Mickey Rourke used to be so subtle. Remember Rumble Fish (a.k.a. Mumble Fish)? It was beautiful; the soundtrack hummed and knobbed to keep Rourke's cadence going. Mexican Radio, anyone? Then the boxing, and then the dropout and return to mondo box office numbers with a film that, while humorous, sad, and lilting, was free of his whisperspeak. I'm not sure how he dressed back in the eighties, but it was nothing like the greasy, quasi-lovable mook in an untucked black tie shirt with long cuffs, Prada kicks (sometimes he subs them out with Stubbs and Wooton), and loud jackets. The shades are perennial. Now he's shopping a new look.

Mickey was spotted (no doubt with his precious chihuahua in hand) shopping on Madison Avenue at Dommico Vacca's flagship buying two custom three-piece suits and silk shirts in brown and midnight blue. If ever there was a bootstrap renegade dresser back in the high life, Rourke is it. Next time I see him, drinks are on me if he tells me who advises his wardrobe. And no, Mickey, I don't box. But I'm a dog guy too.