—PHOTOGRAPHY BY JEREMY KOST

—PHOTOGRAPHY BY JEREMY KOST

This morning’s Christopher Kane show opened quietly - the clothes, I mean.

The internationally packed front row, including Jefferson Hack, Anna Piaggi and Vivienne Westwood, and its consequent flashbulbs weren’t quite as calm.

Kane’s collection seemed to be moving in a menswear direction. He opened with blazers and oversize knit sweaters over slightly flouncy skirts before breaking out the layered sheer dresses with velvet stripes and sort of Elizabethan details. Jessica Stam wore an intricately bodiced pink party dress and the shearling motorcycle jacket Hanne layered over her ruffled party dress was perfect.

Shoes were either velvet cage heels or flat patent oxfords. Make-up was minimal, the jewelry non-existent and the music sounded like the jungle.

If Kane’s giant $7000 paillette dresses could can sell out of Net-a-Porter in a day, we give these an hour. It might be the best collection so far.

I swung backstage at Basso & Brooke about ten minutes before show time.

The first thing I noticed, besides the stunning sheer tea dress with beaded lace embroidered on top of it, was Stephen Jones holding court with his muse Anna Piaggi by a table full of very odd headbands.

“Can you tell me a bit about what you’ve done for the show?” I asked.

And as he answered, he started fitting them on my head. For the answer, check out Teen Vogue, but know that in my mind that’s like Christian Louboutin fitting a shoe on my foot - a major fashion moment.

Anyway, post-moment, I landed in my seat in the Bloomsbury Ballroom and watched Basso’s fantastical, brightly printed collection parade on by. This season their prints seemed focused on texture. Some were made to look like Greek columns, others fur, some lace, some zippers, almost all accessorized with hefty baroque looking jewelry. The shoes were elf-ish and the clutches had pearl handles which doubled as bracelets.

Also, there was crimped hair like the models also rocked at Erin Fetherston. One more show with crimped hair and I’m officially breaking out my vintage crimper when I get home.

My camera is like, so over Fashion Week.

Or maybe it was protesting the lit up runway at Yohji Yamamoto. Either way, my pictures are terrible. So I’ll tell you about the pre-show conversation I had instead and you know where to find runway pictures.

I sat next to an editor from Vogue Brazil. Her thoughts on:

Anna Piaggi: “Do you know her? You are so young! She makes me tired. She is always perfectly dressed, meticulously coiffed. I just think, it must be so hard to pack because you know, in Brazil, we have so much help. Her home, in Milan, is literally covered in clothes, the most beautiful clothes that everyone who loves her has given her but so much work to take care of!”

Yohji and Comme des Garcons: “I saw them both show for the first time here in Paris in 1983. You were born, no? It was revolutionary, like girls walking out of a bomb. An entirely new aesthetic for us, all black and so deconstructed -brilliant.

Tokyo: “I went to Tokyo to interview Yohji in ‘92 and he is such a gentleman. A very quiet gentleman who was so famous, worshipped, in Japan. You know, his look is not trendy right now, but look at all the women who love his clothes. He will always be relevant.”

I’m still not used to the kind of fashion show where people care more about Harvey Weinstein than Patrick Demarchelier, more about Katy Perry than Anna Piaggi.

But I guess that’s why I don’t work in PR and why I watch for editors’ reactions instead of the runway at a show where it’s only half about the clothes.

Dior’s afternoon show, held in a tent at the Place de la Concorde end of the Tuileries, boasted movie stars, dramatic music cut with MGMT, ridiculously caged Cindy Lou Who hair, and handbags, of course.

From my perch above the runway, I watched Galliano’s parade of modern warrior princess clothes. Raquel, Caroline Trentini and Tanya D teetered on their carved heels - think Basso & Brooke - wearing snakeskin corsets and chiffon mini dresses made for Tinsley. The Dior beauty ambassador sat front row, the paparazzi crush snapping away at Eva Green and Marion Cotillard right next to her.

The show ended with a string of sheer gowns and a runway strut from Galliano in a particularly deep-v vest. As my new French friend said to me, “Beaucoup de boobies this season, n’est-ce pas?”