By the pricking of my smize, something silly now arrives! It’s America’s Next Top Model, sponsored by Cover Girl. Cover Girl – the makeup company that enthusiastically uses ANTM winners according to its most basic contractual obligations (TM).
Housekeeping note: It’s still me, blog friends, but BrutallyHonestBabes will henceforth be known as Miss Worded ’round here. It’s a pun. Get it? Got it? Good! Now, on to the moddle-ing!
Our final four models are still in Morocco, to the great happiness of the Moroccans, I guess.
After Ms. J. Alexander gave them secret portfolios (probably their modeling portfolios, but I would like to pretend they were Tyra’s undercover plans to take over the government using nothing but models, fierceness, and un peu de drekitude), the final four shuffled on over to tea with Franca Sozzani, Editor in Chief, Vogue Italia. Ms. Sozzani is very important to the moddles, for the winner of ANTM will star in a spread for Vogue Italia, and maybe other shoots in the future! Ha ha, not really. Vogue Italia only enthusiastically uses ANTM winners according to its most basic contractual obligations.
Franca told the final four to use their personalities to overcome any self-perceived flaws. I do that, sometimes. I use humor to draw attention away from the fact that I’m a Hobbit. It’s not the height that matters to me so much, it’s the lack of cute footwear for my furry feet. And it’s really difficult to find round doors.
After Franca looked at their modeling portfolios, the models met a lady with a tragically flat head.
Because of her useful pate shape, this lady, Noor Talbi, is a Moroccan Tea Tray Dancer. As Voldemoddle said, “It was… very cultural.” Yes, Alexandria. It’s “cultural.” What witty powers of observation you have at your disposal. You should be a tour guide for Marrakesh. Come to Marrakesh! Where the strange people are… very cultural.
Ms. J advised: if one drops a tea tray, one should still stay fierce. I am sad to report that many tea trays lost their lives in the making of this episode. I am sadder to report that many fierces died as well.
Voldemoddle kept her tea-tray dancing classy, adding a “cultural” bump and grind and chanting, “Yeah yeah yeah yeah.”
The models were told that they would be performing their tea tray “dances” (a.k.a. dropping and clanging and saying curse words) in front of a live audience later that night. They got pretty “cultural” outfits, too: spangly bras and flowy, also spangly, skirts. I assume the cleavage and thigh-high slits are to distract the audience from all the tray dropping.
When they arrived at the challenge, they found out that they’d have lit candles on their trays! I guess Ms. J. figured that the last challenge with fire was disappointing in its lack of Joan-of-Arc style theatrics, so he’d give the moddles another chance to singe themselves. After all, they don’t call it “trial by tea tray” – they call it “trial by fire.”
Molly was the first to try, and the first to trip. I don’t know what she said as she splatted fantastically, but there was a fair bit of graying out her mouth. I will assume she said, “fart-chomping armpit shitbuckets!” That’s what I would have said. Brittani did very well. Noor said of Brittani, “She didn’t fall down her tray.” Noor’s broken English is way sexier than my normal English, probably because I say things like “fart-chomping armpit shitbuckets.” Voldemoddle did spectacularly, right up until the moment when she dropped the whole thing. Twice. But she kept smiling, which is important. As Mother Teresa once said, “If you ever find yourself carrying trays of beverages and fire on your head, keep smiling. Praise Jesus.”
Brittani was the winner, for shimmying but not shitbucket-ing. She won a runway-walking lesson with Ms. J., and elected to share the prize with Hannah.
After the runway lesson, the final four went to the suk to get some chow. They found a stall that sold eyeballs and brains. (McZombies is a popular place in Marrakesh.) Hannah called it “authentic.” I can only assume it was “cultural,” too. Several local gentlemen delighted the ladies by eating eyeballs with relish. Relish as in “liking or enjoyment of the taste of something,” not as in “a green condiment.” Then the moddles sampled the brains themselves. Brittani described the texture of a brain as “squishy and chewy and gross.”
Strange things began to happen next. Hannah, an ominous gleam in her eye, seized Molly’s head and stroked her hair away from her brow. Voldemoddle crouched next to one of the nearby men and licked her lips. Despite her protestations, Brittani scooped more brains into her mouth, until she could stuff no more and the gray matter leaked onto her trendy blouse. Molly turned toward the camera with a snarl. The last shot of the episode showed her leaping toward the lens with inhuman speed. The picture went black, but the death-screams of the cameraman lasted for several minutes.
The next day, the final four
zombies models returned to the Medina (or suk) for their photo shoot. I can only assume with a new camera person. The photos would feature clothes by designer Daniela Issa Helayel. She’s dressed Kate Middleton. Not for Kate’s wedding, unfortunately, but you can’t win them all. Friedemann Hauss, their photographer, told them to immerse themselves in the local culture. Excellent! They were already very good at “cultural,” as well as “authentic.” If their shoot also involved devouring the slow and unarmed, then all four should perform very well.
Hannah went for a sexy/ethereal sort of vibe, and it didn’t work at all. She looked like a lost elf. Molly did very well, and enjoyed the people who stood around watching the shoot. She didn’t realize they were all there to quash the
zombie model revolution, which is probably just as well. Everyone struggled with getting Voldemoddle to relax and let go of her control. Molly (tummy full of delicious, nutritious brains) did excellently, especially for shooting in the rain, which zombies models don’t like.
Molly got best photo at panel, for wowing the judges and showing off the clothes without looking *gasp* catalog about it.
Brittani got runner-up for best photo… which means that Voldemoddle and Hannah fell into the bottom two. Voldemoddle because she clings to control like a house elf to his pillowcase. Hannah because she lacks control – her face and her body have no idea what’s going on at any given moment.
So who stayed in the competition?
As Hannah’s name was called, a silence fell over the world. Voldemoddle had been vanquished at last. Tyra stepped forward, the seventh and final horcrux sitting innocently in her perfectly-turned hand. Voldemoddle started, horror dawning across her sharp features. In one motion, Tyra threw the horcrux (an owl locket from Forever 21) onto the parquet floor and smashed it asunder with the spike heel of her boot. A scream issued forth from the very bowels of Voldemoddle’s bowels. Or her vocal cords. Whatever. The pure, heavenly light of God split the demon
zombie model in twain. Her limp, defeated carcass fell to the floor as the other models danced (without tea trays on their heads). Andre Leon Talley moonwalked across the now-smoldering ashes of She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and Nigel Barker, Noted Fashion Photographer, read a passage from Mother Teresa’s biography, in which the esteemed nun was quoted as saying, “Yea, blessed are the ones who out-model evil, for they shall inherit a contract with IMG Models. Praise Jesus.”
In all seriousness, at the last Alexandria made a very graceful exit, saying something about learning lessons and whatnot. I wish her well. Not around me, but I wish her well somewhere.
The final THREE are Molly, Brittani, and Hannah!
WHO WILL WIN???????????????????????
I know you’re waiting with bated breath! No? Slightly-irregular breath? Come on, humor me!