Just because I want to burn all my freelance bridges before I leave Gawker tomorrow, I have to publish this internal email detailing the photo styling for the New York mag photoshoot on the Republican Convention protestors and conventioneers. The best part? The Republican Convention attendee should have big hair, but "but not over the top ugly." Heh. True — we'd forgotten that our City was about to be menaced by an epidemic of Texas hair during the convention. The memo follows.

In today s Data Dump: you might be a stunning fashionista, but are you helping America? No, you might be helping China! And, we hate China! But we like pretty clothes! Gah, we re so conflicted. More after the jump.

At long last, pictures of the Vogue magazine league soccer team's shirts, mentioned last week in Page Six. We could cry with happiness!

Don't ever let it be said that we at Gawker don't fucking love our readers to death — because we do. Where else would get totally random bits such as this:

We thought we couldn't imagine anything more horrifying than physical exercise — but add glossy Vogue-ette stick figures, and you've got a winner. Page Six reports on the magazine league soccer match-up of Vogue versus Real Simple:

As the heinous Ugg boot trend drifts past New York and settles in over Los Angeles (ah, LA, to always be nine months behind the ill tide of bad fashion!), the oh-so-wrong boot phenomenon reinvents itself here in cowboy boot form. An angry reader writes with a PSA:

We wanted to prove to the PR people of Manhattan that we'll go to fucking anything. Now, we have. In this scantily-clad edition, our special correspondents Grellan and Doug venture far beyond the D List and into the nearly nude hipster party for Puma Panties at Ruby Falls. Inside they find dangerous amounts of booze, Lycra... and interns.

The boys at The Smoking Gun were kind enough to dig up this never-before-seen mugshot of incarcerated club kid and former "it" boy Michael Alig, taken not too long after he was welcomed into the loving arms of the Department of Corrections. We like him in this sort of minimalist Berlin leatherboy/hipster look — the clown makeup, platform shoes, and pom poms were always a bit much for us.

Related: Michael Alig and The Club Kids [WoW]

Early today we speculated on schwangosity of shoe designer Holly Dunlap. Who is this mysterious semi-"it" girl? Says a fashionista, "she's a rich debutante girl from arizona who is a shoe designer and owns "hollywould," a shoe company that has stores in nolita and miami beach." Oh, of course she is!

There was some sort of Gillette-sponsored leg-judging competition in Times Square last week that we missed, thankfully. The New York Times' Boldfaced Names was on hand, of course, to interview fierce leg-competitors Hilary and Haylie Duff. Which Duff is which? Aww, who cares?

Whether or not boy-band boy-toy Nick Carter beat Paris Hilton like a stick-figure pinata, leaving bruises up and down her arms (warning: unsourced/undated photographs), she still managed to fly in from LA for the Bridgehampton Polo Club on Saturday and her mother's yard sale on Sunday. During half-time at the polo game, Paris and sister Nicky even cleaned up the field themselves, according to our phonecam-toting spy, who reports the following dialogue:

Designer/model/bling enthusiast Kimora Lee Simmons — who was arrested on Sunday for pretty much everything you can do wrong in a car — today has the honor of her mugshot appearing on The Smoking Gun. Best of all? What's that around her wrist? A retarded piece of red Kabbalah anti-evil-eye string? Yeah, that went well.

For our ongoing examination of how the other 1/10th lives, photographer Eliot Shepard and Staff Drinker Andrew Krucoff weaseled their way into designer Diane von Furstenberg's studio the other night for a party in honor of a magazine we'd never heard of — aRude, published by the conceptual photographer Ike Ude.

We've been ignoring the day's biggest fake news: permanently leather-clad designer Donatella Versace has indeed checked herself into rehab, claiming an addiction to cocaine. WE'RE SO BORED OF REHABS! Why can't famous people just fucking do drugs and fall down like the rest of us? This parade of drug-addled dipshittery and PR-related "recovery" is ridiculous!

In today's Rush & Molloy, the gossipers try to explicate the arrest of designer Kimora Lee Simmons this weekend. Kimora was handcuffed and booked on Sunday night in New Jersey: the charges were reckless driving and "possessing marijuana."

Gawker Intern Neel is up at the Democratic convention in Boston, doing some coverage for a real publication. I told him we didn't give a crap about the convention, but that if he had any news about the important stuff (1. what people are wearing, 2. who people are screwing) to pass it our way. But evidently, Boston isn't like one big carpet — you can't just yell out "Senator Clinton, who are you wearing?" up there. Neel's disastrous first report follows.

Guess what? A model agent, Ivan Bart, has predicted "A return to glamour!" for the fall season. The next person who utters this horrid phrase is gonna get his pants ripped off and tossed into Tom Ford's cage. Or worse, forced to spend a night with Allure editor Linda Wells, who confesses to the NYT: "We're tired of seeing models who don't inspire some kind of longing. We just want to be seduced again by a more conventional type of beauty." Oh yeah, we sure are, sugar. Fucking ugly models. Kill 'em!
Welcome Back, Beauty [LA Comfidential]
Related:
Fall 2002, Milan and Paris: a return to glamour!
Armani's 2004 forecast: a return to glamour!
Richard Tyler, Delta Airlines, Feb. 2004: a return to glamour!
Stephanie Chen, Debenhams design director, 2003: a return to glamour!

Last night Target threw open the doors at its new Brooklyn outpost, with a common goal: to show us the definition of "they'd go to the opening of an envelope." Our staff photographer, Eliot Shepard, was there.

Ah ha! The bumped Guy Trebay piece on untucked shirts that we were all desperately waiting for is out. And the verdict is in: the untucked shirt is the stupidest manufactured/maladopted "style trend" ever — particularly when coupled with the unbuttoned suit jacket.

We've been missing out on the Color Marketing Group's chosen fashion colors for 2004! (Yes, non-fashionistas, a group of freaks, err, executives get together and pick colors from their opium-induced dreams and foist them on design and fashion industries.) Apparently, this is what you were supposed to be wearing this summer: