
Summer 2012 may have just ended two days ago, but in the fashion industry, it's all about spring 2013.
New York Fashion Week (aka, Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week) doesn't officially start until Thursday, September 6th, but there are so many off-calendar shows on Wednesday that I'm forced to hit the ground running a day early, despite still being in chillaxed summer mode after several weeks at the beach (I know, I know, boo-fucking-hoo).

I had planned to swing by Lincoln Center to pick up my press credentials first thing, but it's raining like crazy—and there's often an hour-long wait outdoors the first day registration opens—so I decide to hold off until tomorrow morning (when it's supposed to be sunny) and head over to the Park Avenue Armory instead to see what Juan Carlos Obando is up to this season. As JC chats with a steady stream of buyers (Bergdorf's LInda Fargo, Barney's Tomoko Orguro, Amazon's Julie Gilhart), I take in his subtly patterned creations, which are worn by surreal animal head mannequins (made by his LA artist friend Sebastian Paul) who stand like otherworldly sentinels in the stately wood-paneled salon. Turns out the prints were taken from JC's days as a graphic designer. "I wanted to merge the two worlds" he says of his past and present careers. The graphic animal prints work to great effect on twisted bodice dresses and sheer, low-slung trousers—and the whimsical papier-mâché heads add a playful twist to the supremely elegant clothing.

A few blocks south, Hermès is hosting Festival des Métiers, a four-day "rendezvous with Hermès craftsmen." I wander around the glittering hall, watching live demonstrations of engraving, saddle making, tailoring and other decorative arts. It's fascinating to see the painstaking work that goes into crafting every product made by the house of Hermès, and makes one appreciate exactly why the stuff is so damn expensive.

Downtown at the Maritime Hotel Cabanas, Brooklyn designer Whitney Pozgay debuts a fun, upbeat collection full of tropical prints, maritime stripes and easy-breezy silhouettes for her label WHIT (inspired by her recent St. Lucia honeymoon), all styled to quirky perfection by my pal Doria Santlofer. The indoor/outdoor venue is the perfect complement to the jungle print dresses and playful straw chapeaux, and palm fronds make an appearance on ankle-length dresses and in ceramic pots that ring the terrace.

Then it's time to Head West, Young Woman, to Rachel Comey's show at Pier 59 on the West Side Highway. While a monotonous live band drones in the background, the designer—who is due to give birth to her second child today (yes, today, as in the day of her show)—sent out terrific white textured tunics, jumpsuits and flippy hem skirts, along with quilted sundresses in a sophisticated, pixilated floral, several two-tone, flutter-bodice dresses (that skewed more cool than cute), and a series of soigné maillots, some with cutouts or mesh panel details. The prints were moody and gorgeous, and the metallic shoes had many a guest—including Manrepeller's Leandra Medine and Refinery 29's Christene Barberich—swooning.

After a quick catch-up with my friend Amina (aka, the lovely and talented executive editor of Elle.com), I hightail it over to Soho, where Laura Siegel is presenting her desert-inspired collection in the soon-to-open Debut New York showroom helmed by Lisa Weiss. Working with artisans in Peru, Bolivia and India, Laura—who has been nominated for the 2012 MADE for Peroni Young Designer Award—offers handmade pieces including fringed macramé maxis, rugged leather vests, draped jersey dresses and shibori tie-dyed prints in natural shades of green and bark offset by the unexpected pops of neon found in desert flowers.

Around the corner at the United Colors of Benetton Art of Knit pop-up shop, I'm treated to the sight of woolly, life-sized couples going at it on tables, on the floor and while suspended from the ceiling, alongside less NSW installations (including an adorable knit basketball hoop, watermelon and other unlikely surprises). The overall vibe is fun, sexy and colorful and I'm bummed to learn that the luscious-hued sweaters won't be sale until the following day (boo!). I am consoled, however, by the goody bag, which contains a Benetton print t-shirt (cute!) and a purple knit iPad cover (even cuter!).

The Julie Verhoeven exhibit on display at Galeria Melissa on Greene Street is decidedly less NC-17, though it's just as engaging, from the found object mobile collages surrounding the entrance to the dreamlike video installations in the rear of the space. And the brightly tressed London-based artist herself is on hand, personally customizing the white peep-toe flats she designed for the Brazilian footwear brand, which are being given to guests as they exit the party. "I'm not going to do too much to yours," she says to me in a stage whisper. "I think it ruins them. I want you to want to wear them." She discreetly signs her name on the back of one of the size 9's intended for my goody bag, and I leave the store in a haze of happiness, the proud owner of a pair of signed Julie Verhoeven originals.

After a delightful cab ride with a young driver two weeks' into the job—who, at my urging, fills me in on his life story along the way (he was a chef for seven years, has a degree in chemical engineering, is newly married, and started driving a cab when said chemical engineering degree failed to result in a paying job)—I arrive at Erin Fetherson's presentation at MADE at The Standard. Held in the High Line Room (an outdoor terrace overlooking the High Line and the Hudson), the space is literally wall-to-wall with people, which makes it somewhat difficult to see the clothes. I elbow my way to the edge of the crowd and manage to glimpse some PYTs in PYDs: red-and-white dip-dyed chiffon dresses, ivory strapless gowns and black and white embellished party frocks, along with a great nude-and-chartreuse pants suit. The crowd, however, just makes me sad, filled as it is with desperate-seeming fashion hangers-on lounging on banquettes swilling ginger/vodka cocktails while posing with excruciatingly self-conscious nonchalance in an attempt to attract the attention of the many photographers hovering nearby, who outnumber the models 5 to 1.

My last stop of the day is MoMA, where newbie Tanya Taylor is presenting her much-buzzed about collection (she's already been profiled in T, Daily Candy, WWD, NYmag.com and NBC). Her publicist, Patrick Bradbury, tells me the presentation is running about 15 minutes late. I don't usually drink on duty, but I'm hot and parched—and this is my ninth event today—so when 15 minutes turns to 30…and then 40…I accept a Campari and white wine spritzer, which I gratefully guzzle while waiting for the proverbial show to get on the proverbial road. The MoMA lobby, meanwhile, is SRO by the time the doors finally open. Taylor (who worked at Elizabeth and James before launching her own label last season), hits the mark with a tightly edited collection of wide-legged trousers and swingy cropped tops, boxy jackets with matching cigarette pants, full-skirt dresses and two-tone tunics in black, white and cement grey enlivened by bold floral prints and pops of tangerine. It's all very Sixties Modern—and was definitely worth the wait.
And with that, I call it a night.
