Yeah, I know that it's been three years since Varvatos transformed the skuzzy CBGB space into a tasteful showcase for his high-end suits, leather jackets, and rocker boots, but last night's "Free the Noise" concert was the first time I had seen live music there since I was a 14-year-old punk at a hardcore matinée headlined by Agnostic Front. The sight of scarily-tattooed L.E.S. tough guys nearly made me poop my Pampers back then, but this time around I'm almost old enough for Depends. Or at least I enjoy wearing them on weekends!

Last night's show was a battle of the bands between three unsigned acts. The winners were local favorites Reckless Sons, who scored a record deal with Island/Def Jam and a Varvatos ad campaign. I heard they were pretty good, but I missed their set because I spent most of the night in a big black bus parked in the alley behind the store. That's where I met the judges of the contest, Jane's Addiction's Perry Farrell, photographer Mick Rock, Spin editor-in-chief Doug Brod, and Varvatos himself, just before they went inside to hear the show.
Perry wore a black vest, silk scarf, slim-fit shirt and pants, and pointy black boots. He sat next to his distractingly buxom wife, Etty, who was encased in a sequined mini-skirt from Top Shop in London, a black American Apparel tank top and YSL pumps.

"Where are you from?" he said.

I'm from Gawker.

"You're from Dockers?" Everyone laughs. "I'm like, 'How does a guy from Dockers get on here?' That's about the only pants in the world I can't wear. I'm wearing Varvatos from head to toe."

Had he seen any shows during Fashion Week?

"We went to one show," he said, already bored. "We saw a lot of sneakers and tall girls."

I asked how they were preparing to judge the bands, and Varvatos made a smoking-a-joint gesture. What are you listening to these days, John?

"Kings of Leon, Bravery, The Killers, My Morning Jacket. There's a brand new band called Alberta Cross, which are unbelievable." Seen any good fashion shows? "No," he said.

Mick Rock, who is best known for his iconic shots of a Ziggy Stardust-era David Bowie, has a model daughter who probably walked in this week's shows. But he was more interested in busting on me than talking fashion. "I wish you were better looking," he said. "I want some young boys for the evening. You're very nice, but I don't find you attractive. It's problematic."

Then everyone got off the bus, including me. I ran into another famous rock photographer, Bob Gruen. What was his favorite shot he took at CBGB? "That's like having a favorite kid. But the Runaways were one of the best shows, in '76." Had he seen any fashion shows? "My wife, Elizabeth, is a designer. But we don't really get involved in the shows. It's not about fashion, it's about commerce."

Nobody I talked to seemed to care about Fashion Week anymore, including me. So I went back on the bus, and met Bobby, a forty-something nightclub promoter. He told me he was really into models. A few tall, pretty girls he had invited began to arrive. Soon, he was showing me pics on his iPhone of himself partying with topless girls in a hotel room. In some of them, his pants were undone, and his junk was exposed. This was starting to get weird.

A few hours later, the fridge full of Heinekens had been drained, and Bobby was handing out shots of Patron. Perry Farrell and his wife returned. Perry looked at all the strange people on the bus, said, "Whoa!" and went to a curtained-off nook in the back.

I started talking to Perry's wife, Etty. "We've been married 7 years," she said. "I've actually danced with Jane's Addiction since 1997, and that's how we met. I was wearing a fishnet body stocking and pasties. They had a two-story high stripper pole. And ultimately, as we got to know each other, I got more clothing. I got a bra, and I thought, 'This is great. I have a bra."

She invited me to come to Rose Bar for a drink with Perry's assorted hangers-on, but I felt like I had already worn out my welcome. Besides, I was as bored of this scene as I was of Fashion Week itself. Before I went across the street for a nightcap at the Bowery Hotel, I asked Perry if he had any parting advice for me. "Never wear a shoe that makes your foot look small," he said.

After all, it is still Fashion Week, right?

Yes, that's a real, live raccoon you see in John Varvatos' SoHo shop, on the corner of Spring and Greene. According to the nice lady I talked to when I called, animal control sadly took him away before they had time to name him, after a significant crowd had gathered outside. She had no idea how he got in, and no idea where Animal Control took him to.

I also inquired if they sell fur, and she said they didn't, that some of their items had shearling on it, and I was like, is that fake fur? And she was like, no, but it's like, wool. So I concluded that the animal was not going to be hastily skinned and used for a John Varvatos product.

Varvatos' trademark streak of rock and roll aesthetics in his work goes uninterrupted. After using guys like Iggy Pop in his fashion campaigns, using rock photographer Danny Clinch to shoot them, and most significantly, saving CBGB from becoming a Chase branch by turning it into one of his high-end fashion boutiques to much controversy and outcry by angry people who still thought CBGB meant something besides its status as a relic - which he preserved by keeping much of the original rock club intact - this isn't surprising. He's embracing some punkass animals looking to stir up some shit in his stores! Rock. More of this, please.

[Special thanks to our tipster Cheryl Tan, who has a blog and who is having an awesome day.]

According to the authoritative reference guide Urban Dictionary, 37 out of 47 voters agree that the "white man's overbite" is "derogatory term used to describe the facial expression white people make while dancing." How laceless Chucks are similar to this offensive display of whitey unhipness it is difficult to say. And the ethnic complications of wearing John Varvatos become more complex as Alex continues. "His men's clothes are clean and fitted in the European sense but slightly rumpled, as if you took a well-dressed wealthy young Italian, got him drunk and let him sleep on the beach overnight." Unhip whiteys? Drunken Italians? What about ... self-hating black people?

Over a large wooden table of T-shirts at the front of the store hangs a homage, unintentional or not, to Ralph Ellison's "Invisible Man": a tangle of scores of light bulbs, strung together and hanging from an iron rack, the electric wires braided together. It resembled, in fact, a photograph by the artist Jeff Wall titled "After 'Invisible Man,' by Ralph Ellison, the Prologue, 1999-2000."In the book, Ellison used light to define his identity: "Perhaps you'll think it strange that an invisible man should need light, desire light, love light. But maybe it is exactly because I am invisible. ...Without light I am not only invisible, but formless as well; and to be unaware of one's form is to live a death." Mr. Varvatos, it is clear, is trying to do the same: on sale at the table are T-shirts that read, "Who the hell is John Varvatos?"

As the Daily News reports, it turns out that the two-of-a-kind Long Island couple charged earlier this week with beating, knifing, and caging their Indonesian domestics, have filed some olfactory court action of their own:

Accused Long Island slave master Mahender Sabhnani announced yesterday he's suing L'Oreal and Giorgio Armani perfumes for alleged trademark infringement of his men's cologne, Attitude, the Daily News has learned....

Sabhnani contends he launched Attitude in 1995 and that it is sold nationwide. Then in March, Sabhnani read in Women's Wear Daily that L'Oreal was promoting a men's cologne with the same name.

He did some checking and found out that the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office had canceled his trademark because he had neglected to file some paperwork, and L'Oreal applied to use the name last December, the complaint says. Giorgio Armani Perfumes is a division of L'Oreal.

Scent of a Woman—Sold For a Man [WSJ]
Long Island 'slave master' smells lawsuit [NYDN]