The very best thing about this time of year is that the cooler weather forces women, finally, to cover up their bodies. Even when I was a young, much less ample woman in the daring 1960s, I had enough sense to disguise my body’s flaws from the public. Looking at what women are wearing (or rather what they’re not wearing) today, however, I can only pray for an amended rebirth of Lady Bird Johnson’s campaign: Keep America Beautiful, Ladies – Cover Up.

I’ve had so many ill-advisedly exposed belly buttons shoved into my point of view while sitting on the subway that I’ve nearly missed my stop after closing my eyes in self-defense. I know that stretch marks and cellulite are everyday facts of life, but that does not mean they warrant constant exposure. Nevertheless, I bravely went to Bryant Park for Fashion Week to preview whatever horrors might descend on gullible females next spring.

Of course, I’m not being serious, because the only show I ever go to is Carmen Marc Valvo’s, and he never fails to impress me with his tasteful designs – which, of course, I will never be able to wear. Fashion Week attracts the shallowest among us, and when it comes to superficiality the tent shows at Bryant Park rank as the no. 1 draw. This time I brought along a dear friend who had never been to one of these extravaganzas, so while she was there to see the designer I’d been raving about, I was there to scan the crowd, in hopes of seeing an upgrade in sensibility there.

Celebrities were out in full force, pursued by the fashion paparazzi. Rachel Hunter is tall and still very beautiful. Rod Stewart, you must be blind! I had great seats and sat right behind the ever-shrinking Star Jones, of ABC’s “The View.” As the great Fernando Lamas would have said, “Star, you look marvelous.”

But the crowd was another matter. My friend, Suzanne, seemed surprised that so many of the spectators were so sloppily dressed. There were, of course, the usual over-the-top exhibitionists, but those were a delight to see because at least they made an effort, however garish, in their choice of clothing, to make a statement on fashion. The only statement made by quite a few was “Yes, I am a slob.” One seriously doubts that those attending the Paris runway shows would be so careless in their appearance, but that’s all we see now on the streets of New York City. Apparently, Mr. Valvo feels the same way, as I overheard him mentioning to CNN’s Judy Licht today’s “dressed-down society” and the reasons his designs emphasize glamour.

Boy, do we need it. Fashion has always drawn its inspiration from the streets, but it’s time to put that motion in reverse. We need designers who have the class and the will to use their talents to drive our tastes upward.

I may have grown up in a very poor and dangerous neighborhood, but I could always travel downtown to Bloomingdale’s, Bonwit Teller, Saks, and Lord & Taylor and dream of one day affording the beautiful clothes on display there. What’s considered fashionable today, however, is what Eighth Avenue “ladies” of the evening used to wear.

As the wafer-thin model drifted by wearing Carmen Marc Valvo’s “Yasmin,” a pearl silk crepe back satin gown, visions of the Astaire-Rogers films sprang to mind, from a time when Hollywood meant glamour. That glamour era had already disappeared by the time I entered adulthood, but at least I had that ideal frame of reference. Art Deco hotels, big bands, and black-tie events may be a reality in classic movies, but the sad fact is that we don’t even dress up for church anymore.

Once again I have to blame the 1960s for the demise of taste. I was there when it died. It was slaughtered by hippies and yippies. Most were frauds – middle-class and rich kids slumming with the poor, getting down and dirty, eschewing shaving and bathing. Grunge came next, and most recently hip-hop fashion has invaded Seventh Avenue. The irony is that the genuine poor can’t afford to dress down fashionably. Jeans that hang way down low around their hips cost a fortune.

I urge Carmen Marc Valvo, Giorgio Armani, Ralph Lauren, et al. to spearhead a campaign to undo our dress down society: to bring back class and sophistication in New York City.

They can start by having a dress code at their own tent shows.