Last week, we reported that D.C.’s Best Dance Night would be moving on up to Club Five this Saturday. Now, it looks like the event will by moving across the street to MCCXXIII, at 1223 Connecticut Ave. NW. Club Five had its license suspended earlier this month after a stabbing occured in the club. Five was set to open again June 18th; according to ABRA, that suspension has now been extended indefinitely.

Miami Horror and Gameboy/Gamegirl are still set to play on the Nouveau Riche bill, but the move to MCCXXIII brings some changes in the event’s time, cover charges, and dress code, says DJ Gavin Holland. The details: The show starts at 10 p.m. Entry begins at $10 and jumps to $20 at midnight. The dress code, while relaxed to include sneakers, does stipulate some no-no’s. Writes Holland:

They have relaxed their normal dress code for us, sneakers are okay. However, no shorts, no sandals, and sadly no totally wacky shit. Basically, dress well by your own standards, but you don’t need to wear fancy shoes or any of that silly ‘club’ attire. You should be lookin’ snazzy for Nouveau Riche anyway, so this should be no different. My heart goes out to Life Preserver Dude from the 9:30 Club, you will not be able to wear your life preserver.

Dear American Apparel,

Please accept my congratulations on your decision to stock the Hitachi Magic Wand Vibrator ($50) alongside your sarcastic bling ($48) and (earnest?) sustainable doggie tees ($17). I would also like to extend a long-overdue thanks for the continued excellence of your free fetish porn.

One query, however. Prithee, A.A., how might one best stimulate the clitoris ironically?

Awaiting your reply,

Amanda Hess

P.S.: I see you are calling the device a “massager.” Is this with the same wink-and-nudge that you refer to this as a skirt?

TheWashCycle puzzles over the Web site of a bike-rental business recently feted in The Washingtonian. Besides the usual services, the company says it also “provides confidential services to those in high-visibility professions” and that hotel concierges “suggest Better Bikes for their guests needing confidentiality.” WashCycle sagely notes that this sounds like an escort service. I dunno, though: considering the fashion Guernica that results whenever cyclists congregate, such as at the recent Bike to Work Day gathering (above), maybe a little discretion is what this sport needs.

Photo by Wayan Vota

Recently an acqaintance shared with me a theory that if you’ve had a good idea, most likely 100,000 other people have had the same idea. The trick, he said, was getting your good idea to market. He’s one of the co-founders of Audible, so I figure his theory is worth pondering.

A couple of months ago, my sister was diagnosed with celiac disease. People with it can’t process gluten and are thus condemned to order many T-shirts celebrating this fact. Our much-missed former art director Pete Morelewicz was similarly afflicted and was always strutting around the office in some shirt or another that alerted folks to his wonky digestive system. After my sister’s diagnosis, I thought about Pete’s shirts and thought it would be funny to make a shirt that said “WHEAT IS MURDER.” I have no idea how exactly many other people had the idea, but there are a few at least. Drat! I thought, and went back to pursuing personal agendas and covering up scandals.

ANYWAY, last night I was at Nationals Park, where at least the pretzels were interesting. Noah’s Pretzels, a local company that has a stand in Nationals Park, sells both gluten-free pretzels and gluten-free beer. Apparently one of the founders has a child with autism, and autistic kids are often sensitive to gluten. Who knew? And also, now I’m glad that my sister has an enticement to come out to the ballgame with me, though perhaps gluten-free pretzels might not be enough.

For the most part, niche blogs will stick around for a few months before slowly fading into the elusive world of google cachés. Not so for local fashion writer Morgan Hungerford’s pet project: This month, her two-year-old panda head blog has officially graduated to a panda head mag.

The 27-year-old Adams Morgan resident started panda head in 2006 with the intention of covering D.C. street style. Over time, though, photos of District fashionistas (they’re out there) gave way to Hungerford’s own fashion commentary, interviews, and photo spreads. “It got boring,” says Hungerford. “It made sense to stop it altogether rather than let it die a slow death.”

But it wasn’t D.C. style itself that bored Hungerford: It was Internet style. “With all the interviews I was doing, I began to push the text limits of a street style format,” she says. “I wanted to be doing more.” For Hungerford, who holds a B.A. in English from James Madison University, the longer magazine format made sense. She did, after all, learn from the verbose: “I was a Faulkner major in college,” she explains.

The inaugural issue of the online-only magazine was written, edited, and styled by Hungerford; design duties were assumed by pal and BrightestYoungThings designer Erik Loften. This edition of the sleekly designed flash site includes photo contributions from Liz Gorman, Hantim Lee and Ryan Wakeman, and interviews with Au Revoir Simone and locals the Multi V’s. The mag will be released quarterly.

I used to work with a libertarian. I mention his political philosophy only because he always wanted to talk about libertarianism—how if anyone looked inside of themselves, really looked inside of themselves, they’d find that they, too, were predisposed toward libertarianism. If you’ve worked with a libertarian, I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.

One day he displayed his commitment to personal liberty by walking around Bryant Park without his shirt on. I’m sorry, it’s weird to see someone from your office shirtless, especially if you’re just trying to eat your lunch and he has unusually prominent nipples and every time you’re in a meeting with him afterward you can’t get the words “party hats…party hats” out of your brain.

So via the “Blog Log” in today’s Express, let me second this rant from B(ridge) and T(unnel) Crowd about men in D.C. jogging without shirts. I see this behavior a lot anytime it’s a nice day on the Rock Creek Park or Mount Vernon Trails. (Guys who run with their shirts off don’t run on days when weather would compel them to cover up.)

The post’s author is absolutely correct: Get something that wicks and spare us the sight of your heaving man-flesh. Oh, and while we’re on the topic, dude with his shirt off, sunglasses on his head, talking on his cell and walking slowly down the middle of the trail? Can’t you do that somewhere else?

Photo by kroo2u

Over at Bright Star, Would I Were Steadfast as Thou Art, Julia steps on two landmines simultaneously, criticizing D.C. cyclists for: 1) their fashion sense; and 2) for wearing helmets.

Obviously, this is the kind of thing that can set off World War III in a comments section, especially since Julia keeps ducking in to zing dissenters.

The argument about cycling clothes vs. street clothes is an old one, and Julia’s in good company: legendary “retrogrouch” Grant Peterson, whose Rivendell bikes are especially lust-worthy, believes that seersucker is superior to spandex and that clipless pedals (which require special shoes that lock into them) are b.s. Me, I think you should ride in whatever makes you most comfortable, but I’m always happy to support efforts to raise D.C. residents’ consciousness about their appalling fashion choices, so Julia, this one’s a win for you.

Her helmet argument, though, is moronic. It doesn’t matter if you’re cycling “attentively and at a leisurely pace.” A couple weeks ago I got rear-ended at a stoplight wearing a (sorry, Julia) neon-yellow jacket and two rear blinking lights. Drivers. Just. Don’t. Care. Fortunately I was stopped and got nothing worse than a nasty jolt, but if I’d fallen my head would have almost certainly hit the curb. Julia, your taste in bikes is excellent, and you’ve obviously got a nice brain. It would be a pity to remove it from circulation. Strap up, mlle.

Photo by rubberpaw

You know the fifty-color fliers and postcards good neighbors leave on your windshield? The ones inviting you to those exclusive afterhours parties and special events? The ones that would make Luther Campbell nod in approval?

While I’m not sure who actually responds to this spam and goes to these things, I do know that they constitute an annoyance. How many of these cards have I tossed into the backseat of my car? Too many!

It’s not a shock that people have complained. Southwest residents have been up in arms over them for a while. They’ve started calling them “Booty Cards.” Kinda perfect.

And they got Councilmember Tommy Wells‘ attention. After months of effort, Wells—along with the D.C. attorney general’s office—has been able to at least banish one company from distributing them. Wells, in a press release, calls this a “partial victory” for Southwest residents—and D.C. citizens in general.

Although he considered them pornographic, Wells knew he couldn’t fight them on indecency issues. Instead, his office went after the company over the trash they produce. A smart move!

-”This is just one battle in a much larger effort,” explains Wells’ Chief of Staff Charles Allen.

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Nicholas Cassadine was sent to the Middle East to perform vulnerability assessment on U.S. military bases. He ended up designing an underwear line for gay men.

“I was in the mountains of Afghanistan and had a lot of time on my hands,” admits the 28-year-old naval officer. It was there, in Taliban country, that clothing company Disco Valante was born.

Cassadine says that Disco Valante’s model skivvies–like a skimpy brief with a star-shooting boom box printed on its ass–aren’t targeted exclusively toward gays. In a press release, Cassadine writes that the line aims to “speak to everyone’s sexiness,” but admits that “strength and interest would be more prevalent in the gay/metro-sexual community.”

With the catchprase “Style.Underwear.Lyfe,” it’s clear that Disco Valante aims to promote a lifestyle along with its underthings. The clothing line’s blog provides lifestyle tips including how to sculpt “killer biceps” to emulate tennis player Raphael Nadal, and “how to choose a great fitting T-shirt” (”if you have items not from Disco Valante, we recommend finding a local tailor and having him/her adjust your clothes to fit your body,” the website suggests). According to the blog profile, Disco Valente’s favorite music includes Michael Jackson, Sade, and George Michael.

The Village People’s “In The Navy” notwithstanding, the lifestyle isn’t one that typically jibes with military culture. But “there’s no conflict,” insists Cassadine, currently stationed in Qatar. “It’s just business.” Still, his mock-up underwear designs have raised some eyebrows around the base. “Some people in the office, they can’t help but look over my shoulder,” he says. “When they see me looking at a picture of a guy with his ass cheeks hanging out of the bottom of his shorts, yeah, they can wonder what’s going on.”

So far, nobody’s asking or telling. Cassadine says his own heterosexuality has not been questioned. “It’s just the oddity of a young guy starting a clothing label,” he says. “A clothing label that’s mostly underwear.”

Following his return to the District this summer, Cassadine hopes to debut his first pair of briefs as early as September, with t-shirts and other graphic apparel rolling out later. Cassadine plans on selling the underwear for 25 to 35 dollars a pair.

Update: I give you “Sex Panther,” a mock-up from Disco Valante’s underwear line-in-progress.

Frozen Tropics has the best pics from the H Street invasion of Bobby Flay’s sweater vest and distressed jeans. Mr. Charred Poblano was in town Wednesday to tape an episode of Throwdown, his show on Food Network, where he “surprises” real chefs who think they might be getting their own show, only to have to stand there in front of the cameras and feed Flay’s ego. Sweater Vest took on Granville Moore’s exec chef Teddy Folkman and his moules and frites. The taping actually took place at the Argonaut, complete with Flay taking a call when he was supposed to be bringing it (Endless Simmer has the evidence). ES also dropped a few nods to the home team that sound suspiciously like a spoiler alert:

Though audience members have been asked not to reveal the outcome of the throwdown, I can say that I found Teddy Folkman’s blue cheese and bacon mussels to be plump, juicy and flavorful, and his frites were crisp, salty and coated in a delicious blend of herbs like tarragon and thyme. The yellow tomato and truffle aioli that he provided for dipping was amazing, though Folkman admitted that the expensive ingredients would preclude him adding it to the menu anytime soon. Bobby Flay’s mussels, true to form, were served in a broth that featured coconut milk, green chiles and tons of butter. They were tasty, but seemed smaller and less tender than Folkman’s. And although Flay’s roasted poblano (naturally) dipping sauce was delicious, the fries themselves were disappointingly plain – more like fast-food fries than Belgian frites.

DC Foodies say the show is set to air in May or June.

I spend about two hours each day outside, commuting to and from work via bicycle, and on days like this I can’t help but reconsider my raingear strategy. Currently that strategy is hoping it doesn’t rain. I have rain pants, but they don’t seem to really work (maybe they’re worn out?). So lately I’ve been considering a rain cape. These capes are very popular in Britain, and French gendarmes used to wear them while pedaling around. (The French word for cape is pélerine, not to be confused with pélerin, which means pilgrim, or pelé, which means bald. If I bought a cape I’d be a pélerineur pelé.) Thing is, with one of these babies on, I could hardly blame someone for throwing a rock at me. Hell, I’d probably throw a rock at myself if it were possible.

Then again, this is D.C., not really the kind of city where you’re gonna get dogged for choosing function over form.

My dithering continues, soggily.

Some people want to believe D.C.’s sneakers-with-stockings fashion days are over. Sure, this is a conservative town, goes the argument, but conservative can be classy, sophisticated, and innovative–and then, of course, there are some people that completely reject the traditional look. A few street fashion blogs have popped up to chronicle our evolution. Rachel Cothran, creator of Project Beltway, seems to be at the forefront of this trend. She not only runs her own site, but also posts on Washingtonian magazine’s website.

But, in the world of style blogs, there’s no one bigger than “The Sartorialist,” aka Scott Schuman, the granddaddy of American street fashion. His photos appear on Vogue’s website and in GQ’s pages. And now, they’re also heading for Adamson Gallery on 14th Street. The show runs from March 15 until April 26, according to Schuman’s blog. Perhaps this exhibit is some great nod to D.C.’s burgeoning fashion consciousness. The gallery owner must have believed a good number of people here would give a damn about the photos.

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Some shots from Tuesday’s D.C. Fashion Week kick-off at the Ukrainian Embassy, from designer Aleksey Zalevskiy’s mutt-meets-drag-Jesus-inspired collection:

more after the jump.

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Last night, the Ukrainian Embassy hosted the opening of D.C. Fashion Week–or, in Ukrainian, “D.C. стиль тиждень” “вашингтонский тиждень стиля.” The kick-off runway show featured five designers from Ukraine, a host of towering, barely-teen models from Maryland, and plenty of chunky techno beats layered with Ukrainian chants and the occasional ABBA.

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There’s been a lot of laughter around these parts about our new ownership’s commitment to something it calls the “Urban Explorer.” This is a person, apparently, who needs a Creative Loafing product to navigate the recesses of darkest Charlotte. Some people here think it’s racist; most just think it’s dumb.

Old Navy, apparently, delivers the last laugh to our bosses with its spring line.

P.S. Watch the ad.