Today in the Paper of Record: a slideshow of fit, shirtless men. "Clickity click click click click." -Adolph S. Ochs.

Attention, men: "The twink thing seems over," declares GQ editor Jim Nelson in a New York Times article this weekend. That's right, it's time to ditch that slender, waif-like frame and pick up some biceps at the muscle store.

It's cute that Lorenzo Martone thinks there's life after Marc Jacobs (there isn't), but what we really took away from today's gushing NY Times profile is that Martone changed in front of the reporter. He always gets naked for press.

♦ Whitney Port's clothing line is now available! Needless to say, it's overpriced and underdesigned. [FabSugar]
♦ A juicy bit of gossip from Vivienne Westwood's Paris show last night: Kate Winslet is in the running to play the legendary designer in a Universal Pictures biopic. [SassyBella]
♦ Polygamist bouffants are now très chic, if we're to believe W and Vogue, which have the bizarre hairstyles on Linda Evangelista and Isabeli Fontana, respectively. But what's Tim Gunn going to say? [NYO]

We were going to hate on this prototypically obvious Thursgay Styles piece about how some women wear dresses even though shockingly unfeminine "trousers" are the next big thing (Katharine Hepburn could not be reached for comment) but we ended up being kinda charmed by it because basically it's Spring and it's getting nice out and Guy Trebay quotes that bit in Citizen Kane where Mr. Bernstein talks about the girl on the ferry. Are we going soft? If it helps, the piece on how men are wearing patterns that clash on purpose suitably annoyed us. Anyway: pants! On girls! That'll be the day! [NYT]

In our line of work, we're used to seeing tall black bearded ladyboy hustlers with long legs, big smiles and a penchant for self-promotion. But even in this hurlyburly rough and tumble world of free booze, those stupid VIP bracelet things that are a bitch to remove and burly doormen, Andre J stood out. His smile was the most radiant, his legs the longest and his ability to sell himself unparalleled. The first time we saw him, he was on a corner in Soho. New York's Amy LaRocca was all up in his shit. That led to his appearance in the Look Book, then the Look Book book. But the last time we saw him, he was working the door at some Save Darfur benefit Lydia Hearst threw and also skipped. Imagine our pleasure when we saw his face in the Sunday Styles and we learned he had made it. It was indescribable!

Guy Trebay's Times report from the frontlines of the new breed of depoliticized gay male art, which hinges on one show in Dumbo that features work like James Morrison's "Friendster Is Dead," is full of easy jokes for evil homophobes. For example: "'I adore Butt,' said Bruce Hainley, a critic and curator" (he refers to the magazine). And also, on magazines like Butt: "They are as solipsistic as a Rufus Wainwright lyric. They are as whimsical as one of the neo-hippie Devendra Banhart's tunes." But it's beneath us all to limit our enjoyment of this article to such superficialities. Let's look deeper and ask the tough questions. Such as: why does this article exist? Even by Styles's standards of newsworthiness—preppies like a clubby bar, Vogue controls socialites' lives— why do gay men making visual art merit mention? Does one show in Brooklyn even make for gay-dudes' art having an "efflorescence"—much less constitute a "moment"?

The 'Times' Styles section went the extra mile with what the paper's ethics guide calls "fanciful contrived situations." To illustrate Guy Trebay's piece on the state of gay PDA—the gays are anxious about making out in public! But where "were all the same-sex lovers making out on street corners" on Valentine's Day?—they hired two actor-model types to make out around Manhattan. Do gays exist? Also! Are Styles stories any more true if the people they're about are real?

Just under a week.

The NYT's Guy Trebay writes, "After years of bad gags about black being the new black, the streets are unexpectedly populated with people wearing trippy stripes, flowered graphics or clothes the colors of Bazooka or the walls of the playhouse where Pee-wee Herman held court." An unofficial poll indicates that this spring color trend hasn't reached the East Village yet. I see black, black, and more black. (Right, Claire Danes publicly demonstrating why Zac Posen is an overrated designer. I used to scribble on my mother's bedsheets, too, but I was five at the time.)
For Spring, color is the new black [NYT]

The NYT's Guy Trebay says models with non-descript looks are extremely trendy now. "Exotic" is sooooo over, baby. He blames the economy. "In leaner times, beauty, too, gets pared down. 'These things come in cycles,' said Alex de Betak, the director of Bureau Betak, one of the premier fashion show production houses. 'It's a trend like every other trend.'"
Strutting down the runway with a severe case of the blahs [NYT]

Dear Howell,

So I hear you're letting that jackass Hamilton write an article about how to throw a cocktail party in that appalling rathole he refers to as his "apartment." I also hear that you're paying for the party as well as the book he's using to plan it—Cocktails With a Twist or something like that.