Hard-Core Cuts: The changing hairstyles of noted dandies Black Flag documented once and for all. [WFMU]

Above the Knee: More timely advice on men’s shorts. [NYMag]

Sit, Stay, Good Dog: Taking off on the Japanese waif-boy trend, Korean girls are treating their beaus like pets. As long as we get a tummy rub and a biscuit, we’re kinda okay with this. [Geekologie]

Father Knows Best?: The worst TV dads of all time collected just in time for father’s day. You can always say to yourself, “Well, at least Pops was no Eric Camden.” [Art of Manliness]

Flip Flopper: Blue-eyed, honey-blond men’s fashion blogger Amanda Brooks can play with our thongs anytime. [Men’s Vogue]

Image via Selectism

It turns out even the great MOTH Malcom McLaren isn’t immune to a little swindle now and then. His historic punk clothing line—originally titled SEX, but eventually known as Seditionaries—has run into a nasty counterfeiting trade run by Simon Easton. Of course, the 30-year-old threads are collector’s items by now, so the price tags get pretty high. WWD reports that Easton has sold 80,000 UKP worth of fake merch to collectors, including artist Damien Hirst.

McLaren comments in the article, “I would never have thought 30 years ago when I was making this stuff on my kitchen table that someone would want to copy it like a Goya or a Van Gogh.” Of course, knowing McLaren, the thought has probably crossed his mind dozens of times, but it’s a little too flattering. The clothes are more like history than fashion or art. The reason collectors and museums are clamoring for them—and creating a market for counterfeits—is because of McLaren’s own swindle. His SEX shop in 1977’s London was the first time anyone had thought of charging top dollar for ripped, stained clothing.

He did it all with a knowing smirk, but it didn’t stop him from getting rich. Surely he wouldn’t begrudge a fellow con man a swindle of his own?

This month’s GQ had a few nice items, but we have to take issue with this bit of wisdom (on p58, for the curious):

Fingerless gloves have always struck me as too raggedy—fine for a punk rocker or a chimney sweep, but that’s about it. This season, though, Bottega Veneta has turned that notion on its head and is offering cashmere fingerless gloves that are more than chic. I love the idea of a punk rocker (a rich one) in full-on rock garb but with luxurious gloves

When their target buyer is a rich punk rocker, it’s usually not a good sign»

Thirty years down the line, it’s hard to stay mad over punk rock being coopted by marketing agencies…but somehow Diesel has managed to step over the line.

This year’s marketing mis-step»

The punk years were pretty rough, both economically and sartorially speaking, but there’s no doubting Debbie Harry was one of the highlights.

Add in a few older gents settling into wine-soaked adulthood—we’re looking at you, Bowie and Keef—and it’s a photoset we’re more willing to take a glance at. The photos are all courtesy of godfather of rock photography Bob Gruen (hat tip to Phazerblast), and there’s plenty to like.

Don’t be surprised if the jeans look familiar.

See more of the scene»

For a few years in the 60s, the plaid blazer was the height of country club sartorial adventurousness. But for the past 30 years, it’s been worn with a decidedly different intent.

These days you’re most likely to see it in a record store, accompanied by a Mohawk and a full set of piercings. The off-color patch makes it clear Junya Watanabe is on the latter side of the equation with this Commes des Garcons item. But maybe he should have checked with Vivienne Westwood before he took this one on. He seems to have missed the point.

The appeal of the loud plaid blazer doesn’t just come from the fact that it looks like something Curtis LeMay wore on weekends. It also looks like something you picked up at a vintage store for $5, which might make its boutique appeal somewhat limited…

The band t-shirt’s always been a contentious item—and it’s only gotten worse in the age of Pitchfork—but we’ve still got a soft spot for a good screenprinted tee. Especially if it comes with a few smudges and a good story.

These tees come from Cesar Padilla’s latest tome Ripped: T-Shirts from the Underground, an ode to the bootlegged t-shirts of the 70s and 80s, and they’re some of the better punk artifacts out there. Padilla’s also the man behind Cherry, one of New York’s better vintage shops, so he’s had plenty of time to cull the best of the best. For your own wardrobe, we’d suggest something a little more recent and a little less historical—just so you don’t have to borrow someone else’s story—but there’s no harm in looking.

See some of our favorite band shirts»