This is the time of year where all publications patch the vacation news-lull with "Best of" and "Top" lists slapped together by hungover, jetlagged writers with stale cookie crumbs in their laptops. In the realm of style, the focus is settling on designer TV cameos, model demographics and "going green."The operator of this cookie-encrusted keyboard is going in a different direction. I'm broke, cynical and my social relevance is only signaled by the scrap of regard 22 year old cokeheads give me on the rare occasions I exit the house in something other than pajama pants covered in cat hair. Things like Tom Ford's naked ass in Out Magazine do not register in my retrospective.
Over the next few days you'll see what did.
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