At various points during this week, I’ve realized that I’m a bit of a mess. I’ve always thought of myself as organized, maybe with a touch of OCD. Nary a label in my refrigerator faces backward. But like everyone, I spill on myself sometimes. I never have time to steam my clothes, and I never blow-dry my hair. It’s all fine, but I found myself thinking about the idea of imperfection during the last days of New York Fashion Week.

First up was the COS show inside an industrial space in Greenpoint. It was a beautiful collection, filled with crisp, clean lines and covetable pieces like angular collared jackets, baggy check-printed sets, and sumptuous coats. COS has the perfect, minimalist wardrobe at a very attainable price point. Their clothes make you look put together, sophisticated, cool. So do the Scandi-style collections from Toteme, a Stockholm-based label that has shown in New York for the last two seasons. Helmed by Elin Kling and Karl Lindman, Toteme has become the go-to brand for chic minimalists who are keen to invest in a wardrobe and accessories that, in price point, sit somewhere between COS and The Row. Right now, their U.S. business is booming, and it’s not difficult to understand why.

Their show on Monday morning was held at The Pool, the iconic restaurant inside the Seagram Building on Park Avenue. All of the tables and chairs were removed, and a slender line of benches was built around the perimeter of the room and the pool, with pristine ivory carpeting decorating the floors and seating. It was the kind of clinically clean space you walk into and thank god that you didn’t bring your coffee inside. Many in attendance were dressed to match, wearing their latest Toteme crewneck sweaters with perfectly pressed wide-leg trousers and silver belts, or Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy-esque straight leather jackets with ironed, belted jeans. When the show began, a collection of smart, summery, mostly white separates emerged, styled by editor Camilla Nickerson. There were square cut, folded collars on knits and long coats, crochet tank dresses layered over slinkier tank dresses, and a very nice pop of pink in an Oxford shirt worn beneath a shrunken V-neck sweater. (The fact that the shirt didn’t look like it was struggling to breathe was an impressive feat, I thought.) The whole thing felt light as air, but also like the kind of wardrobe you might see on a woman who you both fear and idolize—someone strong, confident, powerful, never without a hair out of place. Her food and beverage labels definitely face forward in the fridge.