Lollapalooza style was dominated by the usual crowd of hipsters and hippies dressed in vintage accessories and boho best. But even with the dreads, sari-esque wraps, and bandanas, there was still enough khaki, camo, and greek gear in the crowd to remind us that we were at Lolla and not at Bonnaroo. From aviators to V-necks, here are eight trends we liked at the fest...

The holy trinity of Lollapalooza attendance: a mini-roll of Charmin, handy wipes, and sunscreen. By day three, it seemed like most people had figured this out, along with the names and locations of all of the stages, and the fact that getting piss drunk in the hot sun just isn't that much fun. Maybe it's just us, but Sunday at Lolla seemed way more chill, and, to that end, enjoyable. Here, the best/worst of the finale...

If day one of Lollapalooza was about Radiohead, day two was about Barack Obama, if in spirit only. Despite rampant rumors that the presidential candidate was going to show up to introduce Wilco, he never did. It almost didn't matter: Enough bands, including Broken Social Scene and Rage Against the Machine, used their mics to take up his mantra of change. "Wake up!" howled Zach de la Rocha of Rage to a field full of people who, from the looks of it, were more interested in starting the next mosh pit than inspiring a political revolution...

Day one of Lollapalooza wrapped with Thom Yorke and the rest of Radiohead crowing the lyrics to "Optimistic"—"If you try the best you can, if you try the best you can"—to a sea of people. And by a sea, I mean 75,000 crowded into Grant Park today—all seemingly buying beer; all seemingly sweating beyond the effectiveness of Secret and Mitchum. Hey, we were all trying the best we could to not have a heat stroke. Thanks for hearing us, Thom.

To that end, here are the best and worst of Lollapalooza, day one...

Once again, Lollapalooza is descending upon us. So is 95-degree weather.

I will be sending dispatches from the fest up until the point that my appendages start melting, and I am forced to squirrel away the laptop and seek air-conditioned shelter. Look, too, for a photos...

Of course, I decided to brave the line this morning, and, of course, me being me and having some sort of unlucky scarlet letter tattooed on my forehead, I ran into a "complication." Has anybody else encountered this...

Here you go: the best and worst of Pitchfork, which sits firmly atop my list of favorite local summer festivals (my other picks: the Hideout Block Party Sept. 20-21 and the African Festival of Arts over Labor Day weekend). If you didn't get to Union Park over the weekend, you missed a reunion of Public Enemy that people either loved or hated, some great up-and-coming musical talent, and a few Hobbesian moments in the mud—all of which I'll tell you about below. If you did make it to the fest, I'd love to hear your...

Everybody was supposed to be there for the fashion, but all eyes were clearly on a considerably pregnant Ashlee Simpson during a Monday morning press conference for Chicago's Fall Fashion Week. Simpson was there—front row, no less; in a long hippie dress and a simple neck scarf—to support hubby (and North Shore native) Pete Wentz, who has just opened a store in Lake View called Clandestine Industries...

In Auburn, Alabama, where I went to college, one of the best places to get fried chicken was inside a gas station off of Highway 280. The place was "country-fied" with a K and always smelled freshly mopped with Pine-Sol—a scent that I personally find revolting. But the chicken was tasty, and the Coke was cold.

In all those years that I patronized the fuel pump and the chicken fryer, I overheard lots of conversations. The unknowingly elite college students talked about their...

I rallied an office crew to the midnight premiere of Sex and the City at Webster Place, which means that right now I'm sort of fried. The movie didn't start until way after midnight, it lasted two-plus hours, and then I had to circle my 'hood desperately looking for a parking space at 3:30 a.m. It was all worth it, though, to come to the office and threaten the ladies at work with my ability to spoil the ending. Both Web editor Esther Kang and I are running on three hours of sleep, but we couldn't resist IM'ing about the film—and about the Trixies who turned out in droves. Don't worry: No spoilers here...