Hoopla, schmoopla. Stephen Burrows' venue for his no-frills, low-tech presentation was his Garment District showroom, and the accompanying soundtrack may very well have been blasted from a boom box propped up backstage. Up front, the models (a whopping six of them, including Pat Cleveland's daughter Anna) waved from their marks to the designer's gathered friends.

But while the production values were low-key, the clothes were a different story. Bright, tight, and polished, these were look-at-me party frocks inspired by the kaleidoscopic colors of Times Square on a sultry night. Even the occasional buff tones had citified origins: Burrows likened them to the steam that rises from the sidewalk grates and manholes of Manhattan. "Fussy's not good," Burrows said of his summer dressing philosophy. Aside from the prints—which were swirly, sparkly rainbow whorls—there was nothing complicated about his simple silk georgette gowns and shirtdresses. With the exception of a few sequins, the collection's sole embellishment was a jewel-encrusted shoulder on a jersey tunic, worn over lime green lounge pants. Directional? Hardly. Supremely fun? Absolutely.