Happy news for fellas who just like to lay back with a cold one and soak up the rays: Stoner romantic comedy actor Matthew McConaughey is launching his own clothing line, called j.k. livin [Us]. The "j.k." stands for "just keep," and the "livin" stands for the recognition that stressing out over things like grammar can totally kill the leisurely pace at which life should be enjoyed. So far it looks like the line just features a half ass t-shirt, but hey, why worry? In a complementary move, McConaughey's girlfriend, Brazilian model Camila Alves, has launched her own line of astoundingly pricey handbags. Together, these items will bring the pleasures of Hollywood to you, the consumer. Photos of her $1,350 monstrosities, and her man's halfhearted t-shirt/ wristband set, after the jump.

For some reason, Jeremy Piven and other Entourage people were hanging out last night at a party for Microsoft's new Office Live Workspace product. A CNET reporter went "hoping to find some people willing to talk about whether Office Live Workspace really is a formidable answer to the Google Docs that I've found myself using pretty frequently," but instead found a bunch of models there. Way to screw up a good Microsoft gathering, Jeremy Piven. [CNET]

The Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue is not some sort of purist literature product, but it is a sacred institution in the American magazine industry. Not only do its covers help us predict economic trends, they're also the traditional measuring stick for the evolving standards of mainstream white-bread attractiveness. So while we can forgive the cheesy Will Ferrell tie-ins this year as a ploy to bump circulation (SI was up less than 1% in the latest numbers; Playboy plunged 10%, though, which should tell them something), what has us worried is the fact that SI is now just recycling the exact same cover shot it had eight years ago. Here's how short men's memories are when it comes to the "topless model whose supple breasts are barely covered with strings of beads" dynamic:

The male model of today is either an "urchin, a wraith, or an underfed runt," explains the NYT Styles. At recent European shows, even jaded fashion industry people were "flabbergasted by the sheer quantity of guys who looked chicken-chested, hollow-cheeked and undernourished."

When fleshier, more ordinary-looking models flood into New York for Fashion Week on Friday, you can thank bloggers for all the unconventional faces. A notoriously ugly group themselves, bloggers have begun selling photos of other homely types to brands like Converse, Lycra and Ben Sherman, and now the rest of the fashion industry supposedly wants to move beyond cookie-cutter notions of hot, according to Newsweek. We'll see — the eating-disorder-plagued industry has been loudly promising reform for more than a year now, and as the following sampler shows, some of these "real people" just look like models with glasses on. Click to meet the new faces of fashion.

Elyse Sewell, the beat-up ex-girlfriend of the indie-band Shins keyboard player (and former America's Next Top Model contestant!), had to go to court today. "Soon I will find out whether I will be prosecuted or the District Attorney will drop the felony charges," she Livejournals. (She bit the keyboardist in self-defense). She posted a photo of herself standing outside a skeezy motel room, lookin' adorably waifish, yet appropriately demure, in a long black skirt, royal-blue mini-jacket, and T-strap shoes. Tyra would definitely approve! Her verdict, and her wide-eyed shock that her public Livejournal is "tabloid fodder," follows.

Keyboardist Marty Crandall of the Shins (their latest album is titled Wincing the Night Away!) was arrested for allegedly pounding on his model girlfriend. The victim—Elyse Sewell, who was on the first season of America's Next Top Model, has a Livejournal, in which she explains that dude got drunk in a Sacramento hotel room and hit her. She quickly locked the entry, but she says she'll unlock it after court date. Pitchfork posted the entirety of the entry before lockdown:

Do you ever wonder if that homeless guy in that MTA ad that says, "Give to the homeless. Just not here," is really homeless or is he some disheveled sad-looking old man playing the part? Turns out, the answer could be both. Welcome to the world of real-person modeling, where sad-looking old men are the next Giseles. In this week's (strangely alluring!) Times Style section, Bernice Yeung took a look at Ugly NY, a real-people modeling agency. Guess who's a model? Frightening concoction Amanda Lepore! A night technical director at Fox TV! A woman named Messy Stench and some really really ugly dudes. And guess where Ugly NY founder scouts for new talent? On the uptown-bound No. 1 train—the ugliest line in all of the transit system!

Today's Page Six asks: "WHICH designer who's gone 'round and 'round the revolving rehab door gets his fix from a model—who's been in rehab herself, though for a different problem?" Um, we spent like an hour working on a poll for this but all the answers had poor Marc Jacobs in them so we didn't bother? (Despite this AP photo from the other night, and despite the coverline of this 2002 issue of Women's Day ("Tragic Linda Evangelista In Rehab"), we're pretty sure the god-like Linda Evangelista never actually did.) So?

Apparently there's a television show on VH1 called America's Most Smartest Model in which a group of models live together and strive to perform basic tasks like eating and exercising and trying not to sexually assault each other. The winner receives $100,000 and the title "America's Most Smartest Model." For one of the contestants, a Russian named Andre Birleanu, the eating and exercising were fine, but that last part he had some trouble with.

While American Vogue came up with exactly zero black women in fashion editorial in their October issue, at least Italian Vogue did better in September—they had one! Just one. Except turns out she wasn't a model, as the New York Times assumed.

"I will be the first to say that I have had a charmed life. I get to travel to places and have adventures that most people don't. I get to design handbags and walk runways. So why not write about it?" asks 21-year-old William Randolph Hearst estate heiress and Heatherette muse Lydia Hearst. Well! Because you're not a writer? Though we suppose that has never stopped anyone before. Also, Lydia has some unexpected pearls of actual wisdom to disperse. Unsurprisingly, though, they are set into the same Page Six Magazine column-jewel as several totally Kenneth Jay Lane fake pearls of complete and utter retardation. Which is which is for you to decide.

Second acts are hard, and who knows the cruelty of aging out of a profession better than a model? The day eventually comes when each fashion industry worker must ask himself, what color is my parachute? Some will answer: It is steel-colored! But "slashing" as a career, as one ex-model has just discovered, doesn't pay that well—and it upsets the tabloids.

Dude, check out this chick! Pretty hot, right? Well, guess what? You're a fucking pervert! This is 12-year-old Maddison Gabriel, an Australian model who has caused something of a controversy in her native country after being chosen as the official ambassador of Gold Coast Fashion Week in Australia. Britain's Daily Mail and John Howard, the Prime Minister of Convict Island, are fulminating, but young Maddison (uh, WTF Australia?) is unbowed. "I believe that I can fit into women's clothes. I can model women's clothes, so I should be able to do it," she says. And who are we to disagree? We just hope she's shaved down under. Or, you know, hasn't started growing hair there yet.

The Observer's Spencer Morgan is being mocked by New York mag's Daily Intel today for his investigative thinkpiece on visiting a model apartment ("No, we're girls, we are not talking about politics. Sometimes we talk about shows we have done. Every morning, we talk about what clothes to put on"). Those New Yorkers even accuse him of committing "that most basic of all Fashion Week fouls—farting in a room full of models." But! "I did NOT fart," Spencer tell us. "You weren't meant to infer that they were 'giddily discussing my charms,' as they all ditched me in the living room. The farting allegation is as ludicrous as the allegation that I am an aspiring rake, as I have NEVER farted. My guess is after two hours of answering questions and being tape recorded, they had had enough."

Model, faux socialite, authoress, Ryan Adams enthusiast and tart Kraut Jessica Joffe has a doppelganger. A Joffeganger! A DoppelJoffe! A fetch! GOTT IN HIMMEL. Fashion week will be tricky! [Fashionista]

It's bikini season! And Agyness Deyn, this month's UK Vogue covergirl who is pretty much America's real-life next top model even though she is British, is celebrating by eating just like a normal person. Well, a normal British person, but still. In the past week, she has consumed cheese and ham dumplings, beans on toast, sushi, pizza, a Cobb salad, pancakes with scrambled eggs, vegan strawberry-cheesecake ice cream, and a roast dinner that included "Yorkshire pudding, roast beef, vegetables, stuffing, gravy, and roast potatoes." So maybe you have that muffintop because there isn't enough beef dripping in your diet?

Fashion photographer Sante D'Orazio looks a lot like a late-in-life Dustin Hoffman all kitted out as a 70s Miami hustler. The buttons on his shirt rarely make it north of his solar plexus. And yet, he is almost always surrounded by naked models. His latest book, KatLick School, came out with its own party late last year. On Saturday night, at the just-opened second floor lounge of the Bowery Hotel, Sante's KatLick exhibition at the Stellan Holm Gallery was toasted. This kind of thing could go on forever, the book, the gallery show, the video game, the sudoku book. That the world likes to look at naked women isn't a secret, but it is Sante's secret to success. We brought our tape recorder to make this into an art project!

"Hey, look what just dropped out of my vagina!"

Are people who don't quite look like us as talented? As pretty? As interesting? Perfect questions for some weekend rumination, and today's Times Sunday Styles doesn't disappoint. The lead story, "Trying to Crack The Hot 100" asks the eternal question of why there aren't more Asians in American pop music. Probably, it's racism! But wait—it turns out America is right to rebuff the would-be star Asians, because Asian faces are so totally last year.