hanging down. Remember when your mom used to say, "Tie your shoelaces or you're gonna trip." This was one of those times. It just looked like trouble waiting to happen when worn in real life.

Michael
Each designer addressed the crowd before showing their clothes. Michael, clearly the crowd favorite, took the mic and said his collection was called Spring Safari. "The inspiration was me," he said and the crowd laughed.

He explained it further by saying it signified his journey through the whole Project Runway experience, about how he was always on the hunt for things.

The gear he sent down the runway was definitely different. I believe the industry term is "fashion forward."

Bright, bold colors with busy prints. Lots of gold things, too.

My guess
If the judges vote for the winner based solely on their Fashion Week stuff, Uli will win. If the judges vote for the winner based on everything we've seen so far, Michael will win.

But what do I know? Take a look at Blogging Project Runway for more about the TV show.

Video from the Project Runway fashion show

Photos from the Project Runway fashion show

By Mark La Monica

With 15 percent of my wearable clothing left, the quest begins for new gear. And since I'm at Fashion Week with unbelievably easy backstage access to the "Project Runway" crew, it would be the intelligent move to seek their advice.

After all, they are fashion people and I am a person in need of fashion.

I found Michael Knight, one of the four remaining contestants who showed in Bryant Park this morning, and sought his advice.

Here's what he had to say when I presented him with his next challenge of styling a regular fella such as myself:

"My advice is to get you the coolest pair of kicks you can find and then from there, buy you a [bleep]load of white tees and a pair of jeans. That's it. That's what I always do. I always keep the craziest pair of sneakers and then just throw on a T-shirt and call it a day. I'm an easy guy. I'm not all about the huss and fuss. So that's where I say you should start. Find a cool pair of sneakers and get you some T-shirts. Keep it gangsta. Keep it cool."

Thanks, Michael. Good luck on the show and in your career and definitely take R&B singer Brandy up on her offer to style her, too.

By Mark La Monica

Not surprisingly, the Project Runway show brought out some famous faces.

Those spotted in the front row included top American designer Michael Kors and Elle fashion chief Nina Garcia, both of whom are judges on the show. Kors' mother, a former model and a guest judge on an episode this season, was also in the front row. As was Fern Mellis, the VP of IMG fashion and the executive director of Olympus Fashion Week. She was the guest judge for the runway show.

In a shocking twist, Heidi Klum was in the house, too.

Carson Kressley (the fashion savant), Kyan Douglas (the grooming guru) and Thom Filicia (the design doctor) from Bravo's "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" had a front-row view of the show.

Elisabeth Hasselbeck may or may not have had a front-row seat, but we crossed paths backstage after the show.

Angela, Kayne, Vincent and a few other losers from this season were spotted mingling in and around the tents.

By Mark La Monica

OK, so 85 percent of my wardrobe has been stolen. What better time for my second fashion makeover in the last two weeks? (Click here for the first one.)

The emperor is about to have some new clothes!

In order to pull this off properly, I enlisted the help of my good friend, the credit card.

Since the heisting of my wearables occured Thursday afternoon and I didn't find out about it until Thursday evening and had other obligations Thursday night, "Project Fix Mark's Wardrobe Malfunction" didn't launch until about 9:10 p.m. (Worst part about this whole ordeal? I had to cancel my yoga session with Bubbly yogi friend Abby.)

My first thought was to go on the cheap and see what kind of magic I could make happen for less than $50, as if this was a "Project Runway" challenge.

That's a little hard to pull off after 9 p.m. in New York City. Whoever said you can do anything at anytime in this city never had to find new clothes after 9 p.m. in order to be ready for backstage at the Project Runway fashion show during Fashion Week.

I came close when I stumbled upon an H & M on 34th Street and Seventh Avenue, thanks to a tip from Web compadre Dooley. However, since I never was able to go on that four-month-long heroin bender like I always planned on, finding my size at H & M was about as fruitful an exercise as filling out a TPS report. I think H & M stands for Half-pint & Miniscule.

From there, I went through the revolving door at Macy's, where I was instructed the store had closed 25 minutes ago. I never even made it out of the revolving door.

Less than 10 hours until I have to be a productive, functional journalist with clean clothes and I'm back on the street with no fresh clothes, two soaking-wet socks, one damp pair of jeans and a golf shirt that has been steadily drizzled on for the past 25 minutes. If ever there was a Steve Martin in "The Father of Bride" moment when I snap and start ripping out the extra hot dog buns from the bag, this would have been it.

But I powered through this minor setback. How hard could it be to buy one outfit on Fashion Avenue during Fashion Week in the greatest city in the world?

At this point, I recalled an old Madonna MTV special where she told a cabbie to take her where all the action is when she first arrived in New York City. That cabbie dropped her off at Times Square. Life's rule No. 72: If it's good enough for Madonna, it's good enough for me.

So it's off to Times Square. On foot, though, because if I'm going to replace 85 percent of my wardrobe in the coming weeks, I'm going to need to pinch some pennies somewhere.

Here's a funny little fact about New York City that may not occur to most people: At 10 p.m. on a weeknight, if you want to buy new clothing, you have three style choices:

1) Souvenir shop.
2) Athletic store.
3) Skateboarder store.

Upon arriving at the hub of the city experience, I asked myself "WWTGD?" What would Tim Gunn do? He'd make it work!

So I hit up all three shops. After all, it's Fashion Week and fashion is all about making a statement. Besides, I needed everything. Shirt, pants, underwear, socks.

The souvenir shop was just too brutal to make a purchase. Cheeseball shirts. No underwear. A waste of time.

The athletic store came through for me just like I knew it would. Years of cruising Roosevelt Field like a good Nassau kid paid off. Here's a Champs Sports in Times Square. I know they'll have just about everything I need and I know they'll have my size.

First step: Find a shirt. I found a nice Timberland shirt. Price tag: $60. Whoa, not that nice! I moved to the T-shirt department where there's a fairly cheesy shirt that reads "New York City" with a brickface background. This could pass for a souvenir shirt. Sold. And it's two for $20. What a day!

Second step: Jeans. The only option in the store was Timberland. Hard to go wrong with Timberland. So I grabbed a pair of $70 jeans with Timberland embroidered across the thigh like I should be rapping on stage at Hot 97's Summer Jam. No time to worry about inseam. I'll just roll them under like the boys of Bogosse showed me during my first fashion makeover.

Third step: Underwear and socks. A cashier wearing a name tag that read "Tracy" asked if I needed any help. "Uh, yeah, a lot of it," I said and went into the whole story. She felt my pain. Didn't even hook me up with a discount or nothing, but at least she felt my pain. Underwear was a no-go at Champs, but I got six pairs of ankle-cut socks (three white, three black) for less than $10. Joy.

That was a successful haul overall. But I'm not about to go commando at a fashion show, especially since I plan on keeping the labels on the jeans just in case I need to return them. And I would never go commando in another man's fatigues, so I couldn't cause another man to suffer that indecency.

I went across the street to Quiksilver, the skateboarder store, in search of boxers. After a few moments of searching, I found them. And they're sold individually. Perfect. One pair. Camoflauge. Outstanding.

Looks like I just got myself one new outfit to get me through the final day of Fashion Week. Total cost: $116. That's ridiculous. Completely legitimate tax writeoff, but completely ridiculous.

Now, a note to the guy who stole all my clothes: You could never get your weasely little hands around my Wo Hop T-shirt, so eat it, pal!

By Mark La Monica

What do you do when 85 percent of your wardrobe is suddenly gone?

That's an interesting question, and one I'm dealing with at the moment after having my car broken into some time Thursday afternoon and the two bags of clothing heisted from my life.

(Relax, Mom. I didn't call you because we both know what would happen: You'd freak out and worry all night about your youngest son in the big, bad city, then break into my apartment, scrounge up some clothes, drive into the city and meet me as Restaurant friend Rob's with a duffel bag full of clothes and fresh meatballs. So, I'm fine and everything is all right.)

But yes, some jabroni shattered the rear passenger window and swiped my garment bag, which happened to be full of garments, and my black Nike travel bag, which was full of clothes I traveled with into Manhattan for the week.

It was a heroin shot of reality after having just come from Fashion Week. Perhaps someone didn't appreciate my blogs from Bryant Park.

No sense in getting upset over it, though. Life must go on, and as Tim Gunn of "Project Runway" would say, "Make it work."

So I dialed the police, then pulled out the digital camera and took some crime scene photos. My camera was in shock. It's used to snapping pics of the beautiful people in the beautiful clothes, not shattered glass and evidence. But it must have enjoyed the change of pace because, finally, the batteries didn't die.

I did a quick Briscoe-esque canvas of the area, but my research turned up no clues other than the shattered glass around my what once was called my rear passenger window.

I'm enthused by the intelligence of the people who straight jacked all my clothes. Clearly, they won't fit the criminals because whoever heard of an XXL street thief?However, if you see anybody walking around in a Billy Batts T-shirt that is clearly two sizes too big for him, please whip out your camera phone and snap the pic. Then email it to me.

Or maybe there is someone out there wearing a black Perry Ellis suit jacket and a pair of navy blue Perry Ellis suit pants. If so, let them know I've got the matching pants and jacket to those suits so they can have two complete suits instead of two busted-up pieces.

The morons could have had a free E-ZPass and a free Bluetooth headset if they just looked. Schmucks. And they were already in the car, so why not just take that, too. Or pop the trunk and realize they left quite a nifty amount of swag in there. What idiots!

At least they had the decency to leave my original 1992 cassette "The Chronic" from Dr. Dre. If that was stolen, I'd have gone Naomi Campbell on someone.

By Mark La Monica

I wrote on Wednesday about my new appreciation for what goes into a fashion show and the fashion industry.

Here is the photo essay to complement that. It includes scenes from backstage at Heatherette as models prepared and dancers rehearsed. Enjoy

By Mark La Monica

You've seen these things in every celebrity magazine, on every celebrity television show and on every celebrity female's face.

Huuuuuuuge sunglasses.

Why?

Are their eyes that big? Is the sun really that bright? I've been struggling with this concept ever since Nicole Richie and Paris Hilton popularized the look a few years back. Other celebrities and even the regular people have picked up on this trend.

The perplexity in my brain has reached an all-time high this week as it is impossible to walk 11 feet inside the tents at Bryant Park without getting sucked in by the tractor beam on these monstrosities.

Why does everyone want to look like Jeff Goldblum in "The Fly?" Makes no sense to me. They make your head look small. And it looks like they ate your cheeks.

Can someone please shed some light on this issue?

By Mark La Monica

Fashion is very much about being unique and distinct. That includes the way the clothes are presented, too.

At the Vena Cava "presentation," there was no runway. No parade of models walking up and down. A presentation is just a bunch of models posing like mannequins with a pulse. It's a completely different experience for fashion folks.

People can roam around the room, look at the clothes and mingle with the models (without getting too close). It's much more personal than sitting in a seat and watching the parade go by. It's also great for photography. Click on the picture below and enjoy my photo album from the Vena Cava presentation:

By Mark La Monica

Accepted practice at a fashion show is to have the designer walk out from backstage after all the models make their train lap down the runway to end the show.

Here, the people in attendance can clap and praise and shower the designer with affection.

When Vera Wang emerged onto the runway, the applause was typical for a fashion show by a popular designer, perhaps even a little less.

Even from my vantage point in the back row of the media risers, I could see she was fighting back tears as soon as she stepped onto the runway. As the rest of the people in The Tent began to see what I saw, the applause grew.

These weren't tears of joy. Wang's father died early this morning, I'm told, and she powered through her show anyway. But when the time came to wave to the crowd, it couldn't have been easy. She smiled as best she could, wiping her tears up and down the runway.

No way to not feel compassion for Wang in this situation. Losing a parent has got to be one of the hardest things to cope with in life. Mama and Papa La Monica are both alive and well, but my eyes started to swell a bit as I typed that last sentence.

I understand the concept of "The show must go on" but it certainly can't be easy. At least not now. Wang had the distraction of preparing everything one last time for the 2 p.m. show, but now that it's over, her emotional pain will likely be felt.

Wang's collection wasn't too impressive to me, but I'm not exactly a licensed fashion critic. Some things were nice to look at, others were a bit "whatever."

However, I'm curious to read how the real style deciders critique this show. Will they love it? Will they not like it but show some compassion for Wang 24 hours after her father died? Or will they be detached enough to express their opinions regardless of what happened.

Should make for some interesting reading Friday morning before the "Project Runway" show starts.

By Mark La Monica

If "Ralph Lauren was borin' til I wore him," what was Vera Wang before rapper Kanye West and his fiancee walked into the tent for her afternoon show?

But if you thought the platinum-selling artist was star power, you clearly didn't see the women bookending a 10-seat section along the middle of the runway.

Anna Wintour, editor of Vogue and basically "God" when it comes to the fashion kingdom, anchored one side of this section. With her bob cut and oversized black sunglasses on, Wintour was her classic self. Stoic, expressionless and captivating to watch.

Ten seats and one aisle to her right was Nina Garcia, the editor of Elle Magazine and a judge on "Project Runway," the fashion industry's reality competition with Heidi Klum. (Their show is Friday morning at 9 a.m. in case you want to go to work late and attempt to sneak in to the tents at Bryant Park.)

Garcia, a mighty powerful woman in the fashion industry, expresses herself during a show. Wait, let me rephrase. Garcia actually moves during a show.

It was a rather intriguing dichotomy. I wonder what the relationship between these two almighty women is like. I'm guessing it's occupationally friendly at best. But I could be wrong. If any reader knows of articles written about this topic, please post the links in the comments section.

By Mark La Monica

Once I pulled my tongue off the floor and re-attached my lower jaw to the rest of my face -- the casualty of staring at the captivating Amber Valletta for too long -- I began to wonder.

Valletta is in the front row of a fashion show, which is nothing new for the model-turned-actress. But she was also "hosting" the afterparty for Esteban Cortazar at Ono in the Meatpacking District.

When the show ended and Cortazar emerged from backstage for his showering of praise from the people in attendance, Valletta was among the first to spring from her seat and applaud.

Since I am a fountain of useless knowledge and a champion of obscure movie trivia, I wondered to myself if this was life imitating art. In "Hitch," a movie with Will Smith, Eva Mendes and Kevin James, Valletta plays an heiress who wants to help her friend Maggie start his own clothing line.

Maybe this could be the start of a script for "Hitch 2." Likely not, but if they can put snakes on a plane and make it a movie, perhaps a sequel to a romantic comedy such as "Hitch" isn't all that crazy.

By Mark La Monica

On Day 7 of Fashion Week, every show seems to run together. Oh look, there's a cocktail dress and a nice dress followed by a cocktail dress and a "what the heck is that?" dress.

Still, the Badgley Mischka show managed to stand out. There were some extremely pleasing dresses to look at now, and considering how we'll likely see half of them on famous people at award shows next year, it's nice to already know what they're wearing rather than watching Ryan Seacrest stumble with his responses during red carpet interviews.

The silver/gray dresses were outstanding. Fellas, seriously, get yourself to some cocktail parties next spring. There will be plenty of fly honeys to gawk at, all of whom will likely diss you. But it's so much more comforting to get rejected by a woman in nice clothing.

By Mark La Monica

These celebrities were kind enough to breathe in the same general vicinity of me in the last 17 hours:

Sofia Coppola exited backstage after the Anna Sui show and stopped for a pic or two.

Mickey Rourke, once a great actor and poor boxer but now just a train wreck, had a front-row seat for Esteban Cortazar.

Amber Valletta, a legitimately beautiful model turned actress, sat across from me at Cortazar. I tried for eye contact, but that would clearly be a waste of her time.

Lance Bass, the former N*Sync singer, took in Cortazar show, as did fashion expert Patrick McDonald.

Tinsley Mortimer exercised her socialite status with a front-row spot for Badgley Mischka. As did Andre Leon Talley, the style icon who used to be on every VH1 and E! style show ever made. Phillip Bloch, the famed L.A. stylist who did a cameo on HBO's "Entourage" in season two, also wore his thin mustache into Mischka.

By Mark La Monica

I don't know how to put this, but I'm kind of a big deal. People know me.

No, I'm not Ron Burgundy, but it's close. OK, not really, but a photographer did ask to take my picture before the start of the Esteban Cortazar show. Who am I to say no?

I was on the cell phone with Artist-in-California friend Jenny at the time trying to look important since I was sitting in the second row and the seats on both sides of me were not yet filled.

Maybe it was my debonair charm exuding throughout the Nokia Theater. Maybe it was my bandanna and Billy Batts T-shirt. Or maybe he just thought I was someone else.

Seriously, though, who cares why? This was my first photo-op and I had to do it right. I kept the phone to my ear, threw up a hip-hopper's peace sign (that would be the regular peace sign but shown from the back of the hand rather than the front; see Ron Artest photo to clarify) and gave a good look into the lens.

The photographer asked my name and who I was. I politely obliged and thanked him for his time. I wonder if it will make the wire services.

By Mark La Monica

Nerves set in when the Esteban Cortazar info packet mentioned how Grace Jones was a big influence on his Spring/Summer 2007 collection.

Great, I score a second-row seat to the off-Sixth Avenue show at the Nokia Theater and I'm going to have to get through the "severe, androgynous look and square haircut" look made famous by Grace Jones?

Ah wait, two of the next three words in the info packet are "Monica" and "Bellucci." Things are picking up as I prepared for my first real, close-to-the-action show.

Cortazar, a 22-year-old Colombian, did not disappoint, although the show did started about an hour and five minutes late, which in Fashion People Time, is really only about 35 minutes. There was an array of South Beach-style club clothes mixed in with more sophisticated cocktail dresses.

Cortazar, known and commended for his abilities at such a young age, had some very fresh looking designs. His use of fan/lamp-shade pockets that overextended beyond the pants and skirts seemed a bit excessive and strange, but I applaud the effort of trying to be different.

And his musical selections were fantastic, which is important (at least in my mind) when planning the atmosphere of a fashion show.

By Mark La Monica

I love the outrageous juxtaposition of things in life. Example: Bruce Willis caught on television leaning back with Diddy as Fat Joe performed his hip-hop anthem, "Lean Back," at an awards show last year.

Fast forward to the Spring 2007 Fashion Week. What could be more juxtapositionally amusing than sportswriter Mark La Monica at Fashion Week in Bryant Park?

The answer is simple: The guy wearing a suit at a fashion show while carrying a bag from Payless. That was a crowning moment in the pursuit of the ultimate clashing of worlds.

By Mark La Monica

Jessiann, the second model to hit the runway at the Esteban Cortazar show at the Nokia Theater on Wednesday night, wore an optical illusion silk chiffon blouse with pleated collar and a white high-waisted duchess cotton knee length skirt.

What wasn't an optical illusion was when the strap on her high-heeled shoe snapped. She made one graceful attempt to fix it as she kept walking, but it didn't work.

Then, in a matter of about two seconds, she had the wherewithal to just take off both shoes and stroll barefoot the rest of the way.

All the while, she never lost her poise or focus and kept up that bad-ass, nothing fazes me look all models use on the runway. For her work, she received a wonderful round of applause. Nice job, Jessiann.

I was glad she didn't fall. As funny as that may be to see live, I never wish ill will against people who haven't already earned it. I just wondered what she did when she got backstage. Did she get mad? Did she yell at someone? Did she just let it slide since she played it off so well? Hmmm.

By Mark La Monica

The question has been on my all mind all week: Aside from celebrities, fashion editors and other media people, who are the people who go to fashion shows?

I set out into the masses awaiting entrance into the Anna Sui show to meet a few of these people.

Ingrid Madrid, model.
Wow, first crack at talking to regular people and I find a model. Interesting. She's from Los Angeles but moved to New York two years ago, she said.

Madrid has spent the week in New York attending various shows to "observe" and to "learn," she said.

Among those shows on her list were Heatherette, Baby Phat, Millie and Y & Kei.

Mack Sims, promoter/actor, and Omar Anderson, attorney.
Sims, who used to attend fashion shows when he lived in Italy, loves the excitement generated by Fashion Week. "It brings out everybody," he said. "And being an actor, you get bump elbows with everybody, which is good for me."

Anderson, who said he was an attorney living on the Upper East Side, made his first trip to Fashion Week. "I love Fashion Week," he said. "Well, my wife loves Fashion Week."

By Mark La Monica

The aura of "Backstage" goes something like this: When you're not there, you yearn for the opportunity to be there. When you do finally get there, you wonder why you wanted to be there.

For all the jokes and truths about backstage being overrated, Tuesday night's experience behind the curtain prior to the start of the Heatherette show was enlightening.

I've had backstage access before, but this one taught me quite a few things about the fashion world.

[Quick disclosure before we proceed: I've been covering sports for the past seven years. The fashion world is, um, a little different.]

From the typical vantage point of those at a fashion show, it seems so easy. Just put the clothes on the model, send the model down the runway for 15-20 seconds, repeat.

No, no, no.

There's the makeup and hair. The organizing of the clothes and the accessories. The last-minute spray painting of shoe straps. The quick touch-ups of whatever needs touching up. The general craziness stemming from 200 or so people in one small room. The shuffling of models from hair to makeup stations to their proper clothing area. The photographers. The media. The celebrities. The hangers-on. The BlackBerrys and cell phones.

It's an absolute madhouse.

At one point, I got dizzy. And my only responsibility was to take a few photos (you'll see those on Thursday evening in a special photo essay) and make mental notes of the experience. I can't imagine what the people actually working for Heatherette must have felt like.

At a second point, I began to wonder just how much money was involved in making this show happen. From the buckets of makeup and hair spray (retail pricing, that is) to the payroll for those stylists, it would likely cost quite a few bones to produce. Not to mention the cost of the fabric, the tailoring and the modeling.

Heatherette designers Richie Rich and Traver Rains built their line around the clubgoer. It's attracted quite an array of followers, ranging from the Hilton-sister end of the spectrum to that of the everyday New York City drag queen. It was all an eye-opening experience.

They no doubt work extremely hard at their craft, like all the other fashion designers. We the regular people rarely think about that. We just see the end product hanging up in the stores and make split-second decisions concerning its wearability on our bodies and its affordability on our wallets.

There is so much more that goes into the clothes we wear than the fabric. I'll think about that next time I go shopping for new gear. Thanks, Heatherette, for the new appreciation of fashion.

By Mark La Monica

It's official. I now have OCD. Thank you, The Front Row Daily. Seriously.

This glossy rag mag is brilliant in its concept. It's like a good bad movie, kind of like "The Fast and The Furious." That movie isn't all that good, but when it's on TV, it's a must-see. Things this compelling must be welcomed.

Some of the highlights from Wednesday's edition:

- "My heart's still palpitating! Today I saw the President, Bloomberg and now Paris," said Vinnie Francvilla of the FDNY after posing for a photo with Paris Hilton in the tents.

- Designer Michael Kors was nicknamed "Chuckles" by his mom when growing up in Mineola, Long Island. (Let's see him hammer the next contestant on "Project Runway" and have them respond with that little gem.)

- "Crumbs" are among today's "Daily Obsessions." It says here about your show-filled days during Fashion Week: "End them with decadent black-and-white cookies (so this season) . . . ." So, the next time your doctor yells at you about your diet, just say, "Hey, Doc, those cookies are in style."

- In a back-of-the-book feature called Daily Anatomy, body parts model Krista Kennedy confesses: "I do a lot of butt modeling. I made $10,000 for one day in a Dove ad."

By Mark La Monica

The good people of Newsday and AM New York who employ me to write this blog for the week have been kind enough to print my mug on two different pages of the newspapers.

They also print excerpts of this blog in the Fashion Week sections of Newsday and AM New York. So basically, roughly 2.5 million people can see my mug and read my words on the printed pages of their hometown newspapers.

(I'm fully expecting my workspace to be littered with those mugshots from the paper upon my return to the regular world on Monday. I'd be upset otherwise).

As if that isn't famous enough, one of those printed pages found its way into some laminate and is tacked to the walls of the Cingular press room here in the tents. It's right up there with pages from the New York Times, the New York Post and the Daily News. Now every here can figure out who I am. This could be a problem, or it could work in my favor. Not sure yet.

This is a remarkable turn of events. I always wanted my face in the paper. I guess I just always expected it to be as the subject of a news story rather than as the author.

It's a strange, strange world.

By Mark La Monica

In life, we must embrace the opportunies sent our way. No matter what they are and what other people may say about them, approach opportunity with an open mind and see where it leads. If for no other reason than to experience something once in a lifetime.

Confined to the media risers and the surrounding floor area for all the fashion shows so far, I managed to obtain a pass to sit in the seats among the beautiful people for the Carmen Marc Valvo show.

Wow, what a new world. They have these things called "gift bags" on all the seats. Maybe you've heard of them. They also have "information packets" on all the seats. Perhaps you've seen one or two of them in the past.

This sure is nicer than catching elbows and tripod edges in the ribs and other sensitive areas inside the photographer's pit.

Here in the seated area, people are nice. They're chatty. They're accommodating. i'm guessing much of this has to do with wealth, affluence, a well-groomed appearance and body comfort, four things not always visible in the pit.

You can actually learn about the designer's show, the inspiration behind the collection and other funky tidbits such as models' names. This last part is interesting because if you ever click through a photo gallery from a fashion show, all the captions begin with "A model walks . . . " Very annoying.

Not anymore. Hey, look, here comes Ines and she's wearing a black petal embroidered sheath. And Linda V. is walking the runway in a dusty rose satin face organza rose-bud cocktail dress.

Liudmilla wore a black silk brocade trapeze back jacket with a black silk dupioni wide-leg trouser. In the pit, that translates to "that really tall model with the black thing on her shoulder and the pants." Perception is nine-tenths the knowledge.

Marta had on a black silk barathea draped back cocktail dress on. I don't know what any of that means but I know I need to start going to more cocktail parties because that dress was pretty hot.

There was an empty seat in the front row at the show. Usually, this doesn't bode well for a designer. In this case, it was the designer's decision. Valvo kept an "Empty Seat" as part of an effort to raise awareness and funds for the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children.

"I am leaving one front-row seat empty to put the real focus on who isn't at the show, instead of who is," Valvo said in a statement issued inside the gift bag and information packet.

A very nice touch, I felt. And something I never would have known had I not been seated for the show. Learning new things, regardless of their relevance in the grand scheme of life, is an opportunity no one should let slip away.

By Mark La Monica

Being Fashion Week and all, I decided to get a little silly with my gear today. I put the American classic -- jeans, buttondown shirt and black leather shoes -- away for the day and emerged with an ensemble of ridiculousness.

We begin with the feet, which reside comfortable in a pair of logo-less white ankle-cut socks. Those socks are enveloped by a pair of white-and-gray Nike shox with burnt-orange swooshes and soles.

From there, we move north to the cargo shorts of the camouflage persuasion from my Summer 2006 collection.

My torso is smothered by a black Billy Batts T-shirt. Printed on this T-shirt is the image of actor Frank Vincent in a thin mustache with an image of the Italian flag behind him and the words "Go Home And Get Your Shine Box!" It's from "Goodfellas," just in case you didn't know. (Note: Every time I wear this shirt, I get at least four "That's a great shirt!" comments from the regular people. Fashion Week at Bryant Park, however, may indeed be the one place in America where this shirt elicits no response.)

On the head we have my signature black bandanna from my Fall 1998 line.

When preparing my outfit this morning, I felt I was lacking something (other than good fashion sense). Party promoter friend Jann said he didn't have any iced-out oversize necklaces with a cross, so I had to call an audible. I threw out a black, three-button suit jacket from Perry Ellis. Now we've got ourselves an ensemble mash-up worthy of the tents.

My new photographer friend saw me and said, "You look good today. You've been conservative this week."

Lawyer friend Tim met up with me outside the tents and said, "You look like the guy they give a jacket to so he can eat in the clubhouse at the track."

Giddyup and let it ride! I'm playing the Michael Kors-Carmen Marc Valvo exacta today.

By Mark La Monica

A Michael Kors show brings out some celebrities. Perhaps all that face time as a judge on "Project Runway" is paying off. Or, maybe it's just that he makes good gear.

Either way, R & B singer turned Broadway actor Usher enjoyed the show from his front-row seat. Usher was rocking some fly gear, too. Guess his turn as Billy Flynn in "Chicago" is finally paying off and he can afford to purchase some nice threads.

Rather quietly, Serena Williams was spotted in the front row, too. She looked good, too. And huge! But in a good way. Thatgirl's got some guns on her.

Bebe Neuwirth, who also did her turn in "Chicago" on Broadway, was there as well.

By Mark La Monica

Spring fashion typically conjures up the notion of bright colors and thin, loose-flowing material.

Not for Michael Kors.

He went back to basics, as the Christina Aguilera intro song he looped suggested. A great mixture of blacks and tans and whites and grays, with a few splashes of pink tossed in for good measure.

It worked. Very well.

I will never claim to be fashionably knowledgeable like the rest of the writers here are, but I know what I enjoy. Every bit of clothing designed by Kors for this show was fantastic. Well, except for those really deep-plunging V-neck shirts on the guys. Not my style, despite being of Italian heritage. These V-necks were deeper than anything your grandfather used to wear when he was shucking clams or tending to his fig tree in the backyard. Then again, if I had the pecs to look good in that shirt, I'd probably wear it strictly on principle.

The suits, the shirts and the pants for men well are imminently wearable any time of year by any person who chooses to buy them.

The dresses, the skirts, the blouses? Brilliant. So brilliant, that if I were a cast member on "Saturday Night Live" or some other sketch comedy show and had to dress up like a woman for a skit, I would demand the wardrobe department to get me something from Michael Kors' Spring 2007 collection.

Click the photo below to see more of the show

By Mark La Monica

Everything went smoothly when picking up my credential for backstage access to Heatherette.

That's never a good sign. That means something will go wrong once inside.

Something went wrong inside. Thrice.

The batteries in my digital camera once again decided they had seen enough of the world and took the rest of the night off.

"Oh crap," I said when the camera did just that to me.

A competing photographer figured out what happened to me and laughed. I pulled out my camera phone and said, "Deal with that!"

Next on the list of "When Bad Things Happen to Me at Fashion Week" was the credential incident. The credential given to me was from a different show. It had a "Heatherette" label covering up the pre-printed Luca Luca logo. It looked beyond fake and a security guard called me on it.

"Excuse me, can I see your credentials, please?" he said.

Wow, it's only been 15 minutes and my passport to heaven is being revoked? This can't be good.

He investigated the credential and I explained that's what was given to me by the people out front. He tore the label a bit to see what was underneath, then agreed to let me stay. Of course, now I can't leave the room and see what's up in the hallways because my label is partially torn with a nice dirt spot on it. If it looked fake before, it looked amazingly counterfeit now.

These types of things always come in threes. I somehow resurrected battery life for a few seconds here and there and went to capture R & B singer Mya getting her hair done for the show. As soon I snapped my first picture, the hair dude turned her around to face in the other direction. Gee, thanks, pal.

By Mark La Monica

Too often in life, things do not live up to their hype. Tuesday night inside The Tent was not one of those times.

The Heatherette show promised to be off the wall, and it was. From the club kids to the drag queens to the glow sticks and the dancers lining the runway, Heatherette scored major points in the performance area.

Designers Richie Rich and Traver Rains created some very interesting and provocative clothing for the spring, staying true to their concept of clubwear-inspired clothing that made them famous to begin with.

Paris Hilton opened the show in a funky dress. The lights then dimmed and the runway was cluttered with performers holding airplane-directing glow sticks. Clearly, Heatherette puts as much thought into the show as they do the fashion.

The Hilton sisters shared the runway a few moments later. Other celebrities who modeled for Heatherette this time included hip-hop artists Mya and Kelis and resident bad ass on the world model tour, Omayrah.

Some of the outfits put together were cool. Some were just plain crazy. One looked inspired by the idea of Bjork dropping three tabs of acid and then going to see "The Rocky Horror Picture Show." That's really the only way to explain that short, partially white dress. Well, maybe this will help: Imagine wearing a giant white, black and pink artichoke where the leaves move when you walk.

Outside of going to a club or an MTV award show, or if you're just famous, I'm not sure where regular people can wear these clothes. However, they are pretty cool to see.

By Mark La Monica

Night time is the right time for celeb watching. Camped out by the backstage area with a camera on its last battery legs, the Hiltons flowed back and forth.

Nicky Hilton walked out of the backstage area and across the street without being noticed by anyone except myself and one other photographer next to me. She returned a few moments later and met the swarm of paparazzi. I'm wondering if she left just to return being photographed going in to the Heatherette show. Either way, as the paparazzi shouted at her to look into their lens, I simply asked, "Where's E?"

A few minutes later, the brunette wig-wearing Paris Hilton flexed her mighty star power just by walking in front of cameras. She stopped, posed and continued walking. Then, she stopped, posed and continued walking.

The Hilton sisters were preceded by Beth Ostrovsky, girlfriend of shock jock inventor Howard Stern. Two Bryant Park workers maximized their moment. The first asked aloud, "How's Howard?" The second quoted Master P and his No Limit Soldiers with "Hooody Hoo." Both were amusing.

Once backstage, it was barely even a challenge to spot famous faces. Oh look, there goes R & B singer Mya. And there's hip-hop artist Kelis getting her hair done.

Adult film star Tera Patrick, stylist Phillip Bloch and "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" host Carson Kressley were also spotted enjoying the Heatherette show.

By Mark La Monica

There's this funny thing about information: it's good to have. Wise enough to pick up the bible of this business -- The Front Row Daily -- on Monday, I learned that the magazine was sponsoring free drinks, food, massages and some sort of hair-changing experience at the Bryant Park Hotel.

Hey, that's approximately 34 feet away from Bryant Park on 40th Street. Um, yeah, note to self on Monday: Check that out.

Armed with this information and accompanied by Magazine friend Xtina, I indeed checked it out on Tuesday afternoon. Whoa, nelly! Imagine a room full of swanky people and blend that with a room full of hoity toity people and you've got yourself an instant party.

Inside this swank-fest, we saw free massages and free makeover-type stuff. Hey that's great, but I've got three more days here so that stuff can wait? Where's the booze?

Ah, here it is. Vodka mixed with one of three flavors of Pomegranite juice. From there, it's off to the greek food table for some pita bread and tomato salad with olive oil and feta. A wonderful dinner, if you ask me . . . instead of a nutritionist.

But when living it up for no other reason than you can, partying indoors at a swank-fest is sooooooo pedestrian. Lucky for these two non-swankers invading Swank Town, the patio was open.

So, let me understand this whole fashion world thing: You're going to allow me to walk into the Bryant Park Hotel, take the elevator to the 24th floor, order a drink and experience that drink on the patio overlooking Sixth Avenue with a sunset on the verge of beginning? Holla at your boy!

By Mark La Monica

Some friction developed in the line area for the free Havaianas sandals moments after the Betsey Johnson show let out Tuesday afternoon.

The first wave of people were already nestled within the stanchions, while dozens of others muddled about the lobby.

The security detail for Havaianas -- one young woman with a headset -- tried explaining that no line could be formed outside the the plastic ropes for safety purposes. She suggested that people return every 10 minutes or so and if the people already in line had dwindled, then she'd let the new crop of free-sandal seekers inside the ropes.

Then, 10 seconds later, she opened the rope and let people in. Then, 10 seconds after that, she said no line existed. Confused? You should be. It made no sense.

But I possess a small amount of observational intelligence. I told the overwhelmed security gal that no one is leaving because you keep letting them in every 10 seconds. I counter-offered: "I'll take a walk around for a few minutes to make your life easier and start the trend of 'following your instructions,'" I said.  "But, when I come back, will you hook me up with easy access?"

She agreed.

I took a walk. Picked up some Aquafina citrus twist. (That stuff is quite tasty.) Returned to the Havaianas line. The security gal spotted me and said, "You can come in." Those still standing outside the gates to footwear heaven were furious. Oh well. Be nice to people and you see what can happen. How you like me now, rude people?!?

By Mark La Monica

Fashion designer Betsey Johnson may indeed be whacked out of her entire brain. Since Pluto lost its planetary status, perhaps the scientific community could see it in their wisdom to make Johnson the ninth planet. Clearly she is not of this Earth.

Where else but at a Betsey Johnson runway show could you hear the following musical mixes:

- The reggae beat from Sean Paul's "I'm Still In Love With You" with the lyrics from Queen's "We Will Rock You."

- A ramped-up hard rock beat with a slight techno infusion mixed with the lyrics from "Candy Shop" by rapper 50 Cent.

- Madonna's "Holiday" instrumental with the lyrics from "Milkshake" by hip-hopper Kelis (wife of Nas.)

That is equal parts insane, amazing and cool. Betsey brought the pain once again with the musical accompaniment to her clothing. (Although, she couldn't outdo Baby Phat this year, and I doubt anyone will.)

As for her Spring 2007 collection, it was just as insane, amazing and cool. Some were just off the wall but since it's Betsey Johnson, you know what you're getting once you walk into the show or her store.

Ladies, her spring fling dresses are a delight. Her cocktail dresses are sexy. Her more elegant dresses are classy. Her red swimsuit is hot, even with the little nickel-sized pockets in the front. (I told you she was crazy.)

Fellas, her spring fling dresses will send your hormones in a rage (provided you're not the one wearing them). Her cocktail dresses will make you seek out cocktail parties to attend. Her more elegant dresses will make you appreciate the difference between a "woman" and a "girl." Her red swimsuit is hot!!!

So break out the credit cards next spring and treat your ladies. You're really just treating yourself.

To end the show, Betsey began her thank-you walk down the runway holding her grandchild. It was a nice touch for those who also saw her Fall show in February. She ended that show with a nod to her status as impending grandmother. From my vantage point in the risers, it was hard to determine if it was a grandson or a granddaughter. But the parade of pink balloons (click on photo above) following Betsey down the runway suggests granddaughter.

And yes, she did signature cartwheel. And yes, she mugged for the cameras afterward. She's crazy. She's cool.

By Mark La Monica

The Black Eyed Peas asked the question a while ago: "Where is the love?" They even got some help from Justin Timberlake.

And now I have to wonder where the love is when it comes to The Front Row Daily, the glossy rag mag they distribute in the tents. I've been nothing but kind to them. I love that mag. It's incredibly compelling to look at.

So, why - why?!!!!!!!!? - would they torture me by putting a pic of Emmanuelle Chriqui from "Entourage" on their first editorial page? What did I do to deserve such hatred?

Clearly, they don't understand how immaculate she is. It's obvious they didn't read my Entourage blog. If they had, they'd know the deal. Her flawlessness makes it a tough world to live in.

In fact, it just makes me mad to see her. Fellas, especially Insurance friend Mike and Jitsu friend Joey, you can understand this logic. If a woman is that disgustingly perfect, you don't even want to look at her.

By Mark La Monica

I put my burgeoning obsessive-compulsive disorder on lockdown for 40 minutes or so and snuck out of the tents for a lunch not consisting of Aquafina and Aquafina.

What a beautiful day it is in Midtown. Real world, real people, real food.

Of course, maybe the en fuego chicken fajitas from Chipotle wasn't my best call of the week, but it looked much less painful than the 9-foot thick burrito Media friend Matt endured.

The reality check was nice. But as I sit here right now in the holding pen for photographers awaiting entrance into the Betsey Johnson show, I'm strongly reconsidering those bottles of Aquafina. They are a much safer play than Mexican food.

By Mark La Monica

Celebrity stakeouts are fun . . . for about 11 minutes. After that, it's an exercise in stupidity unless you treat it as a beautiful avenue for observational psychology.

Most of the time, photographers are just standing around. But on those occasions when famous people appear, photographers turn into Olympians. They sprint. They hurdle. They speed skate.

They turn the corner like an All-Pro running back. They box out like Shaquille. They really are amazing specimens. They should be tested for performance-enhancing drugs. I think I saw BALCO founder Victor Conte talking to one of them earlier today.

In the downtime, the paparazzi mingle with one another. They compare their $5,000 cameras. They ask the classic question, "Who did you get?" It's about as ubiquitous a phrase as me walking into the office and saying "What's up, guy?" to everyone. (For those who don't know me, that's all I say.)

But once the celebrity reaches lens range, it's all business. Rookies should wear a flak jacket to protect their rib cages. It's more dangerous than going over the middle to catch an NFL pass. They will jump right in front of your shot and not apologize until afterward.

I learned that one first-hand. Of course, I couldn't really complain since "getting the shot" is their entire life's work and I'm just standing there with a handheld Canon PowerShot S1 that I don't even own and making mental notes for this blog.

There are four types of people at a Fashion Week celebrity stakeout in New York:

1) Paparazzi - Hey, it's their job. 

2) Joey Autographs - He's the stargazer who wants to feel better about himself by experiencing three seconds of personal attention from a pretty woman. He's usually carrying a notebook with all his signatures in it. It's not uncommon to see these people on the news being arrested for stalking a celebrity. It is very easy to hate on Joey Autographs until you realize he plays a vital role in celebrity photography. Joey Autographs forces the celebrity to stop for an extra moment, which allows paparazzi more photo-op time.

3) Joey Pictures - This is the guy who puts on the nice shirt, gels up the hair, uses a handheld digital camera or perhaps a disposable camera and asks every celebrity, "Can I take a picture with you?" He's harmless. All Joey Pictures wants is a shot of his arm around a famous shoulder. Can't really hate on Joey Pictures for that. They make for great Christmas cards. I'm still in search of a photo of me and Jay-Z so I can send it to my friends and family with the stamped greeting: "Merry Christmas from me and the Jigga man." That's just plain funny.

4) Random onlookers and passers-by - This is New York City, where everything happens. Seeing celebrities is fairly common. Seeing big events take place right on the streets of the city is extremely common. Yet we still love it. We want to know what's happening. The approach is simple: Saddle up next to someone who was there before you, give a head nod in the direction of the event and say, "Hey, what's goin' on over there?" Works every time. These people are good to have on the payroll because they can do your reporting for you. A competing media outlet may not want to tell another photographer who they're waiting for, but they will tell a random citizen.

By Mark La Monica

The fancy car deposited Liza Minnelli at the backstage entrance to the tents midway between Sixth and Fifth avenues on 40th Street. The paparazzi swarmed. I casually strolled over. I was in no rush to see that nutjob.

"Liza, over here!" a photographer shouted.

"OK, now over here, Liza!" another shouted.

And so on down the line they went. My inner voice -- and thankfully it didn't become my outer voice -- said, "OK, I get that Liza is a big deal, but seriously. I mean, they play her rendition of 'New York, New York' at the Stadium when the Yankees lose, not win. There's a reason for that."

Start spreading the news!

By Mark La Monica

I like to lay the occasional bet in a casino. Let me rephrase: On the occasions when I go to casinos, I lay down cash on bets.

Here's my lock of the week: Mark La Monica is the first person in Fashion Week history to be inside the tents and listening to Terry Cashman's "Talkin' Baseball" at the same time.

Say hey! Say hey! Say hey!

We're talking Willie, Mickey and De La Renta!

By Mark La Monica

My decision to stake out the celebrities proved fruitful. Here we go with the list of famous people who became slightly more famous by standing within 10 feet of me.

After the Monique Lhuillier show this morning, Jamie-Lynn Sigler walked through my lens space and allowed the camera to take a picture of her.

This is her second appearance in "Famous Faces" and the guess here is that it won't be her last. Two reasons: 1) She seems to attend a lot of shows; 2) She's a Long Island girl and I have to stick to my roots.

OK, three reasons: 3) She is ridiculously attractive.

Next out of the box we had LeAnn Rimes. She seems like a very nice, wholesome girl.

Granted, that's the image her record company and publicists want to project. I'm just letting them know it's working.

After a brief lull in the action, Liza Minnelli arrived on the scene. I have no interest in her, aside from when Maya Rudolph impersonates her on "Saturday Night Live." But other people do, so here's the picture of her on the way into the Bill Blass show.