Grace Coddington’s going to be at Clic Gallery next week to sign copies of her book Catwalk Cats.

The book, which features a Sally Singer penned introduction, came out a few years ago and I remember walking by the Marc Jacobs store on Bleecker, just weeks after moving here, and catching a glimpse of Grace’s hair through the window at its launch party. I was in awe that just a window separated me from Grace Coddington.

The book hasn’t gone anywhere, but Thursday’s signing is for charity - and fun. A portion of the book’s proceeds will go toward the Animal Rescue Fund (Grace is, after all, a huge cat lover).

You can pre-order the book at 212.966.2766 and the event starts at 7pm at 255 Centre Street.

Confession: I haven’t read a full article in American Vogue in a very, very long time.

This weekend, I stopped in the street - seriously - to read Hamish Bowles’ story about three days spent in Utah’s desert. It feels like almost every issue of Vogue has a green bent at this point, and for November, a handful of writers scattered around the country, or the five boroughs in Sally Singer’s case, to explore nature.

Hamish enrolled in an adventure course at the Boulder Outdoor Survivor School in Southern Utah, headed to Paragon Sports to pick through “synthetic balaclavas” and “a brace of cotton bandanas in lilac and purple” which “promised a style continuum with [his] urban world,” before Anna subtly demanded, “You can do it.”

Then off he went to scale baby mountains, wade through rivers, sleep in tents and eat bear poop (sort of) without even the comfort of his Barbour jacket. The piece is so brilliantly written that even if you’ve given up on Anna’s Vogue, you must read it. (Which, I’ve just learned, you can do here; but for Condé’s sake, it’d be nice to buy it!)

In Vogue’s April issue, Sally Singer hung out with Zoe Kravitz and Olivia Thirlby while they searched high and low for clog boots.

Though no one, from Alex Wang to Opening Ceremony knew what she was talking about, Olivia insisted, “I’m bringing back the clog.”

To which we thought, “No thank you.”

And then of course they stomped their way down Chanel’s runway and forced us to think about them again. So here we are a couple of weeks later, split down the middle. Last night over post-party pizza I told Faran I’d never ever wear clogs. Ever. She gave them a resounding, “Hell yes.” (Though she’s had this debate before.)

Intern Alyssa says no, “They’re ugly and unflattering. Maybe a step up from Crocs,” and intern Kate agrees, “When I was little I had them in lots of different colors to match my outfits. But my mom dressed me, so I had no free will.”

The big question at Andrew Gn was: how on earth do you pronounce his last name? I asked a bunch of people because I’ve never been sure myself and no one seemed to have the answer. Maybe one of you fashionista sartorial scholars can help me out on this one?

The show was small and held in the same place where Rick Owens always shows. Though there were some major editors in attendance like Hamish (who was rocking the moustache and a giant, pink, shimmering leather tote) and Sally Singer.

The collection was far more easy to decipher than the designer’s last name. It was cocktail, it was evening, it was flowy. It was tight, at times black and white, and there were a lot of bows. There were some nice jewel tones in teals, purples and pinks and a lone pair of chocolate brown shorts.

Nothing that will make your heart stop (well, with the exception of one long, blue mermaid gown that really stood out), but it mostly seemed like stuff that would be perfect for a black tie or cocktail party where you want to look good but not steal the show.

—REBECCA SUHRAWARDI AUSTIN

In which we catch those of you, and those of us, who spent the weekend outside, away from a computer or on a phone-cation, up on the fashion Twitterverse.

1. “I don’t get it,” from @jess_stam. She’s new to the world of tweets, give her a warm welcome!

2. “A Lanvin ‘snow sprite’ cashmere elf hat. It kind of makes me feel like skipping,” from @bunnybisous who appears to have been stranded uptown in the rain.

3. “Got sandwiched between Vogue’s Sally Singer and Anna Wintour to my left and Michael Roberts and Suzy Menkes to the right,” from @bryanboy at Dolce & Gabbana. A better view of their reactions, here. Sally looks amused; Hamish looks dangerous.

4. “Is it possible to have fashion sensory overload? Tell me no. I have 10 more days and another city to go,” from @mrjoezee. Yes, yes there is sir.

5. “Spotted on the front row at Versace…..Janet Jackson,” from @dazedmagazine. She sure pops up in the strangest places.

Magical Machines: Gareth Pugh constructed outrageous plastic masks to accompany Thierry Mugler’s cyborg outfits for Dazed & Confused’s man machine issue. {DazedDigital}

Paris Je T’aime: It’s the second annual A Shaded View on Fashion Film festival curated by Diane Pernet and hosted by Jeu de Paume and Standard Magazine. You can submit your films here. {ShadedViewOnFashion}

So Clutch: Karla Martinez sees snake and we see chains, either way, this is both chic, inexpensive and not a copy. Hurray! {TheMoment}

Just in Case: Todd Selby put it up last week, but just in case you missed the peek inside Sally Singer’s Chelsea Hotel apartment, here you go. We got stuck on the shoe picture - where’d the Nicholas Kirkwood Rodarte’s go? {TheSelby}

I spent a rainy afternoon hanging out with Jeffrey Costello and Robert Tagliapietra in their Brooklyn studio.

The boys, who’ve been working, living, breathing together for over fifteen years without ever fighting - they swear - live and work in a warmly decorated brownstone with their lovable bulldog Sammy.

We listened to their i-pod shuffle and talked about when Madonna lived across the hall and what happened when Vogue called. I tried to get Jeffrey to talk, but he’s shy and Sammy’s barks were more than willing to fill in.

The two of them do everything - from sewing their samples to filling their own orders to casting their own shows and love every minute of it. If you’re wondering just how much work that is, read on.

I landed in Paris this morning, grabbed my tickets and pranced through Paris’ gloomy rain to the Boulevard Faubourg de Saint-Martin for Gareth Pugh’s Fall 09 show. There, a surprisingly small group of people stood behind a curtain in a tiny black room before being ushered into a make-shift movie theatre.

I knew something was up when they handed me a credit sheet declaring, Model: Natasa Vojnovic. Natalie emailed, “Is she listed for every look?” Before I could respond, I realized I’d be watching the same video that everyone around the world (or every fashion obsessed person around the world) would be watching live on ShowStudio.

Granted, I was watching it in a mini-warehouse, full of three white benches, Suzy Menkes, Sally Singer, Lauren Santo Domingo, Jefferson Hack, Pugh-wearing London kids, Rick Owens and loads of dry ice-induced smoke. People actually smiled during the video, so impressive were Natasa’s warrior dance moves, not to mention Gareth’s collection, before hopping to the back room to congratulate the soft-spoken designer on a kind of historical fashion moment.

We finally left to grab a bite to eat in between the show and the party, our only regret that we wouldn’t get to see the nailed bodices and pleated trousers in person - until Natasa Vojnovic turned the corner, charging across the cobblestones, arms linked with Kate Lanphear and trailing a Gareth cape - which means Paris Fashion Week is off to a grand start.

I woke up bright and early today - except it wasn’t bright, it’s thundering and raining - to trek across the city to Sophie Theallet’s runway show. I abandoned all hope of appropriate Fashion Show outfits in lieu of ripped jean shorts and rain boots.

The only thing I knew about Sophie was that she was Alaia’s right hand woman for a very long time, but that was really all I needed to know. I’ve been an Alaia devotee since Cher went to that party in the valley in her red dress.

Anyway, Sophie’s clothes are nothing like Alaia’s, but they’re beautiful, just like the cast of stunning black models who wore her very simple, but perfectly constructed clothes down the sparse runway.

The collection started with a thin, white ruffled dress and slowly moved into prints and sheer black silk layered over brighter colors.

The stellar front row included Cathy Horyn, (who was also wearing jean shorts!!!), Michael Roberts, Grace Coddington, Nigel Barker and Sally Singer, who had a smile on her face most of the time.

That tells you more than I ever could.