Recently in Aesthetic Appearances Category

Call me a luddite, but sometimes I simply don't get men's high fashion. Take, for example, this strange piece profiled in The New York Times. It's from Alexander McQueen, and while I appreciate that it's more of an avant garde look aimed at influencing the market more than dominating it, I still can't help thinking that most men wouldn't be caught dead in what amounts to be a feathered, pseudo-sequined tube top. Or would they?

After the jump, some artistic projections on who might adopt the new look.

Fashion Week in Los Angeles wrapped up about a week ago, and while I didn't get to hobnob with the trendy elite at Smashbox Studios (home to most of the big fashion shows in the city), I did head over to the BOXeight warehouse to check out a smaller runway show. To be honest, this was the first real fashion show I'd ever been to. Shocking, right? You'd think with my cutting edge Gap wardrobe that I'd have my finger firmly on the pulse of this world, but I regret to inform you that I am woefully disconnected from most sartorially-tinged extravaganzas.

Anyway, there weren't really any stories from the fashion show, but I brought my camera anyway, hoping that maybe there'd be an errant Project Runway star flitting about (there weren't). I did have three D-list sightings though. You'll be very impressed, I'm sure.

Back in December, I decided that one way to save money would be to cease all haircuts until the strike ended. Well, now it's over, and I've decided to extend my moratorium until I receive my next paycheck, which could be who knows when. While the inner-pride I maintain in the face of such an ascetic lifestyle is a neat perk, the truth of the matter is that my hair is rapidly becoming more and more unwieldy with each passing day. It seems to be speeding through any "birds nest" sort of stage and heading directly for "voluminous tragedy," although, to be fair, it's really not that out of control just yet. Plus, the good news is that if my will-power remains strong, there's an outside chance that the hair could grow out of its awkward phase and into a luscious mane of black wonder, but I tend to think "greasy Antonio Banderas disaster" might be a more realistic outcome. Nevertheless, I'm slowly learning how to deal with the expanding beast on my head, and after the jump, I've included some photos that detail this daily, self-imposed battle.