I need to apologize in advance, but the RLA came home just as the show was starting and he was in a chatty mood, so I missed the first five minutes of dialog. Then he settled down and I only missed things sporadically throughout.

OPEN: INTERIOR: DAY

We’re with the girls and Sweet P is really happy that it was Ricky who got the axe last week, and not her. She was also really surprised that it happened that way, because she was sure that she’d be packing her bags. Oh, the sweet sting of foreshadowing. And then the RLA started talking and the only thing that shut him up was the vision of Heidi in a really big wig and cute dress, coming out on the runway to do model selection.

Chris keeps his model and there is no muthafuckin’ walk-off. Heidi tells the designers that there will be one final field trip, one final challenge and then two of them will be auff’ed tonight. Oooooooo. Drama. The field trip will be to 5th Ave. and 82nd Street, and I immediately get my East Side/West Side dyslexia and chirp: Oh! Are they going to Bloomingdale’s? And the answer is no, idiot, they are going to the Met.

On the steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art the designers meet Tim and Miz Shoes gets all twitterpated, because in the background is a banner for the Poiret show down in the Fashion Basement. But alas and alack, this is not to be.

The designers enter the Greek and Roman Sculpture Gallery and Rami of the Heavenly Arms and Totally Stank Attitude gets a full-on draping chubby. They are completely alone in the museum, well, except for Tim and the camera crew, and Tim explains the challenge. We have chosen three galleries to open for you: The Greek and Roman Sculpture Gallery, the European Paintings and the Temple of Dendur. Take your cameras; photograph things that inspire you. Pick one item and use it to create a couture vision. You have x amount of time. (Sorry, the RLA was yapping, so it was half an hour or 45 minutes.) Predictably, Rami doesn’t even leave the Greek and Roman statuary. He comes up to a sculpture of Aphrodite (sans head) and declares that it is a “soulmate situation” and that he need look no further. This is his love, his life, his inspiration, his schtick. OK. Maybe he didn’t say the last one.

In the European paintings, Christian, Chris, Sweet P and Jillian all find their directions. Christian is inspired by a portrait of a Spanish something or other. He says that it is a military portrait, but I don’t see that. I just see black and severe and nobleman. I can understand why it drew him in, and it certainly had a lot to work from. Chris is drawn to a French portrait of a noblewoman in pewter and oyster-colored satin. It, too, has a great deal of drama and could be the starting point of something big.

We next see the designers in the Temple of Dendur , and none of them, in Miz Shoes opinion, is suitably impressed. I was at the Temple when it opened for the King Tut exhibit. It’s outrageous. You have these enormous windows overlooking the park, letting in all this light, and you have an entire Egyptian temple/tomb that was lifted up out of the Valley of the Kings and set down in the middle of Manhattan, two or three stories up. People. Get a fucking grip. This is where you should have been taking pictures. Instead, we get Chris making a joke about Joan (Crawford or Rivers, I missed it thanks to the happy commentary the RLA was delivering on the other end of the couch) scratching her name on one of the pillars when she was a little girl.

I HAVE YOUR PICTURE

Back at Parsons, we get to see the designers’ choices. Chris’ painting he thinks looks like Zorro. I suppose. Rami has his draped Aphrodite, P has chosen a painting of a peacock, and has some yummy satins in ocher, teal and a rusty red, along with a muted print that contains all of those colors. It’s yummy, yes, but it isn’t saying peacock to me.

Jillian has chosen a military painting, too. Hers is the Master of the Argonauts, and it’s one of those great early Renaissance pieces where something historical is painted in the clothing style of the period and the patron is inserted as one of the main characters. When I was in college, I always wanted to paint a crucifixon, with a graduate student on the cross, and all the professors as the centurions and onlookers, in totally modern garb.  But I digress. Jillian has fastened on to a man in a black coat, brocaded in gold, seated on horseback. She’s going to make a coat. Are you shocked?

Rami is draping the hell out of some purple fabric. Ho. Hum. Jillian is pressing pleats for three hours. Christian is giving her shit for it. They are over each other in a big way. P asks Jillian for help in drafting her neckline and Jillian sweetly tells her that at this stage of the competition, honey, you need to be doing it your own self.

 

So she does. And the models come in for fitting, except for P’s because she’s having some sort of personal crisis. Hey, unless you get hit by a bus, ain’t nothing should be keeping you from Parsons. Bitch. Jillian’s model is doing some weird new-agey hand jive to send her peace, tranquility and the winning lottery numbers. Where’s Elisa? Christian is creating an entire collection around his idea: giant, puffy shirt, cropped little jacket (SHOCKING!) and tight pants. In black. It’s just so totally like nothing he’s ever done before, right?

Rami just keeps draping shit and saying over and over and over that just because his design isn’t screaming and loud, doesn’t mean it isn’t fabulous. No. The fact that it’s just the millionth variation on the same old theme is what makes it less than fabulous.

Christian trash talks Chris for doing something so evocative of the design they did together. Jillian has finished her jacket (not an Apocalyptic Trench Coat, but a short, fitted jacket with a peplum and some fancy cutout in the back over the nipped waist). OK. OK. It’s really nice. There. Are you happy now? I said it was nice. Of course, her dress isn’t even started.

The L’Oreal Make Up Guy, Collier Strong, comes in to do the makeup look with the designers. Eyes. Eyebrows. Big hair. Androgeny. There are four hours left till the end of the day. P still hasn’t seen her model and is in a panic. Chris is happy with what he’s got and goes off to take a nap. Christian dissses him for that. We get to see Chris sleeping and snoring on the sofa in the break room. Nice, editor guys. Make fun of the fat, snoring person. It’s not like a person can help it if they snore, you know. Miz Shoes is just a little defensive about the snoring thing. Christian expounds on his history: Alexander McQueen, Vivienne Westwood, blah blah, I’m so European in my aesthetic, blah blah.

Tim arrives and has a minor stroke at finding Chris asleep. You can’t be done! Is it wowable? SHOW ME!!! And then he pokes a hole in Chris’ confidence, or at least tries to, and tells him to add more shit and at the same time, make the garment more refined. Chris owns it, but Tim’s worried.

Tim then rounds on Christian, and questions the mini-cape-jacket thing. “Is it an obfuscation? In term of cohesion? Does it make sense?” Christian assures Tim that it does make sense, that he has created a look out of separates.

P is the next designer under the Gunn, and is told to make it more exuberant, more apparent that it’s a peacock. Jillian has produced yet another fine looking jacket and needs to do a lot more work before she is ready for the runway. Which leaves…Rami, who says that his dress is stunning. Tim, however, reminds Rami that NinaGarcia is going to pass out from boredom if she sees another draped schmata from him. Rami says, hey! You people gave me the challenge and put me in the museum with Greek and Roman sculptures of togas. What do you want? I’m a draping junkie. Don’t ask me to put down the draping. I need the draping. Or, at least, that’s what I heard.

With two hours to midnight, P’s model wanders in. The dress fits, but there is still so much to do. Wah. They all go home.

SHOWTIME

It’s the morning of the runway and Christian is making sure that his hair is extra fierce and fabulous. This involves random blow drying and ironing. Meh. Back to Parsons, where P dashes straight to her sewing machine. Jillian and Rami discuss how and if they will kick ass today. Tim tells them all that they need to bring the magic! Knock NinaGarcia’s shoes clear across the runway! Make it work! Rally!

Jillian engages in a little smack talk about Christian’s “marshmallowy” poufy, extravaganza of organza. Chris says that going to Bryant Park would be like winning the lottery, and he’s not counting on it, but he’s not counting it out, either. Way to be decisive there, big guy. Jillian has a nervous breakdown regarding a broken iron that won’t steam, and then tries to steam her garment right on her model. Nice. She also cuts the hem on her model and then panics a little more because the hem looks like crap. P’s model has feathers in her hair. P is cutting threads. Everyone is nervous.



Heidi is on the runway, looking as amazing as ever. Sigh. I think I have a little bit of a girl crush on Heidi. The guest judge tonight is Roberto Cavalli. Wow. He requires sub-titles.



Chris’ giant collar and drapery and bows comes out. Then Christian’s over the top androgynous black and white. The hat on his model comes down all the way to the middle of her nose. So much for her exaggerated eyebrows. Rami’s draped grape. P’s sorta cool dress which is hardly haute, and not couture. Jillian’s sharp looking jacket comes off to reveal a mini-toga in gold lame.

Cavalli is impressed with Christian. He knows how to show. He is impressed with the whole male/female play. He loves when the jacket comes off to show the puffy shirt.

Cavalli is more impressed with Chris. He flat out says to Chris that he is the most artistic of the five designers. I can see you in Paris doing haute couture. The other judges are all, Meh. Seen it. Roberto stands by his statement, and praises Chris once more. HAH! Take that!

NinaGarcia says of Jillian that she consistently surprises in a good way. Cavalli offers her a position on his staff. Jillian says she’d be honored…because being on Ralph Lauren’s staff is a shit job, right?

Cavalli is disappointed in P. It is too commercial. This is what you put in your showroom, not on the runway.

And Rami of the Totally Stank Attitude and yet still Heavenly Arms gets his drapery handed to him on a pita bread platter. Too normal, says Cavalli. Kors expected more, not more predictable draping. NinaGarcia wanted to see him come out of his box.

The designers are sent backstage and the final confabulations take place. Jillian gets more praise for her jackets. Christian is seen as having the whole package: he can give you an over-the-top, emotional piece for the runway and turn it into a workable, real life garment. The judges agree that for an obnoxious and still green little twit, the boy has some serious and enviable style chops.

P can make dresses that every woman would want to wear. This is called damning with faint praise.

The other judges want to toss Chris out for doing the same outrageous collar that they saw in the couture challenge, but Roberto is having none of that. I saw ART, he states. He is my number one. He has drama in his blood, admits NinaGarcia, grudgingly. He IS a showman. And Cavalli just says again, that this, my friends, is real couture, drama and fashion. Ppppbbbbbbttttt.

Rami can drape and make a technically good design. But he doesn’t take risks. So.

THE ENVELOPE PLEASE

Christian wins, and (although it hurts to admit it) rightfully so. Jillian and her never-ending series of coats and jackets, is in. P, although the judges love her and believe in her talent, is out. So. Rami has consistently safe and well-made work. Chris brings the dram llama, but he did the same thing twice, and the judges wanted to see change. Not so much change that they ever said anything even once to little Princess Puffy Sleeves. She of the fierce, cropped, ruffled and slightly leg-o-mutton sleeved jackets.

Although they would rather he not be, Chris is in. (Thank you Mr. Cavalli.) But, since Cavalli wouldn’t budge on Chris, and the other designers wouldn’t budge on Rami, there is a deadlock. Both Rami and Chris will go off and produce a line, and when they all get back to New York, the judges will look again, and see who gets to have a real show, and who gets to be a decoy.

Miz Shoes is a little disgruntled about this, but thrilled that Chris gets a show, one way or another. Next week? Reunion, and everybody talks smack to each other’s face. Good times.

And let me say right now, that the results of this are pathetic.

The 123 Rules:

  1) Pick up the book nearest you with at least 123 pages. (No cheating!)

  2) Turn to page 123.

  3) Count the first five sentences.

  4) Post the next three sentences.

  5) Tag five other bloggers.

Here goes:

Blog Design Solutions

On a typical site, you might then assign a template groups to a particular section, or weblog.

Upon install, a blog caled weblog1 is already created for you. It will contain one sample article and three sample categories, and you write your entries using basic entry fields.

So, now I have to tag five other bloggers, huh? OK.

1. RJ

2. Solonor

3. Dancing Brave

4. Miss Bliss

5. R80o

Really. And the best part? Page 123 is actually in the section for which I purchased the book; the chapter on Expression Engine by the delightful and erudite Simon Collison. Whee.

But there was no need to wonder how far off, because the windows were open and we could smell the sizzle and ozone. Lightning! Thunder! Pounding rain! I love Florida weather.

When I was in college, my dorm had a patio between the two wings, so even though it was on the 7th floor, and open, it wasn’t exposed. It faced east, and late at night when the thunderstorms would roll in from over the bay, I’d go out on the patio and sit in the cool and the mist and watch G*d’s own light show. Those are some of my fondest memories of the University of Miami. It wasn’t the same campus as it is now. There were more open spaces, and yet, less landscaping and lushness. The coral pit over by the art department was surrounded by banyan trees, and filled with ferns. Rumor had it that satanic rites took place down there, but the truth was it was just a great place to smoke dope between classes. If you didn’t mind the mosquitoes eating you alive down in the cool, damp shade.

In the past couple of years hurricanes wreaked depredation on the pit, and now it is a sunny, albeit sunken, rock garden with a park bench. The enormous royal poincianas were also taken down, and the old wooden art department is itself an empty and condemned hulk. Sad. The hours and hours I spent in darkrooms, weaving studios and the life drawing classes in that old building are the heart and soul of my college experience. The friendships I made, the professors who had the most impact on my life, they all were connected with that building.

Even my husband, the Renowned Local Artist, and I first met and became friends there. I’d go to his studio and watch him paint. We’d share books. He gave me Dahlgren, which I hated. I gave him Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, which he stole.

Amazing how much memory a single flash of lightning can unleash.

For the past twenty years, I have referred to my ex-husband only as The Anti-Christ. There were and are many, many reasons for this. He was verbally and emotionally abusive. He was a border-line sociopath. He was a man who, as my father of blessed memory was wont to say, would rather climb a tree to tell a lie, than stand on the ground and tell the truth. We were married for four years and it took another two to complete the divorce because he played the system like a fucking Stradivarius. I have never used his name because I was afraid that, like Beetlejuice, it would cause him to appear in my life, and that was not something I wanted. Ever.

He has a public reputation as an honest man, and a good man. This is the opinion of people who only know the public facade. They weren’t there to see him kick me under the table when I said something he didn’t like. They weren’t there when he told me that if sex was something I wanted in a relationship, I should take a lover and leave him alone. They weren’t there the night our home was broken in to, and I arrived home while the mud was still wet on the floor, and he wouldn’t come home to help with the police report or calm my fears because it was the night he was getting inducted into Iron Arrow, and what would people say if he didn’t go to the football game to be presented with the other inductees at half-time.

Last week karma caught up to him. I don’t know anything about this case, only plenty about the man. He is guilty as charged, no matter what happens in court.

Are you ready to rumble?  What I wouldn’t give to be in New York City this month. First we had Fashion Week, and tonight and tomorrow it’s the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show. Last year a PBGV won the hound group and almost had an upset win for Best in Show. Almost.

Tonight is opening night, and as always, I’ll be on the couch with my Jack Russell and my PBGV and we’ll just be going crazy for the doggies.

OPEN: MORNING: INTERIOR

Morning at the girls’ apartment and Jillian is telling Sweet P that Fashion Week absolutely cannot be an all-boys affair. The girls must gird loins and be fabulousness incarnate to the death.

Over in the boys’ cabana, Christian is holding forth, as usual about what a tragedy that rag of Ricky’s was, and how his ruffle wasn’t even seamed, but attached. Quel horror!

With the introduction out of the way, we are whisked to the runway where Heidi is her usual dazzling self in a little cocktail dress.  There are models, there are choices. Ricky stays with his stupid little twee hat and his girl, the other model is sent away. Heidi asks if the designers are ready for their next challenge. They cautiously say yes. Heidi laughs and tells them ain’t that a shame, because the challenge ain’t ready for you. See you tomorrow. Have a nice day.

We meet the designers the following morning in the workroom. Tim sweeps in and tells them they are going on yet another field trip. Christian demands that it be someplace fabulous and fierce. Tim assures him that it will be. They go downstairs to the runway auditorium.

RING AROUND THE ROSIE RAG

Loud noises, banging, thumping, and screams. P describes them thusly: Crazy war noises…Scary, killing people noises. Rami and Jillian are also leery. Christian calls the racket “sex moans.” Miz Shoes, in all her years, has never heard any sex noises like that, unless it came from a particularly large cat in heat , tossing garbage cans and pursued by an even larger, and possibly rabid, raccoon. Miz Shoes wonders anew about our little Christian.

The doors are thrown open and we see: The Divas of the WWE. Chris, with admirable sang froid, says that there are six women, wrestling, pulling hair, kicking…pretty great, actually. And he snickers.

The women introduce themselves, and explain their professional wrestling personas. There is Maria, who is rock-glam. There is Layla, who is a pretty limber dancer/wrestler, as she shows off a very high kick. There are two girls who claim to be the girl next door, and another who is a sex kitten, but “classy”.

The challenge will be to design something for each of these women to wear in the ring.  The designers get to chose who they want to design for. Ricky goes first and picks the dancer. P gets the classy sex kitten. Jillian and Rami take the girls next door. Maria goes to Chris, and Christian takes the girl whose schtick escapes me, but seems to be another sex/rock/glam thing.

Christian’s girl tells him she likes leather and lace, and he is transported immediately into a world of leather chaps with lace cutouts. This is a pairing made in one of the nether regions of heaven. Ricky is all about a one-piece with ruching, and I see the lipstick on the wall.  Chris and his wrestler are another pair. He likes leopard, she like leopard. He likes over the top trannies, she may be one. It’s all good. P is a little overwhelmed by her wrestler, whose whole gimmick is the “robe and reveal”… what ever that may be, but it does come up several times in the episode. It seems to be her signature move: come out into the ring covered up in a big ole robe, and whip it open to reveal…her wrestling onesie. Sparkly and over the top is what her model wants, much to P’s chagrin.

Rami has chosen Barbie-On-Acid magenta/pink spandex for his Girl Next Door Wrestler, and acknowledges that the color is a love it or hate it, make or break with the judges, but that he’s sure he can drape a pair of hot pants that they’ll love.

Christian tells P that her outfit looks like “tranny ice cream” and he’s not sure about the feather boa. P isn’t sure either, but once more she grimly faces the confessional-cam and says that she’s not letting a trailer-trash aesthetic take her out.

KUNG-FU FIGHTING

Day two opens with Jillian dropping her mannequin with a single kick-boxing move. Who knew? Chris is just happy as a tranny in Cher drag over this challenge and is sewing along with his sparkly black spandex and green leopard skin. His vision is “animal in a cage.”

All of a sudden, P realizes that she hasn’t arm wrestled anyone yet. How could this be? She calls out to Christian “Come over here you skinny little twit,” and the two of them get down to some arm wrasslin. In the biggest shock of the episode, he beats her, and then says to the room that “I’m a beast you guys, you just don’t know…” No, but calling the noises of six women in an open ring free for all “sex moans” should have been the first tip.

Tim brings in the models for a fitting and Chris and his model are locked in a love fest over the leopard and black shiny stuff. Christian and his model are equally enraptured with the lace cutouts in her pleatherette chaps. Predictably, he makes her a little jacket with puffy sleeves to go over the top. In more ways than one. But, she loves it. Christian tells us that: “it’s really kinda amazing? She’s rilly fierce, and I’ve met some fierce bitches.”

P’s model, however, is less than thrilled with P’s work. She complains that it is no more than what she could find at any old Strippers Am Us. She wants star-shaped cut-outs over the ass, she wants more, more, more rhinestones and sequins. She wants it all, and she wants it all in one outfit.

Ricky is making a one-piece bathing suit out of orange lycra, with gold braided straps and gold o-rings. Tim is less than blown away. In fact, his jaw is hanging a bit slack in disbelief. He manages to say merely that he is “worried” and “concerned”.

Ricky asks Christian for a snap. Miz Shoes kind of expected Christian to give Ricky a big hand circle finger snap, but he gives Ricky the little fastener he asked for, all the while confessionalizing that he didn’t want to, but Ricky’s piece is just a bathing suit and sucks so bad anyway, what’s the dif. Let him hang hisownself. Tim says that Ricky’s piece looks a little Wonder Woman. Chris looks up from his work station with a look that clearly says, Oh, doesn’t Ricky just wish it did.

Tim tells Rami that the color he’s chosen is iffy, and that he’d hate to see it be Rami’s downfall, but Rami just rolls his eyes and thinks, like that’ll happen. Over at P’s mannequin, Tim is telling her that the bra top looks unrefined and the whole ensemble sort of reeks of Eva Gabor in “Green Acres” and that he really doesn’t want to see her get sent home, either. At all. In fact, Tim shows a great deal of concern and personal affection towards P. Now P’s crying and saying that she isn’t giving her client what she wants because what she wants is criminal, and yet, what she is giving her, the judges are going to hate anyway, and that she is stuck between a rock and a hard place. Actually, what she says is that she’s stuck in a Catch-22, and Miz Shoes wonders if P or anyone else in that room (other than the excellent Tim Gunn) have even read Catch-22.

Chris indulges in a little bitchy back stabbing as he asks about Rami’s hot pink micro shorts, “What are the judges going to say? What can they say? What is Nina Garcia going to say about hot pink spandex pants?” And then he collapses into giggles over the whole concept.

The models come in for their last fitting. P’s girl wants more rhinestones. Christian’s girl is thrilled with her S&M chaps. Chris’ girl calls hers a Superhero outfit. Miz Shoes shudders to imagine what that super power might be, but thinks cracking coconuts between her thighs might play into it somewhere. Ricky’s girl shows off an orange bathing suit with a sequined mini-tent cover up.  Jillian is showing off an electric blue and white strappy thing that’s actually quite good, as rock and roll wrestling clothes go. Rami’s model is happy with her Barbie pink outfit and Jillian is still sewing as Tim calls everyone to the runway.

The guest judges this week are Richie Rich and Traver Rains of Heatherette. The RLA kept asking who and what, exactly they are, and what, exactly their line looks like and has he ever seen anyone wearing it. Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask and no.

ROLLING AND TUMBLING

The women of the WWE stomp (and not in a good way) down the runway. We finally see the whole of Christian’s outfit, and true to his design sense, not only are there puffy sleeves on the bolero, but there are ruffles on the ankles of the chaps, as well. Except for that bit of excess, his is a very hott, very successful look for the wrestling ring. Jillian’s girl is wearing thigh-high white spats that give the whole look this sort of Dirty Alice in Wonderland feel. It’s kind of hott.

Ricky’s girl drags her unhappy ass down the catwalk in her ugly orange bathing suit, and even uglier sequined mini-tent. Chris’ Sheena of the Punk Jungle comes out and sells the shit out of his outfit. She is showing some major love, and when she whips off the little leopard hoodie to reveal the black spangled lining, you can hear even NinaGarcia swoon. Hell, Miz Shoes would wear that hoodie.

P’s girl comes out and does the Robe & Reveal and meh. The last model is Rami’s WWE Wrestling Diva Barbie, wearing a draped micro skating skirt over her boy shorts.

The judges make these judgements: Michael Kors thinks that Jillian’s sexy tomboy next door has sizzle and plays a riff on a classic look. Rami’s flirty girl next door had no reference to the Americana theme, and NinaGarcia hated the color. Christian’s outfit was much loved (Miz Shoes bets that Richie Rich tried it on after the show) and it is seen as a sort of Prince/Purple Rain era look. P went for Retro Glamour Girl, and failed: it wasn’t dramatic enough for her client. Chris’ girl is the “Kiss-Cam” girl (who knew?) and the judges are amazed that he was able to make glitter spandex look expensive. Michael Kors notes, with some dryness, that he doesn’t think that Chris was as challenged by this challenge as the other designers. No? And Ricky comes in last with a universally despised tent and orange bathing suit.

Further discussion among the judges finds that Christian’s outfit was somehow sexy without being trashy. And really, in a lineup of assless, leather and lace chaps, these would be the nicest.  NinaGarcia says that her first favorite was Jillian’s costume, and Miz Shoes can totally see NinaGarcia in those white pleather thigh highs. Tragically, Ricky missed the boat – yet again- and the awful mini-tent is dismissed by Michael Kors as a funky, disco hair-cutting smock. Rami’s costume is labled a frou-frou Paris Hilton wannbe (oooh, sting!) and P is called out for giving her girl a Vargas disco ball when she wanted a Zigfield costume.

Jillian is in, Chris is the winner and Christian bares his teeth in what is supposed to be a happy-for-the-other-guy smile, but looks more like he’s getting a tattoo and trying to be butch for his friends. The judges try to make up for his loss by telling him that he did a good job. That and a show in Bryant Park, bitches. Rami is in. P and Ricky are the bottom two, and even though P’s work had no drama, the judges and the viewing audience have had quite enough of Ricky’s stupid little twee hats and constant weepy drama and we finally and at overdue last get to say good riddance by to Little Emo Boy. Quite unpredictably, Ricky does not cry at his auffing.

Next week, another field trip and Jillian is still sewing/gluing when Tim calls the models to the runway.