It’s lotion meets motion with 'Monster Garage' host Jesse James’s new ‘product’ picks for men.

James, getting buzzed, from Jesse James and His Beautiful Machines by Nathaniel Welch.

Jesse James is about to blow the lid off a few biker stereotypes at a Kiehl’s store near you. The 39 year old is best known as the host of the Discovery Channel shows “Monster Garage” and “Motorcycle Mania,” and for the celebrity-heavy client list of his Long Beach, California bike shop, West Coast Choppers (Kid Rock, Keanu Reeves, and Shaquille O’Neal, to name a few).

New Orleans' favorite beer is back on the Bayou (and in a few Yank bars).

My grandfather chased his bourbon with it, my father stocked his fraternity house with it, and it was my first stolen sip of beer as a kid. I can still remember the green and white label looking up at me from the bottom of an ice chest at a barbecue when I was twelve—magnified by a foot of water and the lure of the forbidden, promising Southern manhood by the ounce. Even at twelve, I’d heard the name enough to know that Dixie beer had a cultural significance in Louisiana on par with LSU football, gumbo, and humidity. Even Walker Percy gave it due reverence when he wrote that one can “eat crawfish and drink Dixie beer and feel as good as it is possible to feel in this awfully interesting century.” Dixie beer has been washing down Gulf oysters and boiled crawfish since 1907, but has been on a hurricane hiatus for the past two years since the brewery was flooded by Katrina and then dismantled by looters.

Her rise to the A-list may have come as a surprise to those who think of her as the quintessential Maxim girl in Daisy Dukes. Stinson Carter, however, reveals the smarts and talent hidden behind that sassy gal named “Joy” who millions of beer-swilling viewers know on a first-name basis. “Pass the Pinot, please.”

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“The brash side is all anybody wants to show,” says Jaime Pressly. “You know why I haven’t volunteered personal information to reporters? Because I know they don’t give a damn; they want to keep me where they have me.”

Where she is on our first interview is inside her house. It isn’t an Airstream. Jaime Pressly answers the door of her Mediterranean revival home in the North San Fernando Valley, holding an English Bulldog and a Boxer by their couture-designer collars. Her around-the-house-casual zippered jacket and drawstring pants give her the look of an off-duty model, and the heavily teased hair she sports on “My Name Is Earl” is pinned back with the easy elegance of a Hepburn, not a hardware store pin-up girl.

“Sexy sophistication” is how she describes not just her own style, but also that of her ready-to-wear clothing line J’aime, which debuted in 2005. “Having a child has completely changed everything,” she says. “Even if you look at the design of my clothing, it’s a whole new collection now. Everything about it is different because it’s more conservative, but it still has a sexy sophistication to it. Everything is that way with me since having a baby.”

In many of his roles, the California surfer-turned-actor has had military or crime-fighting acronyms emblazoned across his back. But they slide right off. As 'Butchie,' the lovable, drug-addicted wave rider on HBO's lamentably fallen 'John from Cincinnati,' he showed his true thespian chops. Oh, and clothes hang just fine on his shoulders. Here, the unofficial Mayor of Venice, California holds forth as Chairman of the Board.

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Van Holt with Dar on his 1972 Triumph in his garage.

I don't really believe I'm the 'Mayor of Venice.' My friends just call me that," says 38-year-old Brian Van Holt, who recently showed both his acting and surfing skills in "John From Cincinnati," the critically praised HBO series from "Deadwood" and "NYPD Blue" creator David Milch.

Whether or not Van Holt abides or suffers the "mayor" title, he doesn't have to pay for his coffee at Stroh's, the upscale Abbot Kinney deli around the corner from his loft. And when we stroll into the neighborhood French bistro after their posted lunch hours, the waiter lets it slide. Much later, at the chic tapas outpost Primitivo, he is greeted by name, and by primo back-porch table. Later still, the jam-packed Otheroom bar makes space for his sizable group. The bill is light.

It has hosted hordes of hungover rockers looking for a breakfast special on the Sunset Strip. But it’s also an amazing gallery of Hollywood 8x10s, marking a time gone by.

The classic black-and-white glossy headshot is dead, and its mausoleum is Duke’s Coffee Shop on the Sunset Strip—not to mention countless dry cleaners and body shops scattered across Los Angeles.

Duke’s walls are a timeline of the once ubiquitous symbol of showbiz, from Frank Sinatra in his Rat Pack suit to Stephen Baldwin with a dangle earring and three-day stubble. “I haven’t had a new one in two years,” says Beverly Pittman, manager and 30-year veteran of Duke’s. “It’s like they’ve stopped making them."