The Best Looks From New York Fashion Week Fall 2017

In a season where the biggest trend has been designers showing their love for New York City, Marc Jacobs's runway was the caramel coating on the juicy big apple. Through exaggerated Kangol-style hats, Seventies-worthy platform boots, big gold pendants and a synthesis of street style spanning from the Sugarhill Gang to OutKast, his collection was a reminder that revolutions begin in the street. At precisely 2 PM, the first models walked out in what Jacobs called his "representation of the well-studied dressing up of casual sportswear. It is an acknowledgment and gesture of my respect for the polish and consideration applied to fashion from a generation that will forever be the foundation of youth culture street style." He was speaking specifically of the hip-hop generation of the '70s, '80s and '90s. 

There were the standards of American style: jackets, sweaters and denim in long, fluid Seventies silhouettes—the kind seen just around the time hip-hop took root, co-opted these styles and created a whole new subculture. Here, argyle sweaters, menswear checked pants, giant fur coats and frilly lingerie walked with swagger and exaggerated excess. 

The styling was over-the-top, with Jacobs mentioning Andre 3000 at one point. But broken down, the clothes were everyday: v-neck sweaters in blue, maroon, camel; zipped knit toppers; cashmere pants left a little loose (tailor at will), and a lineup of great leather bags. Even the tracksuit, à la Run DMC at its prime.

Jacobs always puts extra effort into outerwear, and there were a ton of options here. Shearling-collared coats hit the right note of nostalgia while Fair Isle-meets-bomber looks offered something new. The designer did not back away from fur, either, showing half fur-half tweed toppers and giant fur chubbies that were, to use '80s hip-hop vernacular, tight. 

This season saw Jacobs philosophical, political and tired of jumping through hoops. Like other designers before him, he just wanted to design clothes he loved and present them without frenzy. He politely asked that his audience refrained from taking pictures (Busted, anyone who posted pics from the show. You know who you are.), and after the models lapped the runway, they sat outside on marked fold-up chairs—like the ones the guests sat on—and took pictures of the guests as they left. How's that for a fashion 180? 

When Ralph decides to give a woman flowers, he doesn't half-ass it. It's not in his vocabulary. For his presentation, he transformed the uptown Madison Avenue Ralph Lauren flagship into a garden of greenery and orchids, a graceful stage from which he launched a collection (available right afterward) of neutral-toned ready-to-wear that for Lauren-ites work in Manhattan, Easthampton and Kenya. 

Sporty separates like gently tailored blazers and button-downs mixed with day dresses cut either crisp and architectural or silky and fluid and crochet dresses. Lauren varied his silhouettes to give his clients variety but kept the earthy palette consistent, adding in leopard totes and satchels, snake platform sandals and bold, tribal metal necklaces to anchor it all. 

There's always an element of leather and denim chez Ralph, this time seen in sexy motorcycle pants, a jumpsuit and a great belted jacket worn with harem pants—all black-on-black.

The silk road continued for evening, with a bevy of lustrous long gowns in crushed monotone silk or subtle florals. In a few places, Lauren brought in an exotic theme, seen in the sari-like shoulder drape of one gown or the print of another. 

In a true mix of high-low, uptown-meets-downtown and urban glamour, the show ended on a silk parachute gown in a painterly floral worn open over a pair of terrifically distressed jeans. You never know when you might need to make a dashing getaway.

Just clothes, thanks. Like he did last season, Derek Lam presented in a manner so civilized, editors and retailers were lulled into forgetting it was the tail end of Fashion Week. They sat on modern white leather couches (some not even having to share) while models walked through, and Lam himself leaned up against a nearby wall. No rarified Oz-behind-the-curtain; no front row fracas or jostle for a celebrity/social media/reality star picture. Just clothes, up close and personal. Much the way the women who would ultimately be buying them in the store would see them.

Lam swung from minimal and almost monastic in places to feminine—pastel blouse and off-white pleated skirt—and cheerfully bright. Hello, cherry red turtleneck and purple leather skirt! 

Up close is better—to parse that a red floral brocade suit would be that daring purchase of the season, possibly worth it if you are bold enough to go for head-to-toe. But also to discover that a purple leather skirt can be a workhorse of a daytime wardrobe, specially cut in a clean '70s silhouette the way Lam did it. 

There were no repeats here—Lam wasn't wasting anyone's time, including his own. A deconstructed fisherman sweater and black-and-white fur vest brought volume to the party, while long fluid pleated skirts were dotted with architectural studs and embellishment. 

Lam seemed to have a freedom to try things out, and they turned out nicely, whether a smart navy coat with placement embellishment or a plush belted look with vaguely bohemian floral motif. On a runway, these choices may not have made as much sense as they would in the intimate setting that resembled a seasonal closet. So, Lam for the win.