Have you recovered from all the wild ‘n’ wacky avant-garde (which means “a lovely suit to wear as FLOTUS” in French) fashion from last week? Has your heart stopped racing? Try to calm down and join me in a world of pure imagination. And by “pure imagination,” no, I don’t mean the VP debate. Hey-oooo! I mean another episode of Project Runway!
Our smack-talking designers are prepping for New York Fashion Week, which is a congregation of rich people who enjoy staring at tall, thin women, and then stealing the clothes off their backs. The queen of this activity is Anna Wintour, whose inflicted claw wounds never heal, but fester and ooze for all of time because of the evil magic contained in her One Bob. That’s why we don’t see Cheryl Tiegs around much, anymore.
The designers all got nine thousand dollars from Heidi to make their collections, but there was a catch! Only THREE would really get to show at Fashion Melee 2012, not four. It’s a race to avoid mediocrity! Melissa said, “Now it’s just me and three boys. I have to kick their ass!” I agree, for I would hate to see an all-schlong finale. Up with vaginas! (That’s like “Up With People,” but with more tampons.)
Four! Weeks! Later! We get Road Trip with Tim Gunn, in which Tim has unusual encounters with family members and apparatuses.
First, he visited Christopher in New York. Christopher was inspired by an X-ray of his mother’s, and turned it into a print. He used it in dresses and skirts to haunting and marvelous effect, like Halloween couture, but subtle. He also made what appeared to be a black, cropped jacket made of small pieces of leather riveted together with circle connectors. Completely awesome. He bleached a leather skirt to see what would happen, and was horrified at the corrosion, but Tim (and I) loved it. Of course, a smart boy would have bleached the fabric BEFORE he turned it into a garment if he was experimenting, but I’m glad he made the “mistake.” He seemed really far along in the process, much to his benefit.
Tim sat down for what he called a “caloric” tea with Christopher’s family. Christopher’s mom said he would always enter a room dramatically by pirouetting or somesuch. How else does one enter a room?
Next up: Fabio. Fabio said, “Project Runway would make my career. I don’t have one right now.” And the money ain’t bad neither. He grew up between New York and Brazil, where his mother originated from.
Fabio is calling his collection “Cosmic Tribalism.” Hmmmmmm. He showed Tim three pieces. One: the priestess, a blue “watercolor” (read: tie-dye) sky blue maxi sack dress. Two was “the number of women,” which I don’t know what that means except judging by the outfit, which appeared to be a dirty old pink sheet sewn into a house elf schmatta. “The number of women” = “downtrodden Harry Potter characters.” I guess some Cosmic Tribes are luckier than others. Tim said he was captivated by this ugly-ass bullshit. This is what I was looking at:
Seriously, this looks like the “you tried” garment I made in my first week in sewing school. Look at the center front seam on that blue pillowcase — it’s unforgivably wonky and pull-y, especially because it’s just plain cotton. No. No no no. Tim called the pant under the white thing a “long john,” and asked Fabio if he considered making it in organza. ORGANZA? I would like to know WHAT is being smoked on Cosmic Fabio Planet.
Next, we visited Dmitry. He made more of his cut-out garments, riding that winning wave, and why not. He had some beautiful pieces, but Tim asked if there was enough surprise there. Dmitry revealed that he had to quit his job to commit to the final runway show. He told Tim that ten years from now, he saw himself “rich and famous.” I think he might be right!
Tim visited Melissa in San Fran. She showed him a lovely black, silk dress, to be topped by a cropped leather jacket that had been crackle-painted white-on-black. Amazing. We couldn’t see all of it very clearly, but it looked promising, if somber. She took Tim on a boat ride, where her parents said she’d cry at Christmas as a child if she received out-of-fashion clothes. Erm.
Back in New York City, our foursome arrived to compete in one, final challenge, of course – showing three pieces to make the top three. They all smiled at each others’ collections, then trash-talked them to the camera, except for Melissa, who began to self-doubt. Christopher had a big problem with fitting his models, and had to change his game plan on what to show because he didn’t have enough alteration time.
No special judges this time – just the core three.
Dmitry’s first look was his cut-out special, done in a white, V-neck shift dress shape. Just beautiful. Not new, but beautiful and gorgeously made. I loved his second look, although I won’t be wearing it to the office anytime soon. Sheer flack flutter-sleeve top with some serious metal hardware in a V-shaped bib at the neck, over top a black, strapless bra. The pants were cream with a stripe in the front done slightly darker, coming to points and a ninety-degree angle at the waist. Edgy and sexy without being trashy. His third look also featured a sheer top and bra combo, with a black-and-white patterned jacket over top with black, fringed sleeves. The skirt was straight, in what appeared to be black silk. This one is not my cuppa, for I think fringe is always the wrong choice, unless you’re a flapper. Number three was just too much, really.
Nina said it looked polished and expensive, but that he could push himself more on the styling. Kors said it was a bit too much with too many ideas. He said he thought the styling took it to an “old” place. They said he needed to separate his wow pieces and pair them with less-so looks.
Christopher’s first look was a snooze. Black leather vest (bleached), black shorts, and a cream see-through top with a black bra underneath. Blah. I’m a little shocked that this is even a look in the collection, much less one of the THREE you’re showing to make it to fashion week. The vest did have a nice ruffle in the back. His next look also featured shorts (!?) – black, leather ones with an ostrich waistband. A V-neck, sleeveless top in the brown X-ray pattern topped them. The back of the blouse was nonexistent, but had a chain-necklace that looked gorgeous and sexy. Why would you even bother with the first look, when you had this one? Last came a black leather bustier (distressed with bleach) and the X-ray straight skirt. The whole thing was cohesive, but really lacked the wow I think he needed.
Heidi wanted a major wow piece (see? told ya). She said he should not send the first look at all down the runway at Fashion Week. Kors said to turn up the volume, and to mix it up so that it doesn’t turn banal. Nina said she was surprised that it was all so dark, and that she saw very few clothes. She was worried that he’d have no clothes.
I don’t even know what to say about Fabio’s Cosmic Tribalism. It looked to me like a 1980s hippie cult vomited on a pastel bedding store. This “draped blazer” we saw first looks like a useless vest to me, and we all know how I love those. He borrowed it from Dorothy Zbornak’s closet, and paired it with a shitty blue cloth bra (bustier my ass) and some beige pants. His “artisinal” necklace came from a Debbie Gibson video. The second look was not quite so horrifying – a light purple straight skirt paired with a cream cropped top. The back of the blouse was shredded and flapping and I know some dig this look, but it screamed “Urban Outfitters” to me and I frowned. His last dress I’m calling “I can’t with this shit.” A pink bed sheet with a pointy necklace that appears to be made of the plastic webbing you use to put a firm bottom in DIY purses. This was a sack with an awkwardly-placed slit in the front, paired with hoof booties that are unnecessary when the cult leader tells you to join the orgy. The back was a giant, sideways drape that looks like it feels when my nightgown gets tangled up in the sheets. Oh, and he put all the moddles in BOWL HAIRCUTS. This entire thing is what happens with hipsters attack.
I hated, hated, hated this. Maybe I’m being too subtle. I predict he will go to fashion week. Heidi said she felt like she hadn’t seen it before – a schlumpy, cool vibe. Kors liked the tension between the sweet colors and the cool vibe. And at least he used color. Nina said some were pieces beautiful (the vest), but that the rest needed to look more expensive and less junior. She said the conceptualized looks need to be elevated.
Her first look appeared to be actual clothing and not hippie jizz, so that was nice. A cowl-neck black silk blouse that came open over the tummy, paired with white, mesh shorts. Not my style, but it was sexy and cool. Her next look featured skinny black pants with a terrifyingly droopy crotch. The jacket was gorge, though, crackled white with an asymmetrical, over-sized black collar and turn-up cuffs. She called her last look “the obsidian dress,” a black, sleeveless shift number with a high collar that we’ve totally seen before.
Heidi called it Goth and very “her.” She said the jacket was the hero. But again, she got dinged for not sending her best out. Kors asked her if she had enough for a fashion SHOW? He said her wigs were “crazy ugly.” Low-rent Joan Jett to my eyes. Nina was worried about an all black and white collection (she does have one red piece). She said there was a sense of coolness about it. She also said to just cut off the cuffs of that jacket.
What I want to know is…
WHY DID NO ONE SEND A GOWN DOWN THE RUNWAY?
WHY DID NO ONE SEND A GOWN DOWN THE RUNWAY?
WHY DID NO ONE SEND A MOTHER FUCKING GOWN DOWN THE RUNWAY? HAVE THEY NEVER ACTUALLY VIEWED THIS SHOW BEFORE?
I feel like I’ve spent this entire season wanting to shake them all, screaming “just be BETTER!” Sorry, but I just don’t think there’s a breakout genius in this bunch, with the possible exception of Dmitry, who also rested on his laurels here. At least Fabio was out there, even if the result was awful and creepy. Nina gave them all a little lecture about this blah stuff they turned out, and I totally agreed. Perhaps they should have invited Joey Biden to swing by and make some clothes – at least he brought the pain last night.
The odd person out in this fearsome foursome was …
NO ONE. Everyone was so equally snore-worthy, the judges just said “meh” and gave up.
Which is what I’m going to do now.
Meh. Meh, I say!
What say you?