Fashion Week always brings to light contrasts. One of them is this: Some designers treat their shows like business presentations.They hope their clothes are dramatic and memorable, of course, but, for the logistics of the show itself, they aim for efficiency and professionalism.

Other designers see a show as an event, like a rock concert, whose significance can only be enhanced by the delays, physical discomforts, and the basic rudeness with which the guests are treated.

Tuleh and Cynthia Steffe were both models of professionalism. Many of Tuleh’s clothes were even appropriate for a business meeting. The theme was “American Spectators,” which meant a lot of black and white, as well as high-necked, patterned silk dresses that were evocative of the 1930s and 1940s and could have been worn by a young Lauren Bacall.

The black and white clothes were naturally striking, paired with black-and-white spectator pumps. In terms of cut, though, they were restrained and ready for the street. High-necked, sheer, subtly ruffled blouses were paired with thin pencil skirts. A large-scale houndstooth print was the perfect garb for an aspiring Girl Friday.

As the show progressed and incorporated color, the clothes became more humorous. An otherwise plain black silk dress had a slender forearm and hand wrapped around it. A black wool coat — simply cut, without lapels — had a pattern that looked like bunches of multicolored crayons. The only clothes that won’t go easily from the runway to the real world were three short dresses — black, white, and pink — with skirts that pouffed out like clouds of cotton candy.

Ms. Steffe asked guests to imagine “Catherine and Brigitte frolicking in St. Tropez. “For her, this summoned lots of white sundresses, boatnecked blouses, eyelet rompers, and cute, relaxed trenches in colors like “celadon” and “marigold.” She wholeheartedly embraced the revival of cigarette pants, pairing the pants with tunics and girlish, empire-waist dresses. The only misstep was a pattern of detailing on some of the dresses and tops: an effort to put the bra on the outside of the shirt by adding bra-like straps. The extra lines merely cluttered what was otherwise a sunny, carefree look.

Because Tara Subkoff of Imitation of Christ shows in her own garage-like space in Chelsea, she can choose to run the show any way she wants. In the past, her way has often been overthe-top: There have been musical performances, and, once, a President Bush impersonator. This year, there were, mercifully, no sideshows — only a ridiculous and unexplained wait outside the entrance, while nonchalant staff members cheerfully handed out beers to those lucky enough to get in. When the actress Scarlett Johansson arrived, a ripple of energy went through the crowd. It wasn’t excitement at her presence per se, but at what it meant, which was that the show would finally start.

The clothes were inspired, Ms. Subkoff said, by Tokyo streetwear — Lolita looks every bit as juvenile as the evening’s organization. The first model dangled a huge teddy bear from one hand. Others had big teddy-bear wristbands, or stuffed-animal purses. The clothes were littlegirl dresses; long, hooded sweatshirts; striped knee socks.There were silver and gold catsuits; smock dresses with kimono sleeves; drab, gray shirtdresses that resembled school uniforms but were deconstructed, so that they fell off the shoulders, or had only one sleeve.The final looks left behind contemporary Tokyo for a sort of 18th-century operatic fantasy: A model in a blood-red, strapless taffeta gown that came to menacing points above the breasts, with a fan in her teased blond hair, evoked Marie Antoinette as a dominatrix.