Meet Kevin "Aren't I Quizzical" Townley, an actor who just so happens to be featured in this week's edition of New York magazine's Look Book. Kevin's had his first big part — playing a young Eddie Izzard in My Super Ex-Girlfriend — but he's not really working right now, so instead he's taking a screenwriting class taught by Michael Showalter. Though, come to think of it, screenwriting is really hard, so Kevin might just wait until he gets another role. Oh, and as for his gentle bumblebee style, Kevin turns to fashion icon Diane Keaton for inspiration. Mmhm. Y'know, if we cared enough, we'd totally host an mp3 of what we imagine he sounds like. Because in our head, his voice is very specific, and very nasally.

Plenty (okay, two) of bloggers and journalists have accused the New York Times of not getting tech. Of course the Times gets tech — every thirty minutes from CNET — but some terribly untechy stuff gets lumped in with its mixture of consumer reviews and business news. For instance, the "Online Shopper" column by Michelle Slatella.

Today, inexplicably on its front page, the Wall Street Journal profiles "it girl" Genevieve Jones, a social climbing wunderkind who, without breeding or education, has firmly planted herself amongst Manhattan's socialites and fashionistas. Jones represents the sort of randomly fabulous party girl whose society presence makes her the ideal promotional tool for designers and flacks. Jones herself is famous for doing nothing, has an enviable apartment, is rumored to be supported by a wealthy ex-boyfriend and considers fellow climber Derek Blasberg, right, her "best friend" (how appropriate). A quick look at Jones' "portfolio" on Style.com reveals 11 images; in every picture, a self-satisfied smugness and eyes that scream of desperation.

On her way out, Winona Ryder stuffed two or three pieces from Marc Jacobs' new line into her purse.

May this forever more be remembered as the day men's magazines became just as bad as women's.

The beautiful, starving locusts of Fashion Week are descending upon us all, sucking the blood and vodka out of the city until nothing's left but a few ratty old tents and some empty bottles of champagne. The madness officially starts tomorrow, but last night Fashion Week Daily — the freebie fashion gossip publication that litters the front rows of practically every show — started things out with a soiree at Tenjune. The invite indicated that music would be provided by the MisShapes, obviously making this the sort of event worthy only of the lowest member on the company totem pole, new GawkSlave Stephanie. After the jump, she admits to destroying her camera because she was acting kinda slutty.

As anyone who has watched this season of Project Runway could tell you, Michael has been a pleasant change to the general HOMOgeneity of the previous casts. They have had strong black female presences in the past, and we're pretty sure Santino wishes he had some thug in him (take it however you want), but a straight black man? You cannot help but root for him. Your liberal guilt won't allow otherwise.

This week's Look Book is all about Lisa Mayock, a fashion designer who makes up one half of the Vena Cava label. You don't have to stare into her supercilious eyes for too long to realize she has already dumped you and moved on with someone wittier and better dressed. She is unimpressed with your McSweeney's and n+1 subscriptions, and anyone could wear that slimming thrift store suit over a homemade silk-screened Banksy tee. SNOOZE. Remember the part in Say Anything when Lili Taylor's character writes 65 songs about Joe? Well if that were real life, and Lili Taylor were a guy, then Joe would be Lisa Mayock.

Judging from the seemingly endless procession of well-endowed actresses showing off their assets at this year's Emmy ceremony, Hollywood's stylists came to the unanimous conclusion that the perfect way to accessorize a plunging neckline on an exquisitely tailored gown was with a huge pair of breasts. To celebrate the widespread adoption of this red-hot fashion trend, we've put together a short quiz to test your knowledge of the celebrity decolletage on display at last night's awards. Answers are after the jump:

Paging Steven Klein: New York mag and photographer Serge Leblon just looove your work! In their annual fashion issue (yes, we weighed it; came in at one very questionable pound), it would seem that a photo spread starring Rachel Weisz and Justin Theroux bears a flattering resemblance to Klein's now-infamous W portfolio starring Brangelina. New York's "interpretation" doesn't really hold half a candle to the original, but you can't fault a little girl for trying to dress like her mommy. In the end, this is just another innocent case of Mossappropriation, the sincerest form of flattery.

Despite having to admit that someone on staff was shopping at Forever 21, today the Sun discovers that the retail mecca of bargain skankwear has been printing scriptures on their bags. The one most commonly seen is John 3:16 ("For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life."), but we've found another one, special to Forever 21 shoppers:

We've no proof of this, but we bet Jarvis Wong, featured in this week's installment of New York mag's Look Book, lives in Brooklyn. The belt, the glasses, the iPod — just a hunch. He's an architect who considers himself an "urban nerd" and likes to dress as as minimal as he designs his buildings. Or something.

You see that? That's 28.5 POUNDS OF MAGAZINE. 28.5 lbs. is the ridiculous sum total of all our fall fashion magazine weigh-ins; the combined weight of these 13 glossies exceeds that of all the models who appear in them.

No. No. This is NOT the way to start our morning, our Thursgay Styles ritual interrupted by the jarring image of Princess Coldstare of MisShapes (Leigh Lezark) in a $9,190 fur vest. The article ostensibly is about fall's new chunky, layered looks; Lezark was one of three trendy ladies invited into Barneys to play dress up for the Times. She arrived with fellow MisShape Leotard Fantastic (who, not coincidentally, was in last Sunday's Styles holding a glass of rose-fucking-ay), deemed the clothes "too old," was indifferent to wearing anything on her bottom, and suggested chopping up a floor-length Marc Jacobs frock. And for this, she is fabulous, perched with socialites, compared to Edie Sedgwick, presented as the emo Jessica Joffe. But no matter how high Lezark's star may rise, remember: you knew her when she was just a girl with a vagina shirt and a dream.

GAWKED: OMG, have you seen that picture of Andrea Peyser with Boy George?
GAWKED: "I'm chasing a ROCK STAR. If I dress in denim and black shades, he'll think I'm one of them and open up to me!"
GAWKEDTOO: Hmm. She's rocking the denim cowgirl look.
GAWKEDTOO: But otherwise not terrible, to be honest.
GAWKED: I love the notepad. It screams "girl reporter." She's like a post-menopausal Brenda Starr.
GAWKEDTOO: The rolled up jeans are sporty and spunky. You can't fault her for that.
GAWKED: Her hatchet-faced scowl always did scream "practicality," I guess.

From the mailbag comes this adorable treat: Pierce Mattie PR sent along an invite for a fashion and beauty blogging roundtable, bringing together bloggers and the publicists who pitch them. Remember, kids — co-opting is fun!

Last night we took another trip to the newsstand to fetch more of the beastly September fashion glossies, but this time things were toned down a notch. Rather than haul another 9.5 pounds of aspirational crap, we went more towards the featherweights. Next round, we'll suck it up and grab the heavyweights like InStyle or the 650-page Vogue. And when we're all done? Just you wait. We're going to take all these fuckers and build ourselves a coffee table.

This week's installment of New York magazine's Look Book tackled 18 different tourists; overwhelmed by the slew of possibilities, we almost disregarded the LB altogether. But we could not shake the image of poor Nils Asmussen, a student from Hamburg, Germany. Just look at him. Don't you want to grab him, swaddle him, and nurse him towards American normalcy? We can't explain it, but he reminds us of a fuzzy baby duck.

What wonders occur at the doors of 4 Times Square? A spy reports on a magical, holiday moment from yesterday afternoon:

Last night we bought four of the glossies' September issues, those typically being the most behemoth of the year. Why only four? Because we had to walk a few blocks, and we could only carry four. Once the Bengay kicks in and we can use our biceps again, we'll grab another round of these bitches.