Calling all hackers! Who’s got access to fashion writer Lynn Yaeger’s bank statements? Because I am dying to know how a single, trust-fund-free woman who spent decades at the Village Voice could ever think $900 sweaters are “typical” — and own a closetful to show for it. A self-described “consummate compulsive shopper,” with a predilection for anything designer, Yaeger, writing of her shocking lay-off and new financial reality in Vogue, claims that her salary at the Voice, supplemented by a freelance career, allowed her to buy “whatever I wanted,” including a diamond-and-sapphire ring and a forgotten, unworn Marni jacket — as if anyone but the wealthiest among us could “forget” about such a pricey garment, like you might a Gap T. Now, don’t get me wrong: I love Yaeger’s style, both on the page and on her person. But I am married to a gainfully employed finance guy, and I have never bought a piece of major-label designer clothing (accessories are a different story, though the one Prada wallet and five pairs of designer shoes in my closet — all bought two years or more ago — can hardly be counted as capricious). My point is that if a finance wife with her own career can’t buy designer and diamonds on a lark, how did Yaeger ever manage to stay in the black? Then again, maybe I’m not spending enough on my sartorial self.

Are Arabs unaware that Marc Jacobs is a Jew? Because he’s got stores in six Arab cities — many of them, confusingly, burka-only — in which the Chosen People are viewed as the People Chosen for Destruction. Not that Jacobs seems to care. Ever the subversive, you can bet Jacobs, who has such an obviously Jewish name to Western ears, revels in taking the money of his unwitting enemies — and living la vida loca with all manner of men. Inshallah, sometimes he is so fabulous.

If Glamour is the best-girlfriend of magazines — a cheerleading clotheshorse unafraid to dole out common-sense reality checks — then Lucky just might be that well-meaning, yet unpredictable man in your life whose behavior vacillates between strike-outs and grand-slams. What do I mean? Well, some months, I feel like the stupid girl who is always waiting around — i.e., searching for sartorial inspirational and failing to find anything even worth marking “Maybe?”. But this month Lucky closed the deal on our date, so to speak: I liked so much stuff in the magazine that I used nearly half the provided stickers — a record — and, as with the best issues of Lucky, I find myself combing through the book again and again, looking for things I might have missed the first time around. Even the city-specific “Shopping Trip” is a score — it’s in Paris, a place I’ll visit the rest of my life, unlike, say, the Palookaville-type towns often spotlighted. Not that retailers or economic forecasters should feel optimistic about my enthusiasm. I have never, ever sought out, much less purchased, even the most amazing things in Lucky. I’m just there for the visual thrill. On that note, a few of my favorite things from the March issue. Behold:

At left is the girl whose style most resembles mine, pixie cut and all. I’m dying over that rainbow-striped scarf and, aggravatingly enough, Lucky doesn’t provide credits for the Fashion Copycat column. My first guess at Sonia Rykiel has turned up nothing. Clue me in if you can.

These Dolce Vita sandals, right, are the kind of boho-Oaxaca thing after which I always lust and never seem to secure. May my inner Jade Jagger emerge this summer.

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While I might fantasize about looking all Karen Graham for Estee Lauder — Lucky cites the ’70s ads, right, for inspiring spring’s chiffon layers — the fact is, I’m a petite Heeb like Mrs. Lauder. And I hate chiffon. But this image is striking not only for its beauty and glamour, but also for how it points to everything wrong with the current crop of fashion ads. That someone at Lucky has the depth of the knowledge to cite it, leaves me impressed.

As for the girl at left, how much do you dig those bronze parachute pants? The problem with the ’80s originals was the sweatpant-like cut. But in a lean shape, they are sassy-sporty for day and very come-hither for night. Totally rad, dudettes.

Get your bids ready for next week’s auction of the collection of Yves Saint Laurent and Pierre Berge! Never, ever does such an idiosyncratic, fully realized assemblage of the creme de la creme come on the market. And in our current economic craphole, deals will abound. So start saving (or make a few calls to Visa). I’ve got my eye on a Leger, and some of the African stuff too. Bon chance! www.christies.com

A movie ad like this really makes you feel for an actress, especially an actress as hilarious as Isla Fisher, who pretty much stole all her scenes with Vince Vaughn in “Wedding Crashers.” Not only is the timing of a movie about shopaholism incredibly unfortunate, but the ad itself looks like nothing more than a rip-off of a red-carpet spread in Us. On the bright side, maybe she will start hijacking the runways with Bruno!