Salt of The Earth: It’s fun to dress like a laborer when you don’t have to lift a finger. [NYTimes]

It’s a Cinch: Our mental jury is still out on this drawstring-hem t shirt. [Carrying Contraption]

Rope A Dope: According to this, Monroe-wannabe Lindsay Lohan’s sobriety is hanging by a thread?a resonating, energy-balancing thread. [SheFinds]

Tough Love: After banning Cathy Horyn, increasingly pissy Giorgio Armani has some choice words for Anna Wintour. [NYMag]

Big and Tall: After doing his best Dr. J impression, Will Ferrell indulges in some Charles Barkley. [Style Dash]

“Why Does Everyone Hate Hipsters?”: Um, because they’re hipsters? [LAist]

Politics as Usual: Sharia Law has nothing on campaign dress codes. [NYTimes]

New York has changed a lot in the past thirty years, and though there’s a lot more glass and concrete than there used to be, there are still a few dinosaurs creaking around.

For instance, the Chelsea Hotel. Founded in 1883, the hotel was a favorite of Mark Twain, and in more counter-cultural days was host to Jack Kerouac, Leonard Cohen, Marilyn Monroe and Bob Dylan, gaining notoriety with the stabbing death of Nancy Spungen.

More pics and info on Inside: The Chelsea Hotel»

Through Thick and Thin: Personally, we’ve always preferred Christina Ricci in her more well-rounded, Buffalo66 days. Not that we’ve got a problem with the carb-free model here. [BlackBook]

Some Like it Very, Very Hot: Just like Paris Hilton, Marilyn Monroe filmed a sex tape before she became a tragic victim of her own fame. Unlike Hilton, Monroe’s oral exam may never make it to your desktop. [NYPost]

Labor Party: A charming, lil’ British-TV presenter is set to star in a reality show based in a faux London sweatshop. This is a good thing, right? [Female First UK]

“Tired of Being Sexy” Hot, hipster mess CSS loses its bassist to fashion—which is apparently the modern equivalent of boozing yourself to death in a pool. [CMJ]

Chat Stew: The dapper king of our TiVo, Joel McHale, sits down to discuss his J. Lindberg jackets, Air Jordans and, wouldn’t you know it, Tyra. [Sign on San Diego]

Slim Jims: Men’s Vogue collects the best slim-cut suits of the season so we don’t have to. [Men’s Vogue]

American Public: Sticky, icky Dov Charney lets the Wall Street Journal into his factory, his office and his infamous bedroom where he takes cloyingly erotic photos of the once-respected broadsheet in a Lycra catsuit. [Radar]

Il Bue Che Dice Cornuto All’asino: Italy bans Tom Ford ad because of their long tradition of high-minded, unporny public discourse. [Radar]

The Distinguished Gentleman From Milan: In related news, Santo Versace, business manager of the family label, has joined Italy’s Parliment. [WWD, 2nd item]

“Masturbation Cuts Cancer Risk”: Well, in that case, maybe we’ll try it some time. [BBC]

Slip Ons: Socks for men without shoes. [Men’s Vogue]

Ripped From the Headlines: Our very own Jared Paul Stern is set to be detonated in effigy in an upcoming episode of “Law & Order.” We couldn’t be more proud. Also, Chung-chung. [NY Daily News]

Ring of Fire: Like a ribbon ‘round your finger, this accessory will remind you of appointments or anniversaries or burn you in the process. [Uncrate]

Beggars and Choosers: A probing piece about the difficulties of funding and presenting at Fashion Week. [Papierdoll]

Monroe Doctrine: The Marilyn sex-tape fantasy goes “pop” in 1,460 words. [Defamer]

Members Only: A jacket checklist for these windbreaker months. [Refinery29]

Falling Arches: Model Erin Wasson broke her foot on a William Rast shoot, but like a true hockey player, she kept trucking. If she needs a place to rest her damaged hooves, she can always use our shoulders. [NYPost]

Spin Class: Decrease your carbon footprint with these two-wheeled designs. [NYMag]

Police Blotter: Style goes criminal as an Aussie clothier heads to the hoosegow, hoodlums rob Nicole Fahri at knifepoint and freak of the week Joseph Fritzl even dresses like because the living embodiment of a Thomas Harris villain. [The Moment]

Off to the Races: Remember to dress for Derby Day. [AP]

His So-Called Life: Everyone’s got a reason to hate Jared Leto. [BlackBook]

Fake It ‘Till You Make It: Sorry, kiddos, those Marilyn and Hendrix sex tapes are about as real as a Paris Hilton orgasm. [Radar and Reuters]

Hedi Octane Diesel: Mr. Silmane’s first foray back into design may take the form of a Diesel Red collection. [WWD, 2nd item]

The Misfits: Vanity Fair joins Marilyn enthusiasts in rifling through the dead starlet’s papers. [Vanity Fair]

Don’t Astaire: A lesson in grooming from Fred Astaire. [A Suitable Wardrobe]

One Wheel to Rule Them All: The unique appeal of the monowheel. [Random Good Stuff]

Veep Veep: Joe Biden favors the banker’s collar…but not actual bankers. [BlackBook]

This month’s Vanity Fair features a windy trot through the remains of Marilyn Monroe’s estate, in the name of unraveling the “mystery of Marilyn’s death.” There are a few Kennedy love letters, one from T.S. Eliot (!?), and a whole lot of morbid fetishism, courtesy of writer Sam Kashner. (The curious can find a full web-only accounting here.) Of course, the media loves a dead blonde, but this is more unseemly than usual.

Monroe’s death is only a mystery the way JFK’s death is a mystery. When a corpse is found surrounded by sleeping pills, you don’t have to reach too far for the truth. Monroe was an orphan, and struggled all her life with what Arthur Miller described (in a far superior VF article) as “the bottomless loneliness that no parented person can really know”, so her suicide not as inexplicable as Kashner would have us believe. The real shock is how blind most writers have been to her real, human problems.

We’re looking at you, Truman»