No, Second Skin isn’t some sort of sci-fi uniform nor is it a latex bodysuit that you find at a “specialty store.” It is the “Ultimate Undershirt” – and I could vouch for that.

“They are not Spanx for men!” laughs founder Tom Patterson. I met with him for coffee last month when he introduced his Second Skin Collection to San Francisco via Neiman Marcus in Union Square.

Patterson says he thinks an undershirt makes all the difference and based on talks he had with his buddies, finding a nice-fitting undershirt that wasn’t boxy nor too tight was difficult. That said, he said he “became a designer by accident.”

It makes sense. Men wear undershirts everyday, but undershirts are an afterthought. Guys tend to buy the six-to-a-pack tees and after a month of wear and tear, they are, in a word, disposable.

Even so, white V-neck tees are one of the most versatile pieces a man could have in his wardrobe. You can dress it up, down, sideways and if you have some great “hevage” it can show that off too.

Packaged in a Tiffany-esque and chocolate colored box, Tommy John (named after the founder from South Dakota, of course) the collection of underwear and shirts have Tailored Stretch Technology created from a blend of Micro Modal and Lycra. It contours to your body rather than clinging to it. Patterson insists that when wearing his product people will ask to pet you all day long. Depending on the person doing petting, I wouldn’t mind.

Here’s the scientific breakdown:

After chatting with Patterson about his product, I was only partially sold. Even though I do feel the bunching up of my undershirts more often than not, I didn’t want to stray away from the familiar. I tend to be a stubborn guy when it comes to my failsafe wardrobe pieces.

Being an open-minded guy, I gave a Tommy John shirt a test drive. As soon as I put it on, the shirt conformed to my body. To be honest, when I took the shirt out of the box, I thought I would look like a “Single Ladies” background dancer. Even though I do know the dance from Beyonce’s video, I cannot rock that look and this shirt was nothing like that. It was as if it knew my body and clung to all the right parts – and even though Patterson insists they are not man Spanx, I think it actually made me look more fit and buff – like the dude on the box. Then again, that might’ve been all in my head.

As for the bunching of the shirt – there was none. In fact, as soon as I put it on, it felt like it evaporated. The hem of the shirt hugs below your waist and doesn’t move. It was magical.

The material was soft. Very soft. Very, very soft. It was like the sartorial equivalent to caramel except it wasn’t sticky. If I could eat the fabric; I would because it is that delicious. And yes, the whole day I was wearing my Second Skin, I felt like taking off my overshirt and letting people feel the silky smoothness of my undershirt – but I didn’t because that is just creepy.

Nonetheless, it looks like I found my new brand of undershirt that requires no disposal.

To purchase some of this magical underwear visit www.tommyjohnwear.com.

I love it when Details does stuff like this. It makes me gauge my doucheosity and the article is a blatant sign that the magazine itself may be the handbook of all that is douche worthy.

So while browsing through the bullet points that illustrate a “thoroughly modern douchebag,” I noticed that only a couple pertained to me:

#29: Moleskine – I have plenty. As a writer, I feel like I evoke the spirit of Hemingway whilst writing in Moleskine journals. That is definitely pretentious.

#33: You know this great little tapas place – I know of a couple. Does that give me extra points?

#40: You double-kiss – I am embarrassed to admit this. Really embarrassed.

#44: You photograph your food – What’s so bad about that? They are pictures that will make you salivate later. Consider it food porn.

#48: You strive to be shot by the Sartorialist – Now that I think of it, this is kind of pretentious. Not really douchey; just really desperate.

#56: You know the difference between skinny and stovepipe – It’s part of my job.

If this were an actual test, I would’ve scored low. Very low. Only 6 out of 63. It’s really surprising. I thought I would be a little bit more pretentious. A lot of my friends would be disappointed. They always count on me to be the resident snob of the group.

If I really want to reach the penultimate level of doucheness, I guess I have to start befriending lesbian chefs, listen to Grizzly Bear and host brunch more often. Perhaps I should even take holiday in Marfa and talk about how fantastic Marni is while tasting “notes” in my favorite beer. Afterwards, I can tell my personal trainer that I want to strengthen my core and then visit “my guy” at the cheese shop and tell him about a really good tailor and tapas restaurant.

Wow. Just by typing all of that I can feel Massengill bubbling through my pores.

According to the Internet’s deluded “for the people by the people” encyclopedia, Wikipedia, the wallet chain was initially worn by motorcyclists back in the day so that when they rode their bikes, they wouldn’t lose their wallets.

My how times have changed.

I am pretty sure the guys I saw were not motorcyclists. Unless motorcyclists fancy popped collared pink Polos and skinny jeans.

I admit – I jumped on the wallet chain bandwagon circa 2004. I had two. One was thick enough to restrain a Rottweiler. The other one was a lot more decorative (code for gayer) – it draped around my waist and might as well have been a belly chain.

I think I wore them a total of four times each before I realized I was a hardcore poser. In fact, I just clipped them on to my belt loops. It wasn’t even a wallet chain because there was no wallet to accommodate the chain. I have no idea what made me buy the chains to begin with.

Actually, I think – I THINK– I decided to try out the waist décolletage after seeing Justin Timberlake wear it in one of his videos. Wow. Did I just admit that?

Perhaps it’s time to retire the wallet chain. Unless you are a motorcyclist, rockstar, associate of a rockstar or even a janitor, maybe you should pass on the wallet chain. When it comes down to it, the wallet chain is a conch belt for men – and we all know that conch belts are for turquoise jewelry-clad soccer moms named Iris who pride themselves on their hefty collection of Southwestern art and Dreamcatchers.

There was lots of food and I didn’t get hit on once. However, Charles and Steve did. I mean, why didn’t I get hit on? I am an angel. I am ethereal. And that is proven in the picture above with my halo (thanks Zaid for pointing that out).

Honestly, I am not approachable. I have this mad dog look on my mug all the time. I look like a bitch. But hell, I am the Dino-Ray.

Anyways, the food was fucking good. I interviewed Christian Audigier of Ed Hardy (no comment) and Tommy Hilfiger – BUT the biggest thing was when the Jabbawockeez peformed (along with TONS of other dancing!)

Read more about it by clicking here, here, here and here!

It was fun! Next up? Tomorrow I am going to the So You Think You Can Dance concert! Oh joy!

And is it me, or is this season of Project Runway turning out to be mind-numbingly boring? I’ve tried to like it and get really involved, but I’m just not feeling it. So many of the designers are turning out to be annoying – and not in a good way.

But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop watching. I mean, I might as well finish what I started – even if it is like waiting for a box of hair to talk.

Okay, okay – Brooke Shields’ style expands above and beyond the SATC step-sister. You can never forget her “Nothing comes between me and my Calvins” (thanks for reenacting that for us Suede). More than that, who can forget her Pocahontas beach diva role in The Blue Lagoon?

But I digress…

The challenge was to design an outfit for Shields’ boho-chic character on Lipstick Jungle, Wendy Healy. The twist in this episode? The designers were working in pairs! Bravo Photo: Barbara Nitke

Click here to read the rest of the story…

Last night our designers went out into the urban jungle of Manhattan and snapped shots of the city at night. From the pictures they took, they were to create a garment suitable for a night on the town.

This challenge seems very familiar to me. Maybe it’s because they did something like it in season two – except they didn’t have to make a garment for a specific time of day. They just had to make a garment inspired by digicam snap shots of the city. (Photo by: Barbara Nitke/Bravo TV)

Click here to read the entire story

All photos are by me of course…

Looks by Virgil Ortiz

A menacing violinist introduces the blindfolded collection…

I love me a nice pair of wide legs on a lady…

Here’s that mink stole by Jonathan David Baker I was gushing about…

Some ethnic flair from Zambia designer, Verona Jane Gordon…

A funky print from L.A. based label, Ja’ire…

A softer, more feminine look from Project Runway alum, Chris March…

I loved this Old Hollywood glamazon diva garment, but I forgot who made it…

And let’s hear it for the children…because they are our future…

Now that time has passed, I think I can talk about it openly. I am at peace with it.

I remember what I was wearing that day: a pair of black Uniqlo slim fit jeans, a dark blue and brown plaid button up from H&M, black skinny tie and my handsome Franceschetti Chelsea boots.

My editor called me from across the room and said, “Can you meet me out in the lobby?” Right then, I immediately knew I was getting the ax. I met her in the lobby and she was on the verge of tears, which, in turn, made my eyes mist over – until she started explaining what the next steps were.

As she was giving me the logistics of the ordeal, I SWEAR she glanced at my crotch. I mean, I am 75 percent sure she glanced down there.

Surprisingly, it put me at ease.

I ventured to a club in SF (who’s name I will keep hush-hush to save its dignity) for my sister’s birthday. Right of the bat, the DJ sucked. I don’t drink, so the music has to be really good at a club for me to enjoy myself – that and the company. The company was great, but the music was a big pile of doo doo. Sure, I everyone loves a great remix to “Like a Prayer,” but give me some ass jiggling freak nasty music that I can pop my booty to.

Then there was the crowd. Is it wrong that this club was blatantly the hub for unattractive people that evening? And we just happened to take a wrong turn. I mean, my crowd was the hottest group of people in there – with the exception of me. I was kind of busted so maybe I fit in.

Anyways, I don’t know if times have changed since I was a big ol’ club whore, but there were so many girls who looked like they should be wearing clear heels and turning tricks on a brass pole – but that’s just the beginning. The guys were ultimately the winners of unnecessary clothing that night.

I recently read an article in this month’s Details titled “Are You That Guy?”

And when they say that guy, they are referring to that guy – you know, the one who thinks he’s really cool because he puts his kid in Che Guevara shirts and says stuff like “I need my Starbucks ASAP” whilst wearing his shirt half tucked and a pair of Crocs.

This had to be one of the best pieces ever written in the mag. It basically defined 90 percent of the guys at the club. From the list of “that guy” annoying antics in the article (click the link above to read it), I spotted these while I was at the club:

- Fist bumps
- The phrase, “My Bad” was used
- People outside of the club offering money for a cigarette
- A wardrobe that consists of a “going out shirt” and “fancy” sneakers
- Guys who thought Hayden Panettiere is hot (okay, this may not have been an obvious “that guy” giveaway at the club, but I could picture SO many guys in the club saying this accompanied with a fist bump.)
- I am SURE there were guys in that club who would claim that they didn’t know who Spencer Pratt is
- Guys with half-tucked shirts
- White dudes with a tattoo in Asian lettering
- There was a rampant Bluetooth epidemic

There were a couple of things left off of this list that I would like to add on. Hopefully the Details editor will casually stumble upon this blog and say, “Hey! This guy is good! He needs to be writing for us!”

But here are some things that I saw last night that need to be added on to this “that guy” list:

- Guys who wear sunglasses inside a dark club – or indoors in general
- Guys who wear really ugly fedoras which don’t make them look dapper, but like a Cuban drug lord
- Groups of guy friends that look like a male version of Destiny’s Child, wearing the same thing but in different variations (i.e. boot cut denim, “fashion” sneakers, and vintage fit screenprint tees).
- Guys with huge unnecessary belt buckles, like a skull or something obnoxiously novel
- Guys who wear wife beaters and paper boy caps
- Guys who mouth the words to every single song that the lame DJ plays and makes overly-animated facial expressions whilst doing so

I am sure I am missing some characteristics, but you get the picture in who “that guy” is…

I did have a good time last night because it was a great opportunity to people watch and to witness my cousin’s gal pal almost get into a fight TWICE – once with a dude. She is gangsta.

From here on out, I am approaching these rare club going trips as anthropological studies.

But there was one thing that made this club well worth my time. As the designated driver, I had to drive my sister and brother-in-law home. I was overjoyed when, out of no where, my sister mumbled from the backseat to pull over so that she could throw up. And while doing so, the song “Weak” by SWV was playing.

It was the end to the most eventful evening I had in a while…Happy Birthday sister!