FASHION WEEK wrapped up in New York on Friday, concluding an eight-day survey of offerings such as wicker-embellished dresses by Cynthia Rowley, perforated leather dresses by Francisco Costa and, according to Style.com, something called "bubble fur." But for those of us whose sartorial range is more limited, a new book by the editors of Glamour magazine provides the invaluable — and very high-school-like — service of imparting critical life lessons while making fun of people.

The "Dos and Don'ts" are great fun, mostly because they might be the closest the print media has to a public stockade. The "Don'ts" are ominous cautionary tales. A freak show of overexposed bellies, visible panty lines, ridiculous color combinations and sandals paired with socks (the all-time gravest sin, at least for non-Germans), the "Don'ts" represent the quickest possible route to making us feel better about ourselves. By gawking at the poor judgment of others, we can momentarily forget the fact that we once wore parachute pants to a college interview or, perhaps as recently as last week, donned "a strangely striped top" (see "Just Don't," page 83.)

For the record, by "we" I mean any one of us. I did not wear parachute pants to any college interview. I wore a peasant dress with saddle shoes.

Unlike the "Dos and Don'ts" page in the magazine, the book makes an effort to drive home the idea that we've all been "Don'ts" at one time or another. The very "Do"-ish Cindi Leive, who is editor in chief of Glamour and lead author of the book, writes candidly of her own "Don't" choices, including a puffy-sleaved taffeta prom dress in 1984. Invoking a spirit of togetherness, she notes that "Dos and Don'ts" photographer Ronnie Andren, who's spotted fashion stooges all over the country and shoots an average of 400 rolls of film a month, sees at least four "Don'ts" for every "Do." "If you recognize yourself hiding under [the] black bar," Leive writes, "remember, we're laughing with you, not at you."

A couple of things come to mind here. First, I, for one, am laughing at, not with, you, and I suspect I'm not alone. Second, four "Don'ts" for every "Do"? That seems a little low. A stroll down Melrose Avenue recently turned up no fewer than 20 "Don'ts" for every borderline "Do," at least in my non-fashionista estimation. Ditto for the corner of Hollywood and Highland. And don't even get me started on the Beverly Center.

And I'm not one of those transplanted New Yorkers who thinks Angelenos don't know how to dress. These days it seems the whole country is a Glamour "Don't." It's not unusual to see large amounts of flesh draped over sausage-like miniskirts, thongs rising up beneath them like a rogue sidewalk vine. Aside from the unfortunate cellulite-to-fabric ratios — and the plain fact that many Glamour "Don'ts" would probably be "Dos" on professional models — the way people dress these days makes even a high school yearbook from 1978 look like a copy of French Vogue.