I want my own fashion line. If someone like Heidi Montag gets her own fashion line, then c’mon. Me too.

I know what you’re thinking. Who’s Heidi Montag?

You can be forgiven for thinking this, because Heidi Montag isn’t actually famous. Oh, she’s known in some circles, certainly, but not for anything like talent, skill, smarts, accomplishments or gifts. She’s known, to borrow the phrase, for being known, and in Orange County, where Montag is based, being known is a Very Big Deal.

How big of a deal? Big enough that her fellow Orange County socialite Lauren Conrad has her own fashion line, too. Who’s Lauren Conrad, you ask? Ah. And so it starts all over again.

For the uninitiated, Montag and Conrad are both reality-show “stars,” having lived together in the same apartment on The Hills, an MTV reality spin-off of Laguna Beach: The Real Orange County, which itself was an MTV reality series riding the coattails of The O.C. That both girls, on such flimsy credentials, have struck clothing deals is evidence of the celebrity clothing line ballooning into a completely wheezing heap of narcissistic saturation.

Of course, no one expects that these fake famous people do any of the actual designing of clothes; most just nod approval and lend their name value. But the names are getting weaker, and if trends continue, the “anyone can have a clothing line” idea will force the post&–Project Runway fashion industry, like the music industry of the last 10 years, to rethink its model. Whereas the dominant consciousness in the music industry now favors the underdog, fashion is still elitist, because fashion is, by its nature, for the elite.

That’s all changing.

Remember how completely absurd it seemed when, in the cultural innocence of 1997, Puff Daddy announced his own clothing line? Now the idea of Sean John seems perfectly normal—stylish, actually (disregarding for the moment Sean John’s current hit: a printed T-shirt bearing the phrase “No Bitchassness” for $30). Same thing for millionaire No Doubt frontwoman Gwen Stefani, who iconized the bare midriff while preaching girl power for those size 4 and under, and who launched her line, L.A.M.B., in 2004. The latest from L.A.M.B. features pseudo-uniform items priced up to $425; a separate line, Harajuku Lovers, named after Stefani’s subservient entourage of doting Japanese preteen girls, offers slightly less expensive attire.

There’re the hip-hop enterprises. The Wu-Tang Clan started a line, though Wu-Tang’s Method Man later condemned the decision (“I never rocked that shit,” he said of the group’s Wu-Wear in 2003). Jay-Z followed suit with Rocawear, 50 Cent with G-Unit and Eminem with Shady Designs, most of them your basic baggy hood gear. Of rappers-turned-designers, only OutKast’s Andre 3000 seems to have the vision for a truly unique brand; his line arrives in the fall.

M by Madonna debuted at H&M stores last year as a surprisingly wearable collection, with items ranging from $20 to $350. And although Third World sweatshops are fashionably vilified, homogeny blossoms: Sheryl Crow and Victoria Beckham use the same Canadian clothing manufacturer, Western Glove Works, for their separate lines. Crow’s Bootheel Trading Co., launched last month, offers rugged-looking jeans, halters and vests. Beckham’s virtually unwearable DVB jeans, which run from size 0 to 8, with smaller thighs than any other brand, retail at an average of $250 per pair.

Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen recently augmented their namesake line of tween clothing sold at Wal-Mart with an upscale line, the Row, wishfully named after London’s Saville Row, with pieces ranging from $200 to $850. Jennifer Lopez has cracked the tween market with JustSweet, the sequel to her popular and extinct J.Lo line, and Daisy Fuentes continues to sell big at Kohl’s stores, despite a sweatshop flare-up last year. Paris Hilton’s got a shoe line. “I have shoes from, like, every top designer,” she said, unveiling her collection earlier this year at Macy’s, “but I love that my shoes are not, like, $800, like most of my [own] shoes.”

Justin Timberlake, he of the Midas touch, owns a red-hot jeans line with best friend Trace Ayala called William Rast, an anagram of their respective grandfather’s names. Lance Armstrong has his 10//2 collection with Nike—named after the day in 1996 when he was diagnosed with cancer—and Queer Eye for the Straight Guy alumnus Carson Kressley sells his line, Perfect, on the QVC shopping channel.

Sarah Jessica Parker, bless her soul, has the right idea. Her Bitten line is both inexpensive and accessible, with sizes from 2 to 22 and no item priced over $20.

Sometimes all it takes is a speculative mention of a clothing launch to attract attention. Ludacris’ line, announced as C.P. Time, never came to light, and Kanye West’s announced line hasn’t either. Other celebrities who’ve made announcements but haven’t delivered: singer Amy Winehouse, Lost star Michelle Rodriguez, rapper Juelz Santana, R&B singer Usher and sex-tape fake celebrity Kim Kardashian.

Which brings us back to Orange County, to reality shows and to Lauren Conrad. Looking at Conrad’s eponymous fashion line for uniqueness is like looking at a wet pile of flour for interest. Manufactured largely with Modal, a textile used by Old Navy, the line is interesting only in its comprehensive blandness, slipping at times into unforgiving chintz.

The “Lindsay Dress” is advertised, in all seriousness, as “a muumuu with a V-neck front and thin spaghetti straps,” and Conrad’s most expensive outfit, the “Julie Jumper,” is a grotesque bunched top that sags downward and inward to unite with a pair of skimpy shorts. If the Michelin Man wearing Daisy Dukes is the girlish look you’ve been pining for, you’re only $180 poorer toward your goal. And if you’ve still got some Franklins to blow, why not go for the “Cheryl Tank,” a generic, 100 percent cotton tank top priced at $100?

Heidi Montag, Conrad’s ex-best friend and ex-co-“star” on The Hills, has publicly slammed Conrad’s line, calling it “overpriced” and “not necessarily something I would wear.” Her comments are part of a long, prosperous feud that has kept the two girls squarely in the tabloid limelight. (At press time, Montag’s Wikipedia entry had been altered so that her occupation read “whore.”) “When we were in school,” the 21-year-old said of her former fashion school classmate, “I was the designer, and she was in, like, product development.”

Launched last month at a Hollywood mall, Montag’s line is called Heidiwood and is characterized by those skanky design elements that befit someone 21 years old with a boob job. Someone like, say, Heidi Montag. Ever the entrepreneur, she’s also released a song on iTunes with exorbitantly processed vocals, and recently entered the political arena with an endorsement true to her Orange County roots. She’s planning on voting for John McCain as soon as she gets around to registering to vote.

The light blinks on with the flick of a switch. A subtle hum, almost a purr, is barely distinguishable above the sound of distant traffic.

“Is it on?” asks rocket scientist Neal Saiki. “Oh, yeah, the light is on. You’re ready to go.”

The off-road motorcycle, made especially for the loud, dirty sport of motocross, jets silently across the pavement of a business park, leaving not even a wisp of smoke in its wake—which makes sense, considering this motorcycle isn’t burning anything. It runs completely on electricity and is one of the first motorbikes of its kind to be mass-marketed by an industry professional.

Using the newest in lithium-ion-battery technology and the same aluminum alloy used in Boeing airplanes, it’s lighter and quicker than many of its competitors. It’s fast, too, capable of accelerating from zero to 60 in four seconds. All that’s missing is the stench, smoke and irritating noise of a two-stroke motor.

As if a clean, fast and lightweight off-road motorcycle weren’t cool enough, Saiki, who designed mountain bikes for Trek, Santa Cruz Bicycles and a slew of individual mountain biking pros before founding Zero Motorcycles in 2006, is convinced his new Zero-X bike will save the dying sport of motocross in California.

It may sound melodramatic, but motocross is facing a real threat in this state. As housing developments sprout up next to formerly rural motocross tracks in growing cities, dirt bikes risk being fingered as a nuisance. Eventually, the cost of police citations can become so burdensome to track owners that they shut down, leaving enthusiasts to travel long distances to find a track where neighbors won’t complain.

“On the Central Coast of California alone, six tracks have been shut down in the last two years,” says Saiki. “It’s because of the noise. Every county in California has a noise ordinance covering off-road motorcycles. So really, people have no choice but to go to silent motorcycles.”

Saiki, a self-described “outdoorsman” who received an aerospace degree from Cal Poly before going to work for NASA early in his career, gazes thoughtfully into the distance as he recalls a particularly gruesome story that convinced him it was time to release the Zero-X.

“Just last year, someone in Los Gatos hated the sound of the off-road vehicles going by their property so much they strung up a rope across the road. A rider came by and it almost ripped his head off! The guy had to get like a hundred stitches across his neck,” says Saiki. “So these riders really need this technology right now.”

The environmental benefits of an electric motorbike are obvious, but the point Saiki is fixated on is that these vehicles are just as fun as any smog-spewing, gas-powered Kawasaki. Not to mention that it costs less than the equivalent of a penny a gallon to fill up, or around $300 a year to power.

“We’re fighting against this notion that electric vehicles are slow and boring,” says Saiki. “We want to show that this thing is absolutely incredible. The lack of noise also adds a different element to the racing itself, because you can actually hear what’s going on around you and the people creeping up behind. You can hear the trash talking, so it’s a lot more fun.”

Saiki is hoping the California Department of Parks and Recreation will share his excitement. He sold three units to the department for evaluation on use for rangers—tests are starting up in the Hollister hills—and he hopes it will want more. Montana’s Department of Fish and Game also has one out for evaluation, and Zero Motorcycle’s marketing drive is just warming up. Within the next few years, Saiki expects to sell thousands of units.

Daphne Green, deputy director of the parks department’s off-highway vehicle division, hasn’t had a chance to take the Zero-X out for a spin, but says she’s excited about innovations in the off-roading industry. Along with the Zero X, her division is also testing out environmentally friendly ATVs, another electric motorcycle and some dune buggy&–like creations known as “side-by-sides.”

“We’re looking within the department to reduce our carbon footprint,” she says. “The ultimate goal, as a division, is to look at how we can work with the governor’s directive to reduce our greenhouse gas emissions. The fact that this is a local company really helps accomplish that objective as well.”

Back in the parking lot, Saiki demonstrates the tricks he’s learned on the bike so far. As he pops a wheelie and lets out a yelp of pleasure, it’s obvious he’s realized a life dream. Saiki brings the bike to a stop, a grin brightening his face.

“I’ve always wanted to do a motorcycle, but I’ve also been very involved in the electric-car movement and the broader environmental movement,” he says, adding that NASA studies he conducted convinced him electric was the answer. “It was obvious that electric vehicles are the only things that are ecologically sound and will lessen our dependence on foreign oil. The current way motocross is set up, with gas-powered pickup trucks ferrying around gas-powered motorbikes, is ecologically crazy. The Zero-X is a great way to share the environment and have fun.”