In the grand tradition of the Fauxteur Fashion Minute, in which our readers offhandedly critique the sartorial shortcomings of some of the entertainment industry's hackiest directors, comes today's premiere installment of the Former Studio Head FashionWatch, in which the Defamer Special Correspondent on Retired Executive Outerwear offers ideas on how Paramount living legend Sherry Lansing and filmmaker husband William Friedkin might spice up their wardrobes:

Do you recognize this woman? Yep, she's the ho who cut you off as you were exiting Barneys — she just breezed right through you, knocking down your broke ass as she hopped into her chauffered luxury SUV. She is better than you, more worthy of New York's Look Book than you'll ever be. Other, less relevant details: her name is Joanne Prager and she's a mother of four who lives in Soho. Her husband buys her clothes, her driver keeps things cozy, and her kids attend "more-traditional schools uptown." None of the hippy boho chic education downtown, not for her little babies! Sigh. Don't we all know a Joanne Prager?

As the rain ceases and the clouds clear the sky, it's time for Blue States Lose, wherein we selflessly sift through fucktard photos on The Cobrasnake, Last Night’s Party, Misshapes, and Ambrel. After the jump, Joey Arak shows you his armpit piercings.

We mentioned earlier that 4% Famous author Deborah Schoeneman has been doing book signings in DKNY stores nationwide, as reported in USA Today. "For me, it's great exposure," Schoeneman told the paper. Oh, is it? Shortly after that post went up, a New York media type on vacation in Southern California emailed in this anecdote:

USA Today has a mini-article (actually, aren't all of their articles kind of mini?) on the growing trend of book signings being held in retail spaces:

Page Six reports today that at Monday night's CFDA awards, Lindsay Lohan got up to use the bathroom six times in a mere two hours. Unfortunately, Lohan was sitting at HRH Anna Wintour's table, and everyone knows how Anna prefers that her guests remain very, very still. Wintour reportedly told a staffer, "Tell her, if she gets up one more time, she will never be invited to one of my events again," and then asked Lohan's walker, Karl Lagerfeld, to "control" the young star's behavior.

Shit. We can't make fun of this week's Look Book. We just can't. He's just too adorable! God, we miss our grandpa, we really should give him a call...

Those fashionistas sure are wily, scheduling their big fancy party the day before 6/6/06 — as if missing satan's spring break by a mere day is going to hide the pure, svelte evil of the Council of Fashion Designers of America awards. But we weren't fooled: the devil's hand was everywhere, from Janet Jackson's ersatz breasts to Glenda Bailey's terrifying decolletage; even Jessica Simpson was more whorish than usual. On the bright side, angelic Tommy Hilfiger has a sense of humor.

• For those of you who think Gawker hates everything, we present the picture at right. As of this moment, we fucking love it more than anything in our otherwise empty lives. The nipple-grazing waistband, the faint suggestion of his package, snug like an Almond Joy... Yes, Matt Lauer, you have made our day. God bless. [The Daily]
• Heather Mills. Hardcore German porn. We've no idea where to even begin with this. [Sun UK]
• It's Gawker Stalker for the Sperry Topsider set: Yachtspotter, with which users track the locations of the world's most ostentatious, luxury battleships. Go forth and find thee a Diddy. [Yachtspotter]
• In other stalking news, there's great development for those obsessives who prefer to use MySpace to stalk the object of their desire. SingleStat.us notifies you when your crush's relationship status goes to single. 14-year-olds the world over rejoice. [TechCrunch]
• A groom from the Observer's Bridal Blog learns that newlyweds are not celebrities, and therefore they shall not receive swag. [NPR]
• Gay Pride comes to Queens, and the queens do celebrate. It's a modest parade, sadly, with no spectacular asscheeks to speak of. [Manhattan Offender]

It's a shame that New York magazine doesn't ever put together some sort of panel discussion amongst its Look Book folk; if they did, we'd totally buy a ticket, sit in the front row, and throw feces-filled Balenciaga knock-offs at the young lady at right. 19-year-old Elizabeth Beare is a student at Boston University, but she hates how students wear sweatpants and, like, study and stuff. Lizzie prefers shopping — every day is an occasion for her to bust out the Marc Jacobs sunglasses and nautical tank top, and maybe hit Bergdorf for a new outfit to wear out to Double Seven that night. She's a child of the city, the spawn of Jeffrey and Intermix, and the girl is long overdue for her David Amsden profile.

Poor Emma Brockes of the Guardian had the unenviable task of spending some quality time with Vogue editor Anna Wintour. Luckily for everyone, the occasion was not the release of The Devil Wears Prada but, rather, Wintour's annual Super Sweet 16 party, the Met Costume Institute Ball. After interviewing Wintour in her office and learning that Vogue may actually include pictures of fat people (no doubt for a shock-yourself-thin feature on obesity), Brockes accompanied Wintour to the Met, pre-gala, for one last interview opportunity. Their final interaction:

There's only one thing you hate more than being chained to your computer on the world's longest Friday, and that's dumbfuck hipsters posing like they're Gia incarnate. Lucky for you, it's time for Blue States Lose, wherein we drag our feet through photos of the fucked-up and fabulous children of The Cobrasnake, Last Night’s Party, Misshapes, and Ambrel so you won't have to. After the jump, Joey Arak makes the Star Room look downright attractive.

In New York mag's latest Look Book, we're served a helping of Sunhwa Chung, an East Village choreographer who believes that in getting dressed, one needs freedom to express the passion of transforming one's body. This, she says, can be found at a Korean H&M-type store.

• After serving five days in jail rather than do community service for drunk driving in Honolulu, Michelle Rodriguez has been sentenced to 60 days for violating parole on a previous drunk driving incident in LA. She's also been ordered to rehab and must serve 30 days of community service. Clearly, the law is no fan of the way things have been going on Lost. [TMZ]
• Bad news for Brooklyn: Michelle Williams' father, Larry Williams, is in jail on tax evasion charges and stands accused of hiding $1.5 million from Uncle Sam. Which is exactly how he became a financial guru. [Page Six]
• Paris Hilton plays an angry voicemail from Lindsay Lohan for a group of friends, then calls her a cunt." We believe the correct term is firecrotch. [R&M (last item)]
• The ballad of Axl and Tommy continues: while the official line is that Hilfiger punched Axl Rose after Rose moved his drink (presumably so that Rose could take his table), Hilfiger's rage may be heightened by the fact that Rose is dating Diane O'Connor, the ex-wife of Hilfiger's adopted brother, Michael H. [Page Six]
• Namibians want to declare a national holiday on the day that Angelina Jolie gives birth. [MSNBC]
• Socialite Tory Burch's clothing line isn't selling, despite an Oprah endorsement in 2004. Will O save face by frying Burch on an upcoming episode? [Lowdown]

Flipping idly through the current, Christina Aguilera issue of GQ and landing on, say, page 56 prompts a deep philosophical question. Is a lush, two-page spread on the stylish choices in dog collars ("If your dog is rough around the edges like this boxer, refine his look with stripes") a sign of overwhelming, late-Rome decadence? Or is it simply more proof that, yes, GQ is the gayest magazine in existence?

As we were flipping through Saturday's Times Business section, we realized that it had been quite a week for the paper of record:

Grab your PDA and chuck it at your nearest co-worker, because it's supermodel Naomi Campbell's 36th birthday! The violent beauty kicked off her celebration yesterday in Dubai, where's she's rented 18 floors of the Burj Al Arab. The party is being hosted by boyfriend Badr Jafar and will last three days; yesterday's theme was all white, tonight's is hip-hop, and tomorrow will be "Brazilian Samba." The guestlist reportedly includes Linda Evangelista, Eva Herzigova, and David and Victoria Beckham — all of whom would rather trek to the sweltering middle east than be on Naomi's bad side.

It's not a coincidence that the clouds above Manhattan just parted, because it's time for Blue States Lose. You know the routine: we don safety goggles and sift through photos of the fucked-up hipsters at The Cobrasnake, Last Night’s Party, Misshapes, and Ambrel so you won't have to. After the jump, Joey Arak lets Merlin take pictures of his new boy-cut panties.

In the wake of television upfronts and the wave of small screen stars brought with it, Lucky magazine has a special treat for us all: a video of the swaggy joy within its overly heralded gift suite, where celebrities like Mischa Barton (who likes "skinny jeans and street style"), Jamie-Lynn Sigler, and Felicity Huffman (we expected better of her, honestly) score more free shit than a springtime dog run.

In 2005, former Observer wretch Jessica Joffe, having bleached away her ink stains, was one of Vogue's best-dressed, pictured prancing about all the right parties wearing all the right designers. In early 2006, she was named one of Paper mag's most beautiful people, a Burberry-clad beacon of class amidst the celebuspawn and Misshapes. And now, The Daily announces that the original firecrotch will be one of the five faces of Banana Republic's new fragrance collection, Discover. There are five scents in the collection, and Joffe will represent Jade, a "floral-fruity mixture of tropical grenade, musky cotton flower, and Kashmir wood." Alas, we'll have to wait until fall to find out more about Joffe's musky cotton flower — but we're guessing it smells like the mall.