Oh spare me dot com

As print media continues its agonizing shuffle down the green mile, online magazines have been popping up faster than Tiger Woods' mistresses. And while those of us who work in the industry are grateful that the web can provide a sufficient afterlife, there's no doubt that we are dealing with a different beast. For starters, we'd might as well start eulogizing the feature story because most people aren't going to put the time into reading a 1500-word treatise on the floral print on their computer or iPhone or Kindle or whatever other crazy contraption they're using today to read Perez. Furthermore, online fashion magazines have pretty well put to rest the traditional editorial shoot and birthed the celebrity Today I'm Wearing column to replace it. Alexa Chung, Olivia Palermo, Daisy Lowe and Daisy de Villeneuve, to name a few, have all enriched our lives with a daily photo and rundown of their outfits that reads like an early Tom Wolfe stream-of-consciousness novel. I mean seriously, who rolls out of bed on a Monday morning and throws on a 3.1 Phillip Lim blouse, Current Elliot cut offs, Wolford tights, American Apparel tube socks, Church's patent leather oxfords, a vintage military jacket from a flea market in Tokyo, a scarf stolen from a mother's closet and which was bestowed upon her by Mick Jagger backstage at Altamont, a Chanel 2.55 bag and Pete Doherty's trilby? Dude. (Just to clarify, none of the aforementioned celebrities have actually appeared in this outfit. I've just taken bits of each girl's signature style and put them together to create one massive celebudouche. Although I'm fairly certain that exact outfit has already been spotted on the streets of Brooklyn once or twice. Do let me know if you've seen it.) 

Now, I'm afraid to report, the online magazine-celebrity column affair is turning into a serious relationship. Agyness Deyn, the androgynous British model famous for her platinum blond crew cut and her inability to walk in Burberry platforms, is launching an online magazine with her friend Fiona Bryne, a journalist who has worked with pubs like NYLON and New York. They're calling it NAAG.com, which is kind of what I feel like doing to Aggy when I see her in outfits like this:

and this:

and especially this:

Asked about the editorial direction of the publication, Aggy replied succinctly: "It's just going to be stuff we think is rad." I'm pretty sure that's short for radon. Because only the ingestion of a radioactive chemical like that can explain these fashion choices.

If you're going to seek my forgiveness, Tiger, do it in a better shirt

Have you heard the little publicized news story about world class golfer Tiger Woods cheating on his trophy wife with a string of slutty 'hos? Yeah, I didn't think so. I mean, it's been buried on the front page of newspapers and tabloids for months now. To bring you up to speed, he just made a public apology to a select group of friends and family. I was honoured to be invited by the CTV News Channel and CNN and The New York Times and, well, just about every other news outlet in the free world. So nice and intimate!

I found it kind of weird that Tiger kept apologizing to me. I don't recall ever asking for an apology. In fact, I don't even recall being the least bit irked by his behaviour. Last I checked, I wasn't married to him, and unless you're Elin, neither are you, so why does everyone care so damn much? Don't get me wrong, Tiger's a dog. But I have a sneaking suspicion that much like the Hugh Grant-Divine Brown affair, the majority of the uproar in this case stems from the fact that few can fathom Tiger's desire for another signature hole. Elin's hot, yo!

If my sources are correct, and bearing in mind my aversion to all things sports-related (see previous post), Tiger Woods is a golfer. Not a spokesman for a family values coalition or the face of Husbands Of The Month monthly. He's a rich guy whose megalomania and illusion of infallibility came back to bite him in the ass. The ensuing public schadenfreude has been biblical, though. He lost endorsement deals and sadly, his own children's charity is suffering. I reckon the kids will be alright, though, since his absurdly bloated salary, which he gets because he knows how to hit a ball with a stick — wow, that's a life-saving talent! — should be sufficient to keep the hope alive. Just don't let him spew any more of this "caring and sharing" rhetoric. We've seen how Tiger shares his woods, and the kids don't need to emulate that.

But since he's offering, I'll take his mea culpa and apply it to something that offended me, deeply and personally: his shirt. I know there's a formula to dressing the part of the apologetic cad, and it involves sober attire mixed with slumped shoulders and a teary, hangdog expression. So I won't go off on the blay colour of his shirt. (That's my attempt to create a new fashion colour by combining blue with gray, like Armani's greige. Yes? No?) But the collar on his shirt looked like it was starched within an inch of its life; it practically stood on its own. Also, the fit was off and well, lemme just say it, it looked cheap. And when the reason behind your televised apology is to publicly repent for putting in another woman's green, cheap is already implied. Don't highlight it with your shirt.