In the circle of life that is the fashion industry, everyone knows that nothing ever really goes "out" forever. It just gets recycled years later, much more expensively, and everyone who had the foresight to hold on to their ratty leopard print jacket or trapeze dress from the first time around congratulates themselves. We do not know how we feel about the return of Doc Martens. Our first time around (for their second time), we were young and impressionable and listening to that "grunge music"! And now, we have learned, someone has decided that they are back, for real.

Boston is trying to become fashionable! (Have they been speaking with noted Boston fashion maven and Times CEO Janet Robinson?) Boston Fashion Week "serves as a platform for both established industry professionals and aspiring newcomers to showcase the great wealth of local talent," according to the event's frame-happy website. Except there's one little problem, as a reader points out: "It's being held, oops, at the same time as New York Fashion Week. Which means that none of Boston's most important buyers, editors, or fashion advertisers will even be in town. And which means that the rest of the world won't be paying attention anyway." Aw, Boston. That whole thinking you're the Hub of the universe thing might be backfiring.

New York Times Critical Shopper stand-in Cintra Wilson takes a look at Phi, the Soho clothier that "showcases the artistry of the meticulously trained Norwegian designer Andreas Melbostad." Then it gets less penetrable: A reader dared us to translate the piece's most harrowing paragraph.

We recently asked if Marc Jacobs had gotten a new gayface installed. But apparently, he had a whole new gaybod put in! Says the designer to the September issue of homosexual mouthpiece Out, on which he appears nekked: "You're going to get a bunch of blogs saying 'He must be on meth in order to be that skinny compared to 10 months ago,' but in fact I'm eating a totally organic diet, which has no flour, no sugar, no dairy, and no caffeine, and I lost weight because of that diet and because of a 2-hour exercise regime seven days a week." Also: "Right now I can't even imagine being attracted to someone who isn't in a healthy place on all levels. So I have to not be in the healthiest place in order to be attracted to someone like that." You know what? Gag. We're glad he's not a junkie whore, sure. Mazel tov. But the all-okra diet and talking about feeeeelings all day? Jesus, Marc. What man would want you now?

FROM THE DESK OF MEGAN MCCARTHY — Patricia at StyleDiary posted what I can only pray is a mocking gallery of guys from last week's TechCrunch party. On full display, that most heinous Valley fashion staple — party guests in blue shirts. For the love of Jobs, can this trend die? I understand, the blue shirt is the easy choice for tech meet and greets — that's the point. You think it's safe, so you wear it again. And again. And again. You're trying to just seem like a regular tech guy, I know — but all it does is mark you out as yet another crowd-following Silicon Valley tool. Admit it: You put this shirt away in 2001, after the market crashed, and just dusted it off for this go-round, didn't you?

The Observer catches up with '80s jeans designer François Girbaud—remember, he was the one who had the clever idea of putting his little label on the zipper flap of his jeans, so everyone was always looking at your crotch? Like Z. Cavaricci! And that jingle from their commercials? God, get it out of my head, please!—who is apparently trying to make some sort of comeback. Well, sort of. See, he's already had a bit of a comeback in the last few years, but it was with the wrong kind of people. The black kind.

D. D. Ryan, of fashion-world fame and Harpers Bazaar, passed away this morning. [Michael Gross]

If Mark Zuckerberg is the new Steve Jobs (hint: yes), then the Facebook creator's Adidas flip-flops are the heir to the Apple founder's black turtleneck. Nearly every news item about the 23-year-old fratrepreneur mentions (among other signs of youth) the black and white sandals, which Mark wears with every outfit. The Globe and Mail barely avoided predicting he'd wear them to the mogul summer camp soon taking place in Sun Valley. (Answer: he's not going.) But we've heard bad news about Mark's favorite sandals: they're getting discontinued. Here's a photographic retrospective on the love between a boy and his flip-flops.

Earlier today, we heard that the only people crying when Jane folded were the two interns who were being filmed for a show on the SoapNet channel. Too bad the impending fame of television couldn't save the magazine! (Didn't Teen Vogue's circulation jump after The Hills? Then again, SoapNet is hardly MTV.) Anyway! The Fashionista Diaries starts August 1, and if this preview is any indication, it's probably no surprise that Condé Nast execs weren't banking on the show for any circ increases. "Your jobs are going to require a lot of schlepping," former Jane editor Stephanie Trong says in her best Miranda Priestley imitation. Ooh, scary!

We shop at the Gap and splurge at Banana Republic [Ed. Note: Umm, speak for yourself, straight man], so we are the last people in the world to judge anyone else's fashion choices. But whatever this new "inster" trend is, we are not having it.

Live from the pages of The Underminer: The Best Friend Who Casually Destroys Your Life, we invited everyone's favorite frenemy to chime in from time to time on various hot topics. That's right, The Underminer has a Gawker column now. But keep trying! You'll get one someday! You trouper!

"As documents of sheer snotty bitchery go, it belongs in a hall of fame alongside... umm... Socrates'rebuke of Alcibiades in the Symposium," we said the other day of KCD publicist Bonnie Morrison's email to Coutorture blogger Julie Fredrickson, who'd complained that her inability to purchase a ticket to Monday's CFDA gala constituted a "pay for play" scenario. But was Bonnie actually being a bitch? Also, do we actually know what our own classical allusions mean? According to Fashionista's Faran Krentcil, the answer to at least one of these questions is a resounding "no."

From Mediabistro's Revolving Door:

"Which designer is the subject of rumors within his own company that his latest stint in rehab was just a cover while he healed from cosmetic surgery?," asks Ben Widdicombe today. Huh, well, Marc Jacobs has been looking fresher and tanner and gayer of late, but also less drug-addled. And have we really reached the point where a drug relapse is less embarrassing than a face-remodeling? Also, maybe the answer is "both?"

A few months ago, the Times decided to ramp up some of their more lucrative "verticals" on their website—including Fashion and Style. They had lots of ideas, which they put on the company wiki for everyone to read and comment on. But did all of their plans come to fruition? Well, let's just say we were spared the disaster that inevitably would have been an Alex Kuczynski blog. The wiki, and what really happened, follow.

The Vanessa Grigoriadis profile of Tom Ford runs at last in today's New York mag. "At 45, Ford is still the only handsome male fashion designer," she writes. (Ahem, Alexander McQueen!) Apart from that, there's not a shred of bitchiness. Says Tom Ford: "I know my value as a product, and I've divorced myself as a human from myself as a product." Also he has a Scottish butler named Angus, lives in the Carlyle Hotel in New York, and has two fox terriers. (Not mentioned in the profile, but, by his report, he really is monogamous with his gay homosexual lover, something we've always found both frustrating and informative.) He knows he's selling lifestyle: "We are running a business that's not for everyone, and I'm not trying to be an asshole, but some people can't afford it and maybe there is a sort of resentment about that." Weirdest of all, she opens the piece by talking extensively about seeing his, uh, unit—but then never tells us about it. Who knew Vanessa was a total cocktease?

Hold on to your pomade, the Islamofascists are coming! The ever-strengthening case for war against Iran became nigh-airtight this morning with the Wall Street Journal's front- page story detailing the Islamic Republic's latest assault on freedom. Religious police, reports Andrew Higgins, are cracking down with unprecedented brutality, denying Iranian citizens even such basic human rights as coiffure choice and manscape self-determination:

Radar has enticed a "well-placed spy on the A-list" to file the occasional, anonymous dispatch detailing the cartoonish (but, sadly, all too factual) superficiality of our fair city, and while their embedded cultural reporter's initial installment offers nothing more surprising than the revelation that low-level celebrities can be found partying in the homes of unknown hosts who are annoyingly anal about their expensive hardwood floors, we are provided a fascinating glimpse into the world of high-level agent footwear. Names are named!

It may be impolite and insensitive to probe the arts-and-leisure scene in war-torn Iraq, but there's no reason to think that the other segments of the Axis of Evil can't play the frivolous-amusements game with the best of 'em. Not only does suave sex kitten Mahmoud Ahmadinejad maintain a blog (infrequently updated but RSS-equipped); the Democratic People's Republic of Korea—"North Korea" to the capitalist running dogs—runs a charmingly Web 1.0 official news site off a Japanese server. And it even updates on the weekends!

Doing anything tomorrow at 9 a.m.? Perhaps you'd like to swing over to Hudson Studios, where a tipster reports Paris Hilton will be in attendance for a Vanity Fair photo shoot. Of course, this raises an important question: Does this signal some sort of weird Paris Hilton comeback? Is she remaking herself per Graydon Carter's specifications? Oh, also, we hear that the clothes include Marc Jacobs, Hudson, Louis Vuitton, and Chanel. And what do they look like? "Like ugly shit. Like little girl, cutesy stuff." Okay then! Maybe Paris won't be presenting a new image after all.