Trashionistas, And Other Sartorial Miscreants

Manhattan is known for being a hub of all things fashion, but even hubs have their shaky spots. Bergdorfs is a Baccarat ashtray's throw away from Abercrombie and Fitch, and poor little Prada-Soho has to spend its days trying to ignore the coos over the checked mini skirts and faux-fur-lined hoodies of its neighbor, American Eagle (do you think the stores' respective customers ever go through the wrong doors --Miuccia dabbling in bunnies, snowflakes, and Americana-lite? No wonder it's on 3500% mark-down).

Our own street, St. Marks Place, is famed for its er, alternative approach to style, and nary a day goes by where we don't see doc-martened ghost-faced teens oggling Trash and Vaudville's patent-leather pleasures. While less than aesthetically appealing, the goths, anarchists, wikkens, and sundry disillusioned at least make for interesting scenery. This morning, however a quartet of patchwork Uggs, fake-distressed minis, and Coach logo bags inspired us to create this, a list of the most irritating looks running rampant in our city. Feel free to add on....

The "why doesn't Tory Burch put the shiny metal logos on everything?!"

The "Chloe Sevigny's Opening Ceremony collection is genius. All of it. Even the calico jumpsuit. Especially the calico jumpsuit."

The "Avril Lavigne is my style goddess. Kan't w8 4 her nu Khols' line!"

The "Nobody gets me, except Dov Charney"

the "True Life: I'm from the South Shore" (go watch it on mtv.com. we're not kidding.) "True Life: I'm not from the Bronx but once my boys at V.I.M. are through with me, I might as well be." (Because my Mets love can't be contained within a normal-sized hat and jersey.)

Men who carry Longchamp "briefcases." Drop them. Right now.

Men who pretend they're wearing Nantucket reds and nautical belts ironically, but really aren't

The "I was the hot girl in high school," east coast division: xxs abercrombie "humor" tees and denim belts masquerading as mini-skirts, hollister versions of the same, classic Uggs, a touch of J. Crew, artfully tattered Project E polos, triple-layered Lacoste, logo bags, North Face fleeces

The "I was the hot girl in high school," west coast division: Abercrombie/Hollister, Juicy gym(ish) wear, limited edition Uggs, Primp long underwear, Free City studded sweat shirts, rhinestoned sevens and rock and republics, uber-frayed true religions, Louis Vuitton speedy (See Cavallari, Kristin)

The "I was the hot girl in high school," south division: Like her east coast counterpart, minus the north face and plus an obnoxiously large strand of pearls

The "I was the hot girl in high school," florida division: Bebe, Marciano, A/X, shirts as dresses, jersey/spandex, satin/spandex, designer flip-flops, Guess? logo bags (see Hogan, Brooke)

The "I was friends with the hot girl in high school, sort of, when we were 6: Smaterings of blatant Abercrombie and Hollister, foach bags, more than a touch of American Eagle and even (quelle horreur) Aeropostal