The first two days of New York Fashion Week were cold. I don't mean 'a little bit chilly' cold. I mean cold that cuts into your bones and boxes your ears in as you're working, rendering you numb and speechless. Good thing I've been sweeping into shows all eyes on clothes and not making any conversation. Peter Som showed a lot of the sort of outerwear that I could have ripped off the models, running away from Mac Milk studios swathed with furry arms.