Calling all MILFs! The French edgy-basics brand, Comptoir des Cotoniers, is conducting an open casting for its signature mother-daughter ad campaign. Apply on-ligne!

I’ve always wanted Mr. MILF to review Portfolio and Men’s Vogue. Why? Both mags are aimed at some vague notion of him — an urbane financial professional — but it’s never crossed his mind to pick up either one — the man reads ELLE! — and I wanted to know why. Since the financial-crisis thing is keeping him busy, here’s the gist. Ready, Si? Portfolio, which Conde Nast has downsized from 12 issues to 10, feels like an uncredited homework assignment to someone in an industry that speaks the language of The Wall Street Journal. Why bother? And Mogue, now a shadow of itself at two issues per year, is basically a women’s magazine without pictures of beautiful women. Talk about, Why bother? !!

If there is a National Magazine Award for satire, Daily Intel’s Chris Rovzar and Jessica Pressler should win for their really funny, and totally spot-on imaginary conversation chez Madonn-a-Rod.

Calories are back! Are you counting? [NYT]

Peter Frampton is the best samaritan! Did you know the natty British crooner became a U.S. citizen and bought a home in a Republican part of Ohio just so he could vote in our election? His neighbors have been stealing his Barack Obama signs. [Radar (R.I.P.)]

Miuccia Prada still doesn’t dig the diversity thing. The spring campaign is reportedly very blonde and European.  [fashionologie]

Could there be a more appropriate casting than Marion Cotillard as the new face of Dior? J’adore!

As if strolling my daughter past American Apparel’s skanky windows didn’t provide justification enough for my AA boycott, Jezebel reports that owner Dov Charney is more of a monomanical womanizer than previously thought. Just say no to sex offenders!

With the reissue of Art Spiegelman’s 1979 “Breakdowns: Portrait of the Artist as a Young %@&*!,” Sarah Boxer leads a tour of the searching, pre-Maus graphic artist — and it’s amazing. [Slate]

Props to the ladies of the nightly news! Katie Couric, Rachel Maddow and Campbell Brown freakin’ own the box. [Salon]

I am sending Jennifer Hudson a huge karmic hug, and I hope you will do so too.

In the Year of the Woman, New York Magazine appears to have forgotten all about us. For the second consecutive issue, I haven’t a whit of interest in anything in the entire book. One week of nothing can be a relief. But two weeks of nothing is depressing, all the more so because these two issues are all about boy stuff, and this boy world blows. Last week’s “Manic-Depressive Economy” issue was all about the men who fucked up, and whose jobs and psyches are impacted by all the fucking up, with zilch about how the crisis will affect women’s precarious position within the industry — although there was an insulting Intelligencer piece this week about one hausfrau who will have to do without new kitchen countertops. Also, this week: a jinx of an article about an Obama presidency; something about the Knicks; something else about the Yanks; and a piece about Billy Elliot hopefuls, which can’t qualify as girly because so many straight men actually liked the movie. Best Bets is about boy hoodies — even though we are the spenders — and the In Season recipe is for pasta — even though we are the cooks and New York women all know better than to serve pasta after 5pm, although some husbands may suddenly be home for dinner at that hour. Next week I want lots of hot-pink power suits and a trashy celebrity story. Thanks! XO