If you have ever bought a T-Shirt online with some sort of custom art work it is likely that the shirt is from American Apparel (AA). They make really cool casual clothes without branding. Bonds would be the Australian equivalent without the focus on underwear. Many a time I have wanted to purchase a top of some sort purely on style. Though not actually making the purchase due to the graffiti like art work. AA have a great range and I plan to make a purchase, some of the hoodies seem a bit pricey though.

I was recently reminded by a post on Manolo for the Men about Pocket Protectors that the more functional clothing is, the less desirable it is. Since the onset of cargo pants, it has been fascinating how designers borrow ideas from existing highly functional clothing. All imaginable pockets have been preconceived from tradesman like industries. Sending the image that the wearer needs the additional pockets to hold tools when they really bang keyboards from nine to five.

If your in the need of additional naval gazing in middle of summer catch the highlights of the Victoria's Secret 2007 fashion show. Which blessed our screens just before Christmas.

Local male underwear producer aussieBum (with dick pointing technology) are sponsoring four blokes to drive from Sydney to Dublin. The Crazy Journey boys bought a second hand hummer and took off on an endless adventure of partying in the hope of spreading the word of youth mental illness. I must be the only one who can not see the relationship between partying and mental illness.

Had a bit of a run in yesterday. My poor little stationary Mazda was violated by a Nissan Path Finder wearing a bullbar the size of Tasmania. Pushing me forward into the rear of the car in front. The Nissan hit me at quite a pace, enough to throw my sun glasses off (a MySpace junkie blogger would post a self taken picture of themselves wearing the glasses in question... I'll hold off the urge).

Now I am getting reacquaint with the every day CityRail commuter. Eventually my daily thought process will be deciding whether to slit my wrists before or after getting onto the train. It's great being virtually legless, especially when I have to be in Wollongong for the weekend.

Isn't it great how polictics pushes fashion. Gorbachev scored work though Louis Vuitton. Australian PM contender Kevin Rudd managed to move a billion pieces of Kevin 07 shirts clocking up $100k in additional campaign budget. Now they are buying a fishing village in India to keep up with demand, as long they vote Labor.

Continuing with shirts, I recently found out about RedBubble. A Melbourne start up hosting an online art community. Where art works can be printed onto shirts. Apart from the two week turn around, the shirts look great.

Lastly I'm still sporting brusies from a recent bucks weekend up in Terrigal. A weekend of firsts, paintball/skirmish on the Friday and golf on the Saturday. Paintball is a great way to prove to yourself that your not as fit as you think you are. Then there is golf. A social way of blowing a nice day in the sun, with beers. I drank enough Pure Blondes to last me till the new year. Why Blondes? The best excuse one of the blokes came up with was the weekend really a health retreat, as Blondies are low in carbohydrates.

Catch a look at me pimping my RedBubble threads.

After six months of pretending to have half a clue about fashion I found myself attending the Rosemount Australian Fashion Week Transeasonal 2008. Luckily for me I manage to tag along with the Vogue Online team. Originally the deal was for me to provide technical support in the media room, but that fell apart. Nonetheless my ticket remained valid.

Although the week is really three days of stretched out shows. The white horse of designers in this event is Alex Perry. Better known for wearing sunglasses on his shinny head day or night. Prior to shows, people have drinks. A lot of them. Unfortunately the bar at the OPT was only serving two types of beer: light and the golden bottle of Australia's worst beer, Crown Lager. I was thirsty and not driving oneself home so I stuck to no bodies mate Crown Lager.

The Vogue posse managed to answer my fashion victim questions whilst glancing at lovely long legs and familiar faces. Sophie Falkiner was lapping it up for the camera and Lil John got rejected enticing local girls to a private party.

Lining up the for Perry show we pass the publicity photo booth where celebrities line up to be blinded by camera flashes. It's interesting that they line up. The likes of John Steffensen and Lizzy Lovette file in like cattle waiting to be prodded. Next I find my reserved seat in the fourth row of five.

Obviously the front rows either side of the catwalk are full of apparent celebrities. Including line drawer Michelle Leslie, David Jones good girl Megan Gale and hair frolicker Joh Bailey. The most exciting part of the night was the pre-show gee up. Everyone is almost settled, lights dim and the catwalk illuminates blue.

The music rolls, the Perry name appears, lights thrust themselves on and the models start there descent. With summer virtually on our door step one would expect to be entertained with the latest summer apparel, swimwear. Transeasonal means the threads worn in the spot between autumn and winter or something like that. With my hope of a night of naval gazing abolished I wiped away my tears and continued to watch the toothpick show.

As expected the models all looked the same, leaning so far back that walking was used as a way of avoiding permanent back injury. Some were on a mission to complete the catwalk in record time. Leaving me with only single non ghosted picture (which in itself is a hopeless picture). Lastly, one model almost cracked a smile.

Within 10 minutes the show is over and we are searching for more beverages. With the Vogue playmates I join in on which outfits Bloke Vogue gives the thumbs up to. Oddly I only decided on two after I saw the back of them. One tuxedo jacket had a clearly defined (almost chalk like) white lines lines on the back. The other was a Matrix style green jacket. Looking online, I can only guess which ones they are.

After polishing off a few more brown lemonades the after party become a drought so we headed home. I preplanned my next day: come into work fashionably late.

It's good to see that the Australian fashion icon Ugg Boots are finding wearers world wide. You would be hard pressed to find an aussie who hasn't roasted their feet in a set of ancient uggs at one point in their life.

Step now into the 21st century featuring Crocs. Popular outdoor shoes available in a huge range of colors. Namely pink and blue. I first saw these abominable excuses for footwear last year in Israel. My mate, an Israeli living in Australia, wasn't impressed on what his comrades had resorted to. To me they are pushing the ideal mixing thongs and slippers which doesn't work.

Continuing on the extreme a blending of the species has been detected. The DNA of Crocs and Ugg Boots has been spliced to spawn Cruggs! Luckily for high blood pressure sufferers the damage to the environment is not wide spread, the survival rate appears to be awfully low.

Wearing baggy pants has been popular for a number years. Largely due to the comfort factor. More recently, wearing pants low is a trend that requires its own legislation.

Council members from Alexandria, Louisiana, are doubling as city fashion police. The unanimous decision states that pants dangling below waist line are banned. Offenders (fashion victims) will receive a $30 fine. Other cities are on the path to introduce similar legislation with fines starting at $500!

At least the law isn't gender specific so the fashion detectives have a chance discriminate. Personally I don't like my belt buckle rubbing against my jewels. The real test is how the wearer can perform in a fight or flight response situation. Surely they would be tripping over themselves within the first three steps.

Not long along the ladies where all for showing off a G-String crawling up there back. Whilst at the same time their pants where falling in the other direction. They since have decided to go with undershirts that basically cover that region. Guys need to start wearing Batman like utility belts to make up the lost ground between the waist line and wherever the pants are hanging around.

Usually on Father's Day we all have some sort of family commitments. Well today, I had my own. Piled into my mate's two door Holden Astra we made our way to Wollongong. Leaving before dawn, we had an appointment with the heavens. Sky diving, over the beach.

With the obvious expectation of nerves and death talk we were all pretty excited. Rigged up and ready to go we head to the local airport. Ten minutes down the highway one of the instructors announces that the plane is currently out of action and we will be delayed for an hour. It seemed like an standard joke for new jumpers but I couldn't pick a smile from any of the other instructors. However they were excited because they got the chance to have breakfast. So back we headed for a nervous snack at the local coffee shop.

Eventually we get notified, reattach harnesses and we are off. Arriving at the airport the twin propeller starts without a problem. The plane takes a maximum of ten jumpers. In our case five instructors and five first timers. Sitting facing the tale we reach 14,000ft in 20 minutes. During which my instructor, Tim, is getting touchy feely with my straps making sure all is in order.

Watching the first member of our party disappear I was next out within 10 seconds. On my knees facing the door Tim got me out before I knew it. Then I must of blacked out or closed my eyes because I don't recall seeing the plane disappear. Likely it was just so quick. Quickly realising what's going... I'm free falling.

A really odd sensation that I didn't feel like I was falling. Just a lot of air being pushed against my face. Extending my right hand out puts me into a right spin, pull it back in, straighten up. Surreal. All good things come to an end, Tim opens the chute. With a whiplash like force enough to say good buy to future Father's Days.

Slowing down for the beautiful cloud cover. I see a my silhouette against the clouds below with a rainbow affect. It's not often you cast a shadow on a cloud. Making hard bank turns with the parachute pulls an unexpected number of G's. With the last left turn I actually land first with a nice bum skid. Back on my feet and slightly nauseous Tim shakes my hand and says "Welcome to Sky Diving".

Whilst internally hiding a number of brown lemonades on Saturday night, a discussion topic of Man Cans appeared. Oddly it didn't really have anything to do man boobs, a life threatening condition that affects many blokes. Apparently the watchers of televisual media (TV) have discovered a campaign promoting a rather unhelpful website, mancans.com.au.

The clever ads are also available online. They put blokes in everyday situations but act very unmanly: Blokes crying during a movie, unable to drive a manual and not using ones hands at a BBQ. Resulting in the instant growth of man cans, much to the disgust of immediate company.

Getting anything useful out of the site is as easy as driving to China. Apart from the sleuth of obvious jokes and the mantra, it seems like nothing more than a waste of Internet real estate. The mantra being a self help speech that borderlines with the 10 commandments, again something I could do without.

Thanks to the Internet, the word in the ether is that the Man Can ideal is nothing more than a marketing ploy. With an eventual relaunch of the original thirst quencher, Solo.

Lets all hold our breath while a skeleton from a politician's closet jumps out and makes the Sunday morning news. The point is no one really cares, he actually didn't do anything. If camera phones were as popular then as they are today, some dodgy footage would have made it onto YouTube. Making your way into a strip club isn't really a big deal, a stripper promoting spoof gum as a Portuguese sause alternative is bigger.

Kevin Rudd was a model patron at the strip club - a patron any bouncer/pimp/door bitch would have welcome into their club. Honestly I would have been offended if he didn't go. He was attending an international conference, he needed to step outside of his comfort zone and experience the local culture. What is possibly more interesting is which other nation's representatives innocently tagged along - it's likely they ran into the crew representing the Netherlands at the venue.

Strip clubs are only good if you enjoy buying a round at the same price as a return flight to Perth. Watching 40 year old apparent university students who only do it until they graduate can get a little lethargic.

When pajama retailers come out with new lines they can always push the pillow fight card as a head turning advertising campaign. Today the apparently renowned underwear producer Davenport has come up with the cream pie food fight as their talking point.

Shipping in a bus load of hot bodies wearing nothing but so called comfortable and fashionable underwear, smothered head to toe in cream will turn a few heads. At least the creative team didn't push a water theme, even though it's controversial.

Underwear you wear everyday is meant to be comfortable. Really, it sits under your clothes, away from prying eyes. So why do we need fashionable pieces? How long does one really stare at themselves in the mirror when they put on their underdaks. It boggles the mind that there are two pairs of men's basics and 17 from the fashion collection. Sure the chicks look hot, but do they really put them on everyday?

Unlike aussieBum, Davenport undies are available in real stores. Not those pretend ones you find on the Internet. Men's boxers and briefs can be found in Myer stores Australia wide. If you missed the ad, you can view it online as many times as you want.