Still Going Strong: Indochine celebrated its new book earlier in the week after twenty-five years in business. Give us vintage Kate and Christy any day. {TheMoment}

Oh, Louie Louie: Lara may be fronting the actual spring/summer campaign for Louis Vuitton, but Daisy Lowe’s secured a spot in their “beach-wear lookbook,” whatever that means. She shoots in Miami this weekend. {Grazia}

Get Your Cavalli On: Isabeli Fontana just shot Roberto Cavalli’s spring/summer campaign with Carolyn Murphy. The first makes perfect sense, the second’s still confusing. {Fashionologie}

Catch This Wave: After spending last week in Costa Rica, I still refuse to wear a coat in New York. Thankfully, Vogue’s avoiding reality with me. This week’s Most Wanted appeals to your inner surfer girl. {Vogue}

Extreme Carine: Isabeli snags a French Vogue cover, shot by David Sims which we like very much. We also like coverlines that actually make us pay attention. How extreme will they go? Can’t wait to see. {Models.com}

Two All Beef Patties, Special Sauce, Etc: Yesterday it was moustache tees. And today brings a shirt featuring another one of our favorite things, Big Macs. Thanks Traver Rains! {Nylon}

Product Overload: We’re so pumped to see Nine , unattractive Vogue cover notwithstanding. The ladies look so gorgeous in the trailer but we had no idea there was that much product on set. But when Rob Marshall says it’s “all about the hair” you gotta stock up on hairspray. {Allure}

Costume Season: We don’t mean the kind that comes with candy corn. Though these pieces of jewelry make us equally happy and decidedly less nauseous. {W}

—PHOTOGRAPHY BY JEREMY KOST

I finally went to Saks on Friday.

I knew things were bad - I live in New York, I work in fashion, I have lawyer friends and retail friends and finance friends, a roommate from Detroit and parents who aren’t too far, sorry, weren’t too far, from retirement - but seeing Saks in worse shape than Union Square’s Trader Joe’s on Sunday afternoon was, basically, horrifying.

Where YSL bags and Chloe clutches proudly sat are stacks of crumpled $50 cashmere. Rolling racks fill almost every aisle, so stuffed with this season’s merchandise that you can’t possibly see anything without ripping it from the hanger. Marc by Marc Resort 2009 is already 40% off and I found Alexander McQueen sequined leggings on the floor. Someone wrapped Alaia belts vertically around a pole by the Oscar de la Renta and I spotted the Miu Miu dress Isabeli Fontana wore on last February’s runway crumpled in a ball underneath a 50% off buffalo plaid Ralph Lauren coat hanging from one shoulder.

And the shoe salon, the shimmering bastion of exotic footwear so recently honored with its own zip code, looks tragic underneath tumbling piles of shoes that used to cost $1000. If you can wade through the Stuart Weitzmans to the scratched up Fendis, Viviers and Balenciagas, good luck finding your size because the defeated sales people are holed up in the middle of the room, the only place with regularly priced shoes and the only area without a single customer.

I still couldn’t find the handbags anywhere and not a single employee knew what I meant when I said they weren’t in their usual home - probably because they’re temporary employees, (who by the way are wearing jeans on the floor, which is a sign everyone’s pretty much given up).

I left, pouting, not even tempted by $200 Prada shoes. I should’ve skipped the trip altogether so that if, or more likely when, they finally close their doors, I remember the old Saks instead of the outlet version.

Because even though I know how important it is to “get it,” denial’s so much more comfortable.