Head of the Class — As and high Bs all around:

Lady Gaga in Mugler — Leave it to Gags to show up shitting tulle in a bodysuit, 24-inch tranny heels and an aquamarine wig. You don’t win the Fashion Icon award by resting on your Hussein Chalayan rebirthing egg laurels.

Daphne Guinness in Abed Mahfouz – Another member of the Sisterhood of the Traveling Tranny Heel, the always impeccable Daphne Guinness chose relatively unknown Beirut designer,  Abed Mahfouz to wonderful effect .

Kirsten Dunst in Patrik Ervell — I feel like I’m experiencing a Kirsten Dunst renaissance. First she wins the top acting prize at Cannes, now I actually like her choice in red carpet attire? What goes on here? Though honestly, I’m always a sucker for a woman in a tux and a high bun.

Karolina Kurkova in Diane von Furstenberg — An emerald, hooded jumpsuit, sashed at the waist? Karolina literally looks like the ghost of Grace Jones…and she very well might be since god knows where the hell that brick house full of crazy is these days.

Chloë Sevigny in Chloë Sevigny for Opening Ceremony — Leather and lace and giving face. Nothing’s wrong with a little free self-promotion, though her lady humps seem to be angling for some attention all their own.

Betsey Johnson in Betsey Johnson — Why the hell not? Betsey looks great — and in all black! — but the tulle ballerina skirt remains in tact, if only a few inches south. But for girls our age, Bets, everything ends up heading south eventually.

Chanel Iman in BCBG Max Azria — Lady and the vamp! Looks like Chanel and Karolina both hopped on the same 70s soul train, but with a bit of leg, a flash of cleav and a shoulder or two, Chanel is ready to steam up some mirrored disco balls.

Call me crazy just as long as you call Michelle Harper perfect. I’m not sure what she’s wearing, but I want one in every color.

Thanks for coming –  Solid effort, solid C‘s, high D‘s

Ashley and Mary-Kate Olsen in The Row — I’m convulsing over MK’s gold lamé jacket, I just wish Ash had chosen to accessorize a little more. Hair up, statement necklace and a cat eye never hurt anyone. The Row bags, while cute, also look like mini-briefcases, which for an evening dress, is a little jarring.

Vera Wang in Vera Wang – Vera, Vera, Vera. While I love a cowl neck, this look makes Morticia Addams look like Patricia Goddamn Field. Where’s the color? Where’s the fun? I would’ve taken a beading wedding gown over this funereal frump any day of the week.

Erin Fetherston in Erin Fetherston — The CFDAs might have to instill a ban on designers dressing themselves. Though the dress is lovely — and that bang is flawless — the color washes Erin out completely. Also, another lack of accessories! Does no one wear jewelry anymore?

Expelled — Failing grades, F’s, you

Joy Bryant (and Rachel Roy) in Rachel Roy — For the permanent record, Rachel looks good, not her best look, but she gets a passing grade. Barely. Because after all, she also dressed Joy, who’s going to have to stay after school and bang the erasers. And from the looks of that dress, she might also be banging the janitor.

Tory Burch in Tory Burch — You can try to dress up a burlap sack as much as possible, but then it’s just a burlap sack with some awful polka dots and some even more awful ill-placed beads. Or bottlecaps. What are those actually?

Sessilee Lopez in Zac Posen — One question: why? An old lady dress on a stunning, young supermodel still looks like an old lady dress. And frankly, I doubt any dames of a certain age would be caught dead wearing this. It’s unflattering, there’s too much going on about the bodice and worst of all it looks cheap. Zac, I would like to see you in my office. Bring the butt paddle.

Photos: WWD, Style.com, NY Mag

I somehow, inadvertently was able to catch the encore presentation of this annual “fashion show”, and not surprisingly, was pretty much disappointed. Maybe it’s the fact that what I had hoped to be a fashion-forward platform for innovative, up-and coming black designers actually turns out to be a quasi-concert where video vixens replace actual models that results in my inevitable indifference, if not despondency. I mean, I get it—it’s the fusion of hip hop and fashion, a cultural melange of creative expression. However (and this is where they get it wrong), the predictable drone that is mainstream rap completely overshadows and, at times, dictates some of the fashions that stanky-legged down the runway Sunday night. Not to say that there weren’t some designers that managed to stand out: Korto Momolu’s breezy, ethnic-inspired dresses and jumpsuits, and Byron Lars’ sophistocated twist on timeless, classic pieces were dreamy and well executed. Even the fact that Joy Bryant was actually wearing makeup and not looking dowdy for a change was enough to keep me watching till the very end. But then there was the tacky, repetitive, done-to-death streetwear, rapper-sponsored labels and Baby Phat copycats that turned promise into mediocrity. This probably wouldn’t have happened had they let Kanye West get involved, as much as I hate to say it, since he seems to be such the fashion savant nowadays. There’s always next year…