Did the new designers take their street culture inspiration a little too far?

PARIS--Bernhard Wilhelm. How I long for his shows. Every season, the Austrian designer manages to make the typically unfazed French turn PC-consciou

Did you know it's Paris Fashion Week? It is and we have a page for it. Once we're done obsessing over Carven's collection, we're going to head over

For those of you who haven’t heard of the German designer, forget everything you expect from a fashion show, and be ready to welcome gaffer tape and coconuts into your sartorial lingo. Known for his taste for nu-rave and home appliances, Bernhard Willhelm held a presentation in a gallery by the Marais--or rather, a tiny sweatbox where beer and shots of tequila were generously handed out. It seemed like the show had been excitedly thrown together the night before: the décor consisted of roles of scotch tape and string hanging from the ceiling, holding together bits of painted cardboard and fruits. Girls marched down topless with painted nipples, in football jerseys converted into dresses. The models held giant paper tubes (like oversized, erm, cigarettes) and blew out flour onto everyone’s clothes, while strutting, dancing and sticking their tongues out.

The Bernhard Willhelm men's show in Paris this past week was all kinds of amazing. There was a lot going on--crazy colors, nakedness, strange painted on tan lines, and funny tattoos and words written on muscled chests and thighs and forearms.

To some extent, every fashion week is always a gender studies class: each collection always questions norms and archetypes, and forever reinvents their own personal ideals. Yesterday, three presentations offered their own definition of masculinity, for three very different results.

I'm rarely in heels, and when I am, it's never for that long. Why? Well, I like being comfortable, and I can't be bothered to learn how to actually walk in the damn things. But there's always an exception, right? Like these Bernhard Willhelm pumps, created by the designer exclusively for Camper.

PARIS--Lacroix is back, ladies and gentlemen--sans Christian, alas. When the house closed in 2009 after going through severe financial trouble, we mourned its baroque dementia. But today, Sacha Walkhoff, his assistant of 17 years, is in charge. “We are going to run the house very differently than we once did,” said Walkhoff, “we are currently developing lots of licenses, and are starting by relaunching Lacroix homme. We’ll wait a little longer to restart women.” The line, shown through a presentation at the Maria Luisa boutique themed around "migrating boys," was for elegant globetrotters: Suits with flowery seams and lining, spurts of color and button badges. “Lacroix, Chapter Two” as Walkhoff put it. Bernhard Willhelm did his usual nutty number: the Solomon de Rotschild private mansion in Paris was taken over and transformed into a gigantic performance that looked like Willy Wonka going off to the jungle.

We're Fashionista. Of course we like sunglasses. But this year, it seems to be the accessory of choice: The Thing everything wants to get their hands on. Who cares if they're from The Row or Target? As long as they look good, we're happy. So we've rounded up the season's best. We'll be following up later today with a few longer features on the world of sunnies, so stay tuned. **All graphics by Steff Yotka.