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Project Runway Returns, And Heidi Is Bitcher Than Ever

DAHLINGS –

Last night’s premiere of Project Runway, now in its ninth season, demonstrated that the show keeps becoming more sadistic than the season before. The opening featured 20 designers auditioning for the Fab Four: Michael Kors, Nina Garcia and her hair extensions, Heidi Klum and Tim Gunn. Seeing them in the daylight was slightly bizarre. In an industrial setting, each designer, quivering with terror, showed their garments to the panel. One poor designer’s creation caused Tim to cry out, “I AM HORRIFIED!” Who are you, and where’s Tim??

Before we had a chance to find out their names, 4 unlucky contestants got the boot, with only a few seconds of embarrassing footage to show the folks at home. It was difficult to see the logic of the judges’ picks. To be perfectly honest, they were all terrible. This season, within the opening moments, Heidi attained a level of bitchiness she could only dream about in, say, Season 6. Perhaps the plastic surgeon tightened her vagina a bit too tightly after her 25th child was born.

When it came to the eliminations, your faithful correspondent knew that Testicular Cancer Guy, Black Guy and Old Guy* would not be let go. *Old Guy is 57-year-old Bert Keeter. I fell in love with him as soon as he came onscreen. And not because he bears an eerie resemblance to Martin Sheen.

One hoped Laura Kathleen, a self-described blonde Barbie with a screeching voice, would be eliminated, but no. One prays she gets auf’d soon so that we don’t have to listen to her each week.

The remaining 16 celebrated and fell into bed. Only to be rudely awakened at 5 AM (how can Tim manage to look so impeccable at that hour? Does he sleep in a hyperbaric chamber?) for the toughest first challenge one’s seen on this show since we started watching. It was called “Come As You Are.” Each designer was brought to the work room in what they were wearing in bed, given a bedsheet, and told to create “a look” from those materials. There was the by-now standard gasp of horror from the designers. They were given hospital scrubs to spare the viewers the sight of their naked bodies. And, presumably, a great deal of caffeine.

Designer Julie Tierney looked at her garish patterned pink pajama bottoms and talked about “my vision.” Dahlings, my vision would have been blurred. Bert Keeter was using his checked boxers (how can you not love a man who wears checked boxers?). The best part was watching Tim tear into Rafael (an insufferable man) for making a boring outfit and refusing to use the colorful headscarf he was wearing. And this was the edited version. Tim walked away, saying that one had to use tough love at times. It was more like Tim cut a bitch, but whatever. Rafael earned it.

Laura asked about two other competitors, “Are they speaking foreign?” Enough about the personalities, on to the Runway!

Let me begin by saying that almost everything on the runway was so rampantly ugly one was fairly certain the judges and I would be in complete disagreement. Heidi and Michael wore their usual inscrutable expressions, Nina Garcia her usual non-expression (and a disinterested “hi” to the designers). The guest judge was Christina Ricci! I was delighted to see her, even though she seemed out of her element. And some in my viewing party thought her dress far too casual for the occasion. Heidi wore a beautiful green dress, one of the best runway show looks we’ve seen.

For the hell of it, I’ve introduced an arbitrary grading system. My blog-thing, my rules, dahlings.

  1. Anthony Ryan – the gray and black lace trimmed top wasn’t so bad, but the enormous pubic patch on both sides of the skirt…there are no words. All right, perhaps bleeeccch. D

  2. Anya – the focus had been on her much of the episode, because of her pronounced lack of experience and confidence. Which meant she wouldn’t get auf’d. A pity, because her gray silk pants were abominable, with a pronounced bulge in front that would have made Milton Berle proud (look it up). C
  3. Becky – a little aqua dress that was really quite sweet. B-

  4. BERT! Yes, I am hopelessly biased. I love love loved his gray draped dress with one bodice panel and strap made from his checked boxers! (On another note, I hope he washed them first.) A
  5. Bryce – an off-kilter long-sleeved dress. C+
  6. Cecilia – cute outfit with a coral bubble skirt B
  7. Danielle – From nightwear to loungewear, with linebacker shoulders to boot C-

  8. Fallene – How can one not like a dress that features a clown vomiting rainbows? B

  9. Joshua 1, henceforth known as Crying Joshua – UGLY UGLY UGLY ill-fitting shorts, top and something that is supposed to be a bolero hoodie but fails miserably. F

  10. Joshua 2 – my notes for this creation read “AGfly”. Not sure if that was a strangled scream or bad penmanship D
  11. Julie – Uh-oh. Her “vision” needs glasses. Garish jammies slash across the bodice with yellow above and badly made gray pants below. D

  12. Kimberly – Yes, that is a bedsheet, all right. A billowy draped bedsheet around the collar. Reminds me of childhood sleepovers. C-
  13. Laura – DAMMIT! Decent flowing pants and top. B-
  14. Olivier – Ill-fitting gray top and skirt. What is it with these designers and gray? C

  15. Rafael – Oh.My.God. What’s wrong with this outfit? What’s right with this outfit? Gray leotard leggings with an ugly seam in the front, white trapeze top flaring open at the belly, and the scarf—the scarf—used as a clumsy neck trimming. F

  16. Viktor – A sweet sporty white dress with black inserts, well-made.B+

Michael Kors was determined to bring the bon mots. He called Rafael’s scarf a “Flintstones bib.” Not sure what that means, but it’s a good soundbite. Ms. Ricci struggled to find some good in each outfit, or at least hurt the designer’s feelings. Michael Kors ripped whiny Crying Joshua a new one, who tried to throw his model under the bus. “There were fit issues.” Tell me about it.
Heidi ADORED Bert’s dress, which made me love her…until I have to go back to hating her again.

Best Three: Bert, Anthony Ryan (!), Anya (?)
Worst Three: Crying Joshua, Julie, Rafael

I simply could not believe it. The judges loved Anya’s abominable pants, when the norm is if pants aren’t perfection, the contestant gets auf’d almost before they get to the Final Six.

BERT WON THE CHALLENGE!

My guests jumped up and down, screamed, sprayed champagne (they’re paying the carpet cleaning bill) and there was merriment all ‘round. Laura K was NOT happy about Bert’s win.

I prayed that Crying Joshua would be auf’d, not Rafael. For one thing, Rafael’s hair would be fun to look at week to week. With Project Runway, these things matter. But Rafael was auf’d, while Crying Joshua wept his way into the waiting room.

Favorite line of the evening: “I haven’t gotten this pissed since I had cancer.” Interesting priorities.

That’s it for this week’s episode, dahlings. I look forward to seeing you all on Twitter.

Ciao,
Elisa

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Project Runway Season Eight Premiere, Part Two

DAHLINGS –

There is simply so much to cover in this season premiere, it had to take two posts!

When we last heard, there were 17 designers instead of the usual 16, and they had five hours to create a garment out of someone else’s piece of clothing. And this was considered an audition for the show itself; it was guaranteed that one or more of the contestants would be going home. And you just finished packing and had that big going-away party. Bummer.

We watched them sweat, freak out, etc., the usual workroom scenes, except for the small amount of time. I’m guessing that Jason isn’t going so much for a signature look with that idiotic bowler, he’s probably bald.

Now to the interesting part: the runway. What a delight to see that the Bright Orange Oracle of Fashion, Michael Kors, was in his rightful place! Next to him was Nina Garcia, who has actually started to sprout a personality. (I love how Heidi pronounces her name with a heavy inflection, the way politically correct folk in the 80s used to pronounce Nicaragua “Nee-haw- wagrah”.) Heidi was actually wearing an age appropriate dress for a change. Are the Four Horsemen here yet?
The special guest judge was actress Selma Blair. Not to worry, nobody in our viewing party could place her, either. She resembles a squinty Katie Holmes.

When Heidi came out and greeted the designers before the execution–er, runway show–the contestants were wetting themselves even more than usual. She rattled off “you’re in or you’re out” in rote fashion before the show began.

A side note: the models tonight were terrible. The way they clumped down the runway, they would make a Dior look bad.

Valerie made this eye-bleeding monstrosity from, I believe, Casanova’s Dolce & Gabbana trousers.

Afghanistan hooker dress, made of combat material w/ false blood for added piquance.

McKell fashioned a cute little number from a blue button-down shirt.

Ivy took a pair of flowered, matronly pants and transformed them into–flowery, matronly capris! Along with a sloppily made silk top that was supposed to match in some way not meant for this universe.

“Oh my God, there’s a sale at Pathmark!”
Unlike the judges, I liked Nicholas’s long gown, made out of a pleather bomber jacket, using the bottom rib trim for the neckline.
April “deconstructed” a tuxedo jacket by…well…deconstructing it, which consisted of turning it inside out. Mighty Goth there, dahling!


This dress is for when Wilma Flintstone wants to get down with her bad self.

Gretchen sent out a glamorous dress that moved well on the runway, with small beaded fringe on the shoulders. Don’t ask me what she made it out of, because I don’t care.

Jason’s dress was made from a black kimono. Although impeccably styled, the actual garment looked like a monk’s habit hastily pulled on backwards by a monk fleeing a medieval monastery.

Casanova’s “dress”, if you can call it that, was made out of a small blue blouse. Tim had tried to talk him into making something halfway less acceptable. But Casanova stuck to his guns, describing his creation as “sexy but not vulgar.” According to my notes, my first reaction was: JESUS!

Since I usually only use that word when I am actually addressing Jesus when he stops by, you can see how shocked I was. The judges agreed, and I simply cannot top the Duchess’s assessment: “a pole dancer in Dubai”. I love that neon orange bitch! Casanova’s English is terrible, so we actually got the treat of listening to Nina speak to him in Spanish. I wish she would do all of her critiques in Spanish, it’s so much more expressive. Then we wouldn’t have to hear “questionable taste” and “chic” repeated in every show.

During the commercial break, I knew that Bunim/Murray had calculated who would not go home, regardless of talent, because they are perfect reality television personalities.
Casanova ? Check. He won’t get the boot if he sends a dress made of cat turds down the runway.
Peach? Check. Not only did she make a lovely dress but she is also a lot of fun, rather like Paula Deen would be if she were sane.
Jason? With that hat? Of course. Check.
In the end, Gretchen won.

“I won, bitches!”

Poor little McKell was auf’d. But at least I don’t have to look at those dreadlocks any more.
One more thing to be grateful for: no more Models Of The Runway! If I wanted to listen to skinny ninnies babbling about nothing, I’d watch Kathie Lee and Hoda.
Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog
(all images courtesy of mylifetime.com)

Jesus, a Cheese Sandwich and Moi

DAHLINGS –

I don’t know if it’s Christmas approaching. Maybe not, because it’s not the first time this has happened.

All that I can tell you is, mes lecteurs bien-aimés, that I returned home the other night to hear my maid in the kitchen speaking in tongues.

This is not the usual sound that comes from the kitchen…the usual sounds are dishes breaking and cursing in a foreign language. Bucky was barking wildly. Yours truly had a fairly good idea of who was here.

So your faithful correspondent entered the kitchen, which, to be honest, is relatively unfamiliar territory to moi. And there I found Jesus making himself a cheese sandwich.

Bucky was in the corner, barking, the hair on his back up. Not a good sign. The last thing I needed was for my dog to sink his teeth into Christ’s ankle.

Ever since I said something nasty about people who thought Jesus Christ was on a grilled cheese sandwich that sold on (ugh) Ebay, Jesus started coming around every now and again, helping himself to my larder. And it’s almost inevitably aged diary products.

I drew myself up to my full height (Jesus is several inches shorter than I) and said, “What are you doing here, Jesus?”

“I was hungry,” he replied. It was a little hard to hear him with my maid on the floor ululating, so I pushed her out of the kitchen into the butler’s pantry and shut the door. I also shooed Bucky out of the kitchen. He growled but trotted away down the hall.

Of all the gall, showing up in my kitchen. Freeloaders, even if they are deities, work my last nerve, as the young people say. “You always have several kinds of cheese,” he added. “Tonight it’s sharp cheddar.” The toast popped out of the Dualit Combi toaster, and Jesus dropped it onto a Ming Dynasty plate.

“Do you have any Branston pickle?”

“No.” I sighed in annoyance. I folded my arms. “I have asked you not to barge in here any time you feel like it, Jesus.”

He turned and glared at me. Really, that crown of thorns was most unbecoming. At least this time he was wearing robes instead of only a loincloth. Not that he doesn’t have a nice body, but it is inappropriate anywhere but a swimming pool, in your faithful correspondent’s opinion.

“That’s MISTER Jesus to you,” he snapped. “Besides, didn’t I imprint my face on food for you to sell on Ebay?”

“It was scrambled eggs,” I retorted. “You know they don’t hold together.”

Jesus started rummaging through the cabinets above the stove. “You’re out of Marmite.”

“Why don’t you conjure some from an old packet of yeast, Mister Jesus?”

The maid was still speaking in tongues in the butler’s pantry. It is extremely irritating to listen to, but what can one expect when an uneducated woman encounters Christ in the kitchen? I’ve lost several maids that way.

At least he had made me some lovely built-ins for my office. He’s quite a talented carpenter.

“I don’t believe in God, Mister Holy Trinity, but if I did, I would DEFINITELY send in a complaint. I mean, who died and made you Savior?”

“Our heavenly father, you heathen.”

“Maybe he’s your father, but he certainly isn’t mine. I have a hard enough time coping with your existence–and there are many millions of Muslims who would agree with me. I’m not so sure about the Jews. I’ll have to ask Michael Kors.”

“I’m not getting into this argument with you again,” he said. “Watch it, or I’ll start playing with the space/time continuum. You’ll find yourself pretending to be eleven years old again.”

“Don’t bring my mother into this!” (cf. earlier entries)

“Thanks for the sandwich,” he said sarcastically, and disappeared.

After a few minutes,I yelled for my assistant to come and quiet the maid.

Thank goodness Jesus had left the building.

Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Project Runway Season Six: Morons Of The Runway

DAHLINGS –

As I mentioned in my previous post, Project Runway has definitely had an effect on my perception of fashion. I keep having this strange deja vu that the NYFW runway shows all have looks I’ve seen on PR. Maybe it’s sheer exhaustion.

However, I did watch Project Runway in the middle of the night sometime this past week, so forgive me if this summary has less precision than usual.

The challenge for the designers was to dress their models for “an industry event.” The models became clients, and quickly demonstrated why their greatest skill is walking. One model ran a string of completely unrelated adjectives to describe what she wanted to her stunned designer. I think punk was in there somewhere, and perhaps ethereal.

When my new BFF Tim Gunn told Qrystil that her brown/black dress looked like it had “rolled around in bed,” she panicked and pulled all of the brown fabric off, making a dull black dress. “Use some brown trim!” I yelled at the plasma, startling Bucky, who was dozing at my side. I knew she was doomed.

(Off topic: is there any chance Jay Leno might die? Everyone else is. He’s the right age. Beg your pardon, a random thought.)

Christopher sent a cute bright green dress down the runway, and R’amon’s dress was sweet, except for the huge corsage in the front. If the model turned her head sideways too fast, she could get a nasty paper cut on her face. Logan had to try to make a lacy 50s dress but it came out a “hot mess,” as they say.

My favorite outfits were Epperson’s brown stretch dress, and Nicolas’s white fitted dress. However, Althea won for a stiff three-piece suit with a diaper skirt. Qrystil got the auf for her black dress, even though Johnny’s purple satin looked like it had been sewn in the dark.

Where is Michael Kors?

One gathers that the follow-up, Models of The Runway, had the models wearing their creations to said industry event. Yawn.

Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Project Runway Season Six Premiere!

DAHLINGS –

I spent much of the past day trying to think of a title incorporating a pun on “meth.” Such as “Television’s Best Meth-ed” or “Making A Meth Of Things.” But one has one’s standards, and hence the title.

This refers to Johnny S., who spends much of the program (pardon the pun) proclaiming that he’s a recovering addict, having a meltdown because he’s a recovering addict, manning up to face the challenge because he’s a recovering addict, etc. It makes for some decent drama. In fact, he has a sweet scene with the ever-loveable Tim Gunn, who helps Johnny face his fears and man up. Who knew Tim was an abuse counselor as well as a fabulous man about town? What hat does this man not wear?

The new, shiny, postponed Season Six of Project Runway has everything the old Bravo Project Runway had going for it. And more sophisticated cinematography; obviously the Los Angeles influence. Sixteen designers are competing for the usual, you know the drill, mes chers amis.

The other Los Angeles influence seems to be a disproportionate amount of young, attractive designers. For instance, Carol Hannah Whitfield, a 24-year-old Southern blonde, who says “I’m not expected to have qualities like, uh, intelligence, or…lost my train of thought.” There is another vacuous blonde, Althea, and the obligatory young man with weird hair (and a deliberately misspelled name: Malvin). At first, Christopher Straub annoys with his stylistic quirk: large baseball hats worn at an angle, which give him the look of one of those “cute” little boys in 1950s sitcoms.

However, this is definitely the most multicultural mix since the series began. The tall gentleman with the dreads goes by the single name of Epperson.

From left: Malvin, Shirin, some guy, Carol Hannah, some other guy, Epperson, Mitchell with his mouth (thankfully) closed.

Ariel is the obligatory free spirit, who doesn’t sketch. This is how she creates (which is appropriate, because her dress looked like it had been pulled from her butt, pardon my non-french).

The designer who got on my nerves the most was Mitchell, who has huge yellow teeth. For some reason, whenever he was on camera all I could see were those dirty-butter colored Chiclets. Of course I immediately warmed to Qristyl, who described her style as not plus-size, but “plus sexy.” A woman after my own heart.

The challenge was to create a red-carpet look. As on the All-Star challenge, the same judges were in attendance: Michael Kors, Nina Garcia, and Heidi Klum. The guest judge was…Lindsay Lohan.

Lindsay Lohan, who is even more D-List than most of the runway audience of The Fashion Show.

The real surprise was that she had intelligent comments about the designs. Who would have thought she was capable of forming complete sentences?

Johnny’s design was terrible, and the comments it elicited all ran along the lines of: “If I imagine this as a completely different dress, it would be beautiful.” Oh, well, at least he didn’t get auf’d. He would have been on the street scoring in no time. The members of my viewing party thought that Malvin would get the boot, because he sent the model down the runway basically naked with a thin blanket of flesh-colored chiffon over her. But no; his hairdo evidently saved him.
The other surprise was that Ariel, who seemed goofy enough to keep around for a while, got auf’d for her truly horrendous design. Usually, goofiness trumps ability on Project Runway.
Christopher won for a fairly ordinary dress.

But I noticed that R’amon Lawrence’s dress is the one they copied for sale. Somehow, that switcharound is also tres Los Angeles.

And the beat goes on.

Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Project Runway Returns–On Lifetime And Los Angeles!

DAHLINGS –

My deepest apologies for not reporting this sooner, but I have been buried in creativity. However, there is important news this morning:

Project Runway is returning to television!

The warring parties have settled their differences, and Project Runway will air for the next six seasons on Lifetime. Starting with the lost Season Six, of course.

There is also to be a spinoff series, entitled Models Of The Runway. (Yes, we need yet another modeling competition show. Pardon me while I gag.) The Weinstein Company is paying NBC Universal for the right to move Project Runway to Lifetime. And (pardon me while I gag again) Los Angeles, land of the lost.

While part of me is delighted (if nothing else, for the opportunity to make fun of the contestants), another part is quite worried about the move to Los Angeles. While much of the original team, including Michael Kors and Heidi Klum are still onboard, they have filmed guest judge spots with…
Christina Aguilera?
Eva Longoria Parker?

Whatever level of good taste the show once might have had seems destined to be covered over by the Los Angeles smog. At least the Season Six designers can come out of hiding. One wonders if they’ve been holed up at that fancy hotel all of this time?

Season Six starts airing this summer–viewers, start your DVRs!

Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Project Runway Stalled On The Tarmac…

DAHLINGS –

Yes, yes, I’ll be writing about the Golden Globes, but first I wanted to let you know why we haven’t seen Season 6 of Project Runway. One can only speak for oneself, but the plasma has definitely been duller without watching Heidi Klum sink her fangs into some unsuspecting designer’s neck.

It seems that even though Season 6 has already been filmed (one imagines all of those poor designers stuck in that huge apartment building, forbidden to speak to anyone); Bravo’s parent, NBC Universal and Lifetime are battling over who gets to put it on the air. A judge rejected Lifetime’s request to bring the case to federal court.

So it will not be airing any time soon, mon cher readers. I will keep you posted. In the meantime, I hope dear Michael Kors is keeping himself well-stocked in Man-Tan!

Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky The Wonderdog