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.

I’m skimming the news about the tornadoes and I run across this sentence:

President Bush, who said he called the governors of the affected states to offer support, plans to come to Tennessee on Friday. “Prayers can help and so can the government,” Bush said.

Prayers can help? Help what? Help who? They did a splendid job of keeping the winds out of the area yesterday, because that statement surely means that the people in the nearby towns that didn’t get destroyed must have prayed harder than the people who died…right? That’s what the Idiot in Chief was saying, wasn’t it? Or do I just not (being a Jew and therefore bound for Hell) understand how that Christian prayer thing works.

And if his idea of the government helping is New Orleans two years later? Then count me out. For the love of all that is sacred and holy (in Bush’s case, that would be oil, money and power) what is he going to do? Send in the trailers and tents that are affectionately known as “Hurricane Magnets” in my part of the woods and “Tornado Magnets” elsewhere?

Is he going to send in the prayer squad or is he going to actually send in food and generators?

I just really need to stop reading the papers.

Yeah, I know I’ve talked trash about my brother, Biggus Dickus, before but he is my brother. And Friday he will turn 60. So, in honor of that momentous occasion, I give you:

moar funny pictures

Yesterday I joined Blog 365, and we’ll see how that goes, me blogging daily. At the moment, it’s kind of easy, because my boss is on an extended road trip for most of the month, which means that I have the time to blog. The problem with daily blogging is that I’m not all that terribly interesting all the time. Well, I am, it’s just not always interesting outside of my head.

Last night I went back to my Alma Mater to a seminar on social networking on the web. The turnout was very small, mostly other professors and alumni, and very few undergrads. There was a sort of elfish-looking junior Ted Kaciznsky with one of those Dr. Koop beards (so very, very unattractive in any century) and a beach towel across his shoulders for warmth. I guess because when you go to the University of Miami you pack beach towels and not a sweater, dog forbid.

It was sort of embarrassing, but I seemed to ask more questions and be more attentive than anyone else in the room. And I am neither a business student nor a scientist. I also had a better, albeit intuitive grasp of some of the implications of social networking on line. Maybe because I’ve been blogging since 2002, and a member of various groups on-line since almost the day I got a dial-up account.

In any event, the subject was fascinating, but not so fascinating as to take over my dreams. No. In my dreams, Johnny Depp, his girlfriend and children became my neighbors and kept hanging out at my house. They came over for dinner (I didn’t remember inviting them, nor was I ready) and he was wearing a bowling shirt in grey, black and pink with martini glasses printed on it. Then he took us over to his house and I walked around checking out his art collection. I had just come to the conclusion that he would be the perfect patron for the RLA, when I woke up. Without getting a commitment from Johnny.

I only mention this because my usual celebrity dream friends are the Bob, the Bruce and Tom. Tom Petty. Who is back on tour with the Heartbreakers, and I have tickets to see them. First time since the 80s, when I used to see him in tiny clubs. This should be fun, non?

It was a nice weekend at the Casita de Zapatos. We went to visit my mother on Saturday, and she was as awake and alert as I’ve seen her in months. She held my hand, and told me I was a good one, and then she delivered these two gems: “There is another life elsewhere.” Oooh-kay. And “If you want that (she gestures blindly at something somewhere over our heads), I’ll lift you up on a windmill.” And allrighty, then.

There is a new resident at my mother’s place, and she is mean. Really, really mean. She uses the N word to demean the help, and tells everyone to get the hell out of her home or her country, depending on how evil she’s feeling. A couple of weeks ago, she was really making the RLA and I feel sad and uncomfortable, when she turned to us as though we were her cronies, and asked us who all these other people were. Without batting an eyelash, the RLA and I said, what other people. It’s just the three of us here. We don’t see any other people. Then the RLA said that we were angels. God sent us to tell her not to be so mean. The nurses tell us that she’s been a lot less ugly to them since then.

Yesterday, I went to one of the last u-pic fields with Star, and picked a bushel or so of little green tomatoes. Yesh! It is little green tomato time again, and I have 18 quarts of little green tomatoes pickling away on my kitchen counter. I also have blackened, grimy nails and cuticles on my right hand which no amount of scrubbing has done anything to ameliorate.

Last night, we headed off to hang with MJ, RJ and The Other Couple (and other of The Other Couple’s friends) to watch the Super Bowl. What a game! What a great time! What good food! What a play! When Eli Manning ducked the sack (and how did he DO that?) and still managed to hurl one miles down the field only to have his receiver catch the ball on his HELMET!!!! (and how did he do THAT???) What a game. It really was super. And the best thing? (other than the baby who underestimated the creepy factor of the clown) was that the Miami Dolphins got to hold on to their record for one more season. And the next best thing? Eli Manning beat Tom Brady.

I just saw this:

The Beatles are about to become radio stars in a whole new way.

NASA on Monday will broadcast the Beatles’ song “Across the Universe” across the galaxy to Polaris, the North Star.

The story is full of embedded lyrics and the author obviously had a good time writing it.

What sticks with me though, is this: it is the 50th anniversary of NASA. I grew up just down the coast from Cape Canaveral, and the space industry has been a part of my whole life. My beloved cousin Milton worked on the Gemini project doing something with the space suits. From the very beginning, when a rocket launched, my whole elementary school would be trotted out to the playground, lined up and faced north, and with the little black and white portable tv in the classroom giving us the play by play, we would watch the vapor trail, and the bright flash of the booster separating from the body of the rocket. Then back we’d go into the school, to follow the rest of the story.

Perhaps those memories are why some of the short stories by Ray Bradbury resonated so deeply with me. In books like The Illustrated Man, there seemed to always be folks sitting on their porches on a clear summer night, watching the space ships take off from beyond the corn fields. Those stories seemed to be so close, just another year or two away from what was real in my life already.

When we drove to Newport for the summer, we would stop at a picnic area in Titusville, just across the St. John’s River from the Cape. We could see the rockets on their pads, and the giant buildings where the rockets were built. They were so big, we were told, that clouds formed in the upper reaches. I knew how to spell the word “gantry” and what it meant.

Why wouldn’t there be rockets beyond the orange groves and fireflies in the trees?

I love Bollywood movies, and I especially love myself some Shah Rukh Kahn. Last night I watch Kal Ho Naa Ho. And this dance sequence just blew me away. Thankfully, in this day and age of the unlimited interwebs, I am able to let you guys see it to. Turn up the volume and rock out!

But then, there is this, later in the movie, and it also has a certain charm. Sorry about the vid quality, you’ll just have to rent it for yourself.

MORNING: OPEN ON GIRLS’ DORM

We see Victorya making coffee, and calling to her roommate “Kit, are you going to have more coffee?” Except, oops, not Kit, that’s Sweet P, who kind of whines, “I’m P, not Kit.” And then we repeat the exercise, this time with a sandwich instead of coffee. Kit, would you like? I’m not Kit, I’m P.

Let’s discuss. Is Victorya being super-creepy passive aggressive and trying to get under P’s skin? Or is it just that all bleached blonde, blue-eyed white women look the same to Victorya?  Or both?

Well, it doesn’t matter, because we’re off to see the boys, where they are discussing how their apartment is the only one with all the original occupants. Do we care? Ricky is sniveling about being in the bottom two again and how nobody likes him or his work. Here’s a clue, Nellie, take off the stupid, fugly little twee hats and butch up a little. Oh, and another clue? Make something that doesn’t suck.

Off to Parson’s to see Heidi, choose models and hear about the next challenge. Christian turfs last week’s model and takes back the model that got stolen from him. I think. Really, I have no idea with these girls. I know that Jillian’s model wears glasses when she’s not on the runway and can sew by hand, and that is about it for me and the models. Maybe next season I’ll care enough to learn their names. Or not.

As for the challenge, well, Tim is taking everyone on a field trip, so scoot. And they do, complaining all the way. A field trip, Rami of the Totally Stank Attitude tells us, can be something fabulous like a trip to Paris, or something tragic, where you end up in a garbage can, trying to find stuff to make a wedding dress. He frets and pouts. Although we don’t see it, I’m sure that Ricky is crying.

ON THE WATERFRONT

Into a van and then over the river and through the boroughs, to a warehouse on the waterfront we go. Another warehouse on the river? Is this another trash challenge? Oooh, that’ll go over big. But no, there is a woman, and she is Caroline Calvin, and she is the Vice President of Design for Levi’s. The warehouse door slowly rises to reveal… well, Jillian doesn’t even want to know what’s behind door number one. But in the end what’s behind the door is a warehouse of gigantic proportions, with multitudes of clotheslines like spider webs throughout the space, on which, Tim tells us, is more than 500 pairs of Levi’s 501 jean products and bolts of white cotton. The designers have three minutes to sprint across the acreage, scooping up denim and white cotton and stuffing it into laundry bags.

P loses one flip-flop. Chris hates life. Rami-OTTSA makes a point of only taking the dark washes. Jillian takes all the lightest jackets and jeans. Christian takes the dark? and the jackets? And Victorya steals stuff from Chris, rationalizing her behaviour as being highly competitive in a competition. Although Miz Shoes didn’t think it was possible given the vastness of the space and the short amount of time, the designers manage to strip the clotheslines bare.

IN THE WHITE ROOM

In the workroom, Tim shows the designers the heaps and piles of baggies of notions from Levi’s: buttons, snaps, zippers, labels, and although I didn’t see it, I’m sure that there were spools of the signature gold thread. The designers have twelve hours to make a new iconic denim look. Ricky, wearing one of his stupid little twee hats, tells us that this is going to be fun for him (for a change) because he makes some of his hats (OH, NOES!!) from denim. And he’s going to play to his strengths (he has any?) and make a corset dress.

Jillian, riding high on last week’s spectacular and spectacularly received Apocalyptic Trench Coat (band auditions coming soon) will make a futuristic jacket and use the little red tabs as epaulets.

Rami gives us some background on himself: blah, blah, blah, Jerusalem, political hot spot, three religions, blah, blah, blah, fashion forward from the age of five because of that, blah, blah, blah.

P laments that her denim is filthy because she let it hit the ground in that warehouse, and asks Chris, whom she says is smart about this stuff, how he would recommend getting the dirt out/off. Chris tells her to make up the garment, then damp wipe it. Christian tosses in his two cents and says not to wet the fabric, because then the dirt will absorb. Then Chris and Christian proceed to get into a pissing match over who knows better and it ends just short of Christian calling Chris a big fat doo-doo head.

We are then treated to a way-too-long montage of all the idiosyncrasies of the various designers. Chris says that Christian needs to be given his bottle and sent to bed. Christian opines that he is going to and I quote: “die of barfness.” Then he whines that this is not how fashion really is. Oh, really? You think? A reality teevee show isn’t like real life? Miz Shoes has to fan herself a little and think about that.

Victorya is going to make a classic trench coat. Jillian is pissed about this and whispers heatedly that Victorya is stealing her shit from last week when they worked together on the Apocalyptic Trench Coat.

Christian says that working with denim makes him feel so manly. Miz Shoes chokes on her martini, and almost misses him announcing that he’s going to make a fierce, edgy biker jacket for women. Who wants to bet that this will include some ruffles and/or tucks and that it will be cropped?

P wants to make a denim wedding dress, and we see her wedding photo from a year or so ago, and let me tell you, that woman must have been spending days per week at the tattoo parlor, or her husband is a tattoo artist, because none of the ink she’s sporting now is visible in her wedding pix.

Christian is chirping about how only the annoying people are left, and he isn’t a happy little camper, and in walks Ricky. Schnort. Christian hones the point by interviewing that Ricky has no vision, and that he should have been sent home, not Kit. And the rest of America, hating itself for having to agree with such an annoying little queen, agrees. Ricky is then given face time to make his case, and he tell us that he used to be the Vice President of design for Vera Wang lingerie. Really? Did you cry all the time there, too? And did Vera let you wear those stupid little twee hats at the office?

P and Christian look into the other workroom, where Chris is working by himself. P asks Christian if he thinks Chris is lonely, and he says, no, not at all, he’s talking to his dress form. Cut to Chris, who is, in fact, talking to the garment, and he tells us that he’s making an iconic Little Black Dress. But in blue denim.

WHEN THE WHIP COMES DOWN

Tim enters and does his grand tour of the workroom. He starts with Ricky and says he loves it. Miz Shoes checks to see if a combination of TheraFlu and vodka is a hallucinogen.

Tim asks Chris why his dress has a raw edge on it. Chris says because he likes it. Tim says that it is incongruous and he isn’t so sure about it. Miz Shoes kind of likes it, but Miz Shoes is not a judge.

Jillian has a long way to go, as always. And her piece is looking awfully familiar. Rami has used zippers to create a binding on his seams. Tim thinks that this is terribly innovative and that this has the potential to blow away the judges. Miz Shoes calls foul and jumps up and down on the couch, saying ORIGINAL? INNOVATIVE? Have you already forgotten that Jeffrey-The-Pinheaded-Shmoo did that last year on his green awning striped dress? NOT INNOVATIVE, DERIVATIVE!!!!!

Victorya is looking a little “patchwacky”. And P? Well, Tim says that it’s looking “happy hands at home granny circle”. He tells her to “resolve the skirt”. P blanches, and then tells us that she takes Tim’s advice to heart, and promptly cuts the bottom of her wedding dress off and rethinks the whole project.

Jillian is having a nervous breakdown, whining about the lack of time, like this is a new condition, and crying and saying that she’s cut herself (on purpose? Miz Shoes wonders) and when Rami comes over to see the blood (and lap it up? Miz Shoes wonders) there is, in fact, none. She’s in a total panic and someone (Chris? P?) tells her that she can freak out all she wants in ten minutes, but to put a sock in it until the little hand and the big hand line up. Christian sighs that he is sooooo glad that he has immunity this week.

IT’S A NEW DAWN, IT’S NEW DAY

In the boys’ room, Rami is spritzing his face. The girls are getting ready to leave. Then there we are at the workroom, and Jillian is sprinting in her heels (good for her) towards her mannequin and we see the denim version of last week’s near-win. Only, not as good. Nowhere near as good. Victorya is adding an inside out skirt to the bottom of a totally off-the-rack jacket.

Ricky is cooing over his dress and doing the finishing. It may not be what the judges want, says Ricky, but it is what Ricky wants.  P is sure that she’ll be safe with her dress. She’s done some amazing stuff with the different washes, using them to define the outline of the dress.

Jillian and Victorya are hating each other and each other’s work, and whispering that the other one stole their idea. Ho-fucking-hum. Christian has made a jacket and a pair of jeans, and he tells us that he will just puke if he sees another tube dress. People are hot-gluing like there is no tomorrow. Oh. There isn’t. There also is absolutely no more time, and once again, Tim is standing in the doorway, telling Jillian to move out NOW!!!

IT’S ALL OVER NOW, BABY BLUE

Heidi takes the runway in a fabulous shimmery brown baby doll dress, and tells the designers that the competition is getting “tuffah” and so there will be no more immunity for the winners. She smiles gloriously as she says that. There are all the usual judges, and Caroline Calvin.

Chris’ dress has this sort of halter made of the raw-edges waistband, I think and it’s a cute little dress, but not a Little Black Dress. It’s too casual for that.

Ricky’s dress is strapless, with a short, pleated skirt from a very dropped hip, and the front uses and extended button fly. Meh.

P’s dress is clean and polished and the color blend with the different washes is beautiful. There is nothing hippy, Woodstock, granny or crunchy granola about it at all. See, people? This is why you should Always Listen to Tim Gunn.

Victorya’s trench coat is a huge nothing, and the skirt is way too full.

Rami’s dress has kicky pleats and zipper bindings and looks better, to me, than Ricky’s. At least there is no draping.

Christian’s jeans and jacket are as fierce and fashion forward as he thinks they are. The jeans are pencil thin, and from about the knee down, he has finished them with long, buttoned cuffs off a jacket, so that there are these big brass buttons down the back of the leg, opening to allow one’s foot through because they are cut that close to the bone. Anyone larger than a size minus two could not wear them. But by gad they are hothothot. The jacket is cropped and ruffled and there is some weird mini-leg o mutton thing going on at the shoulders.

Jillian’s Not Quite Apocalyptic Trench Coat is not quite sucky.

The judges ask the designers about their motivation. Christian says that he was going for trucker/biker/motocross chic. Michael Kors asks about the material. That isn’t stretch denim, is it? No, it is tailored to within an inch of its life.

NinaGarcia sees Chris’ Little Black Dress as dated rather than timeless. MK says if he was going to do frayed and distressed, then he should have gone wild with it, and not just a tentative little edge. Heidi sniffs that it looks a little “home sewn.” (Which may be why Miz Shoes is having such a hard time finishing that dress in her studio, fearing the curse of looking home sewn.)

Since the judges are all suffering from amnesia regarding last season, Rami is lauded for his originality and creativity by Michael Kors and Caroline Calvin. NinaGarcia is happy that he’s finally done something different and that it is sharp and clean (and just a little bit like his candy dress.)

Ricky, they declare, has made a denim cocktail dress: denim done up. He has styled his girl like Amy Winehouse (see last week’s review, where he chose a giant bouffant as his inspirational look). Caroline Calvin thinks his dress is “really cool”. MK gets the Amy Winehouse reference. The judges all exclaim over his “impeccable workmanship” and Ricky, predictably, cries.

Jillian is called out for doing the same thing two weeks in a row. And told that this weeks is a feeble attempt compared to last week. Caroline Calvin says there are too many labels and NinaGarcia points out that Jillian has managed to make her model look stumpy.

P’s dress, says Michael Kors, has the “slimming voodoo”. We’d all wear it, says NinaGarcia, well, except, you know, maybe not Michael. And Kors says, well, you know, with the right shoes? They all love the “super chic” mix of denims.

Victorya’s attempt is assessed thusly: you have glued a party skirt onto a denim jacket.

YOU’RE IN OR YOU’RE OUT

Rami is in. P did a good job, she’s in. Christian is in (and robbed of a win, even if the little twit annoys me). Chris is in. Ricky is the winner, and my notes read “Get the fuck out”. His little dress will be sold in a limited edition on the Levi’s web site. Ricky weeps but somehow manages not to say “you like me, you really like me.” Miz Shoes knows, however, that he’s thinking it.

The old team of Victorya and Jillian are left in the bottom two, and Jillian, though her work was unfocused and unflattering, is left in. Which means that Victorya and her dull, uninspired coat are out. She takes this with as much enthusiasm and verve as you would expect, which is to say none. She gives an exit interview devoid of affect.

Next week? Ricky cries and Christian is really annoyed by everyone else in the room.

I’m home this morning, waiting to see the doctor, and discuss why, after three weeks of the chest cold from hell, I had a one week reprieve, and now it’s back. Walking pneumonia? Toxic work place? TB? I don’t know, and frankly, don’t give a damn. I just want it over.

ETA: “merely bronchitis”. Antibiotics, fluids, rest. Bite me.

OPEN: INTERIOR: GIRLS DORM

And just as quickly flash on the boys’ dorm, where the shirtless vision of Little Emo Boy assails us. Oh, please, girl. That is not Rami of the Heavenly Arms, nor is it Kevin. It is weepy Ricky and the best that can be said of this is that he was without the twee little hat. But wait! There’s Rami sitting all backlit and shit, asking Christian how he felt about being in the bottom two last week. Predictably, Christian is in denial that he deserved it, saying that there was such uglier, shittier stuff on the runway and whatever like, he knew there was no way he was going home. And though I am loathe to say this, she has a point. That twittering little queen is most excellent teevee. And then we are swept off to Parson’s where we will see Heidi on the runway, telling the designers about the next challenge. And so she does. The challenge this week is to design an avant garde look based on the avant garde hairstyle of your model. And now, let’s shake things up a little more by bringing out the girls in their little black slips and outrageous hair, and THEN let last week’s winning designer choose her model. Good times. Victorya sticks with her model, but since I’m not keeping track of them, I can only guess by the pissy/pained looks on some designers’ faces when other designers’ call out names, that there is a lot of model switching going on. Ricky is last, and he has to choose between three girls. Since the models weren’t used last week, we have two spares. Ricky makes his choice based on which hair he thinks he can design around and then cries. Are you shocked? And I must point out that he went with an Amy Winehouse on crack (wait, that IS Amy Winehouse).... an Amy Winehouse by way of Hairspray, the Musical bouffant that I would never have chosen in a zillion years.

Back to the workroom to hear from Tim. It doesn’t have to be practical. It doesn’t even have to be wearable. It must be out there. Over the top. Ambitious. Wild. Haute. And because

the challenge is so complex, the designers will have to work in teams of two. Which teams will be chosen at random by Tim via the evil velvet button bag. Bwah-hah-hah-hah. They will need to pick a leader, and decide which of the two hair looks they will work from. And the teams are: Kit & Ricky; Sweet P & Rami-OTHA, Chris & Christian, and Victorya & Jillian. Sweet P is thrilled, and Christian even more thrilled because he has astutely figured out that the only person in the room who can do and has made a career out of doing Over the Top Excess is his new best friend, Chris. Chris, on the other hand, has figured out that for all his annoying ways, girlfriend can sew like a motherfucker, and they’ll be needing all the mad skillz and fast sewing that Christian has been flaunting around the workroom.

There is one half hour to figure those leader/look things out, and then there will be $300 for the trip to Mood. Christian gets to be the leader of Team Fierce, because Chris has watched the show and knows who gets sent home in a team challenge. So does Christian, but for once his obnoxious self-adoration does him a favor. Kit is the leader of her group because, really and come on, is there a question? Little Emo Boy in the stupid twee hat? Oh, puh-leeze, Nellie, he’d break down in tears at the very idea of a decision. Kit says that her models hair looks like a bird’s nest, and that they will be doing garden something. Rami-OTHA doesn’t even give P a chance to volunteer to be the leader because he assumes command and tells her that they will be using his model, her hair, his ideas and his choice of fabric, and his time schedule. And anything else, explicit or implied, that he thinks of between now and when they take their look down the runway.

A DIGRESSION, IF I MIGHT

By now, we all know that Rami is from Jerusalem. He is an Israeli, even if he is not a Jew. I say this because in this episode he proved to be a true Israeli, which is to say, an egocentric, misogynistic, overbearing douche. Ask anyone who has ever known an Israeli man, gay or straight, and they will tell you that last night, Rami of the Heavenly Arms was straight out of central casting. When you see P checking if she has enough cigarettes for another day of working with him? Even if she’d never smoked a day in her life, after a day in the employ of an Israeli male she would have hied herself straight to Nat Sherman’s. I say this as a woman who has done so.

MEANWHILE, OVER AT ANOTHER TABLE

Victorya and Jillian are in a battle to the death over who will become their team leader. Neither is willing to just say no, so it goes to a coin toss. Except that wasn’t a coin. Whatever it was, it landed with the Victorya side up, and she became the team leader. The model they choose to use has a funky-ass Mohawk thing going on and one of the two whispers these words: Apocalyptic Trench Coat. Which is totally the name of my next punk band.

Christian and Chris have a shared vision of 50 yards of organza, cut into hundreds of circular layers and building up the model to an organza Venus Rising From The Waves Clam Shell flying off her shoulder. Flying as in a flying buttress, not as in winging away. Chris is building the superstructure for the flying clam shell out of wire. There’s a wonderful exchange where he says that he’s trying to make an antenna to call out. And someone (P? maybe) asks if he’s trying to contact Elisa’s planet. And Chris says that Elisa left him the instructions. Brilliant. They could come drink and hang with me anytime.

Rami-OTHA is announcing that they will have a corset and attached gown over a pair of fitted trousers. P will do the trousers, because the corset and draping requires the hand of the master and he cannot, as commandant, allow anyone to sully what may be his chance to win big. And then he proceeds to micro-manage Sweet P into an early grave, all the while complaining that he has to micro-manage her and that is eating up his valuable time.

Victorya and Jillian are dithering and dithering and dithering and dithering. And fretting. And dithering. And then, just like that, it’s time to go home.

MORNING: DAY TWO

We see P packing up her smokes and wondering how horrible her life is going to be today, and says, ever so politely, that Rami may have heavenly arms, but to work with, he is a total dick. Girl, we hear you. Once in the workroom, P offers a few bits of feedback which are blown off and ignored. Maybe thrown on the ground and kicked a little, too, just for good measure.

Tim comes in and because

the challenge isn’t hard enough, tells the designers that, GUESS WHAT? You also have to send a second look down the runway: the commercial, prêt a porter version of your avant garde look. They will only get $50 and 15 minutes, and only one of them will get to buy the fabric.

Kit says she’ll pick out the fabric and Ricky’ll make the dress. Jillian and Victorya are not even close to being finished with the Apocalyptic Trench Coat (Oh, I love that name. Do you think the band should be Japanese? Like the 5.6.7.8s?) and Victorya says that she feels horror and nausea. That’s funny, ‘cause, like, that’s what she engenders in me! Christian offers to go to Mood because he’s fast. And he is.

Back over on the Gaza strip, Rami-OTHA is telling Sweet P that no, they won’t be using navy as she suggests, and that unless she shows him sketches (and he approves them)  he won’t let her make the dress, either. I wonder if P started biting her nails when she ran out of smokes, or thought about cutting herself with the Olfa? Or cutting him, because didn’t she used to be a biker? Sadly, no blood is shed, and P buys some silver shantung silk. Mmmmmmm.

FITTINGS

The models are sent in for fittings, and we see Rami of the Totally Stank Attitude sticking whickety-whack all over everything while P rolls her eyes and accepts that she is not going to have one word of say in this.

Jillian has nothing finished, and Victorya only has the pants mostly done, but she also has immunity and that’s giving Jillian hives, because if they are the bottom team, she’s saying bye-bye-bye.

Chris says that he just wants to send out a dress that makes the judges’ jaws drop to the floor and never forget it till the day they die. OK. I can accept that as a goal. The second best footage of the night comes next, as Christian gives his model some lessons in how to walk a couture catwalk. It’s all about the broken back and the thrown out hip. Hey, haven’t we heard Tyra or Miss Jay say that, like a million times a season?

And over in the corner, we have Rami of the Totally Stank Attitude brow beating P over her time management skills…or his perception of her lack thereof, and all the while she’s sitting there steadily working on the ready to wear dress. He storms off, and the model pets P’s hair while she cries.

UNDER PRESSURE, PRESSURE, PRESSURE

Surely we haven’t had enough sturm und drang, so Tim comes in with a special guest, Nathaniel Hawkins, the Tresemme guy. He’s there to help them get a street version of the avant garde hair. He’s also there to tell them that the winner of the challenge gets a Tresemme ad in Elle magazine with their models.

Then Tim circles the room, striking fear into the hearts of those wise enough to listen to his advice. Team Fierce (Chris and Christian) he tells that their day look looks cheap and that it worries him. They fret. To me it looks like another version of Daniel V’s winning flower pot pencil skirt and poofy blouse, except not poofy, just ruffled. Tim tells Kit and Ricky that their effort looks very costume-y, and not in a good way. It needs some more work and some more exuberance, because right now it’s looking a little Mary on the Prairie.

When he comes to Rami and P, he tells them that this is another Rami draping exercise and it’s starting to get a little old. This also worries him. Rami tells him that the problem is that he and P think differently, or to put it another way, that she doesn’t know her place and she keeps trying to have an opinion.

Victorya and Jillian are dithering and dithering, but Tim is encouraged by the look of their coat…if they can finish it. They are moving as fast as they can, but you know, hamsters in a wheel. They haven’t even started their second look as the day ends.

Rami and P are no longer talking. I think that this may be a good thing, but it’s making Sweet P sweat. Still, having heard Tim dis the draping, she is working like a fiend over the ready to wear dress, so that she will have something of her own to hold up should their team go down in flames on the runway.

RUNWAY DAY

As the girls prepare to leave their apartment, we hear P saying that she doesn’t want to end up in a fist fight with Rami. I should think not, sweetie, we have ALL seen the size of those biceps. Assuming that he uses them, and doesn’t slap fight.

In the workroom, Jillian cuts a spiral of black jersey. The high concept models are already in hair and make up. The designers have two hours for fitting the ready to wear look and getting those girls off to hair and makeup.

Ricky and Kit are making a cute little sundress (or so Kit says) but Ricky is worried that maybe it isn’t so cute and that their haute look is not so haute. (Oh, man, I just couldn’t NOT do that, could I? I’m sorry.)

Christian is bouncing up and down, sure of the win. Jillian has somehow managed to get a dress on her model, but she thinks it looks like an afterthought. I think it looks a little, what with the pink silk plaid edging and funky layers and levels, sortakinda like Jeffrey-the-Pinheaded-Shmoo’s yellow plaid haute couture dress. But Team Last Minute has done a most excellent avant garde look.

On the runway, Heidi comes out in a brown dress with a big old belt, an asymmetrical neckline and some weird-ass bunching in the arm pits to start the fashion show. Judges tonight are Michael Kors, NinaGarcia and Alberta Ferretti.

First up we see Team Rami’s drape-y, corseted thingie with the long flowing skirt over a pair of plain black trousers, and a great little silver short dress that has very little to do with the haute couture look, but is absolutely wonderful on its own. Go P.

Team Fierce’s model comes out doing the broke down doll and thrown out shoulder, just like Chris taught her and sells the shit out of a giant flounce. And there’s a skirt and blouse with a ruffle to go with.

Ricky and Kit send out Scarlett O’Hara by way of Forever 21 and a forgettable sprigged cotton shift with pockets. As the model exits, we see that there is a ginormous hoop and train with furbelows and bows and whickety-whack that actually looked sort of cool. Well, the one red bow, did.

And in the evening’s shocker, the Apocalyptic Trench Coat (no, really, like punk covers of Broadway show tunes? In Japanese? There is nothing like a dame…with a Ramones’ kind of guitar riff?) rolls down the catwalk like a fucking chrome-plated Peterbuilt. That thing is awesome. I mean, fucking brilliant. Black with a pastel pink silk plaid lining? And oversized lapels? And a white equestrian, bustle-backed blouse and jodhpurs. Where the fuck did that stuff come from? How did they manage to sew all that and we not see even the first glimpse of it? Oh, you evil, naughty editors.

Ricky and Kit, and Sweet P and Rami of the Totally Stank Attitude have the lowest scores, and will be dealt with momentarily. For now, though, we will revel in the gloriousness of the two top teams.

Christian chirps that they wanted old-world romantic, and Michael Kors just comes undone. It is beautifully crafted, he coos. Soignée, even, he sighs. The skirt on the day look is a throw away, but the blouse is yummy.

Victorya and Jillian say that they were going for punk equestrian, and they surely succeeded. When the ATC comes off, and the judges see the little plaid ruffled peplum, they just fall off the director’s chairs. You have three looks here, says Michael Kors, and Victorya agrees, adding, “so we should win.”

The losers are called up to answer for their sartorial sins. Ricky is getting weepy. Rami steps up and says that they wanted to combine corsetry and flowing, like the model’s pleated hair. He admits that he made the corset and gown, and that the pants you don’t even see came from P. NinaGarcia is bored. She says that the judges know Rami can drape, but really, and come on, can he do ANYTHING else? And they say that the little silver day dress was much more avant garde than the same old draped rag he keeps showing them. And much more fashion forward. Then they look at the pants, and say that the model looks like her ass is on her front. P ventures that she wanted to put that fullness or bustle shape on the back of Rami’s piece, but he told her to stuff a sock in it.

Alberta Ferretti disses the Ricky/Kit effort by saying it looks like a cheap Scarlett O’Hara. Michael Kors says that Scarlett took her momma’s drapes and made haute couture, but that what they are showing looks like Scarlett ripped the sheets off the bed and ran out of the house. Schnort. And your day dress sucks, too, he adds.

IT COMES DOWN TO THIS

The Team Fierce of Chris and Christian, despite everyone’s misgivings, turned out an amazing piece of work. NinaGarcia is ready to give it the cover right now. Team Last Minute cranked out something that women would want to wear, says MK, and Miz Shoes says damned straight. Where can I get that coat, and where can I possibly wear it?

Rami, it is generally acknowledged, was a shit and tried to throw P under the bus, but the judges saw what he was doing and won’t let him. Besides, her dress was beautiful. Over on the other hand, we have Ricky, her tears and her stupid little twee hats. And Kit Pistol, who is firing blanks. What they sent down the runway was rank amateur, from start to finish.

Team Fierce wins!!! Christian gets immunity! Christian does the chicken dance of joy. Miz Shoes loves how he worked with Chris and doesn’t hate him anymore. At least until next week.

Ricky gets to keep his stupid little twee hats and stay. P gets to stay. Rami gets to keep his heavenly arms around for our viewing pleasure, even if he was a jerk and a lousy team captain. And that means that poor Kit Pistol gets fired.

Next week looks like the recycled trash challenge again, and Ricky cries and Victorya hates the challenge. As they say on 7th Avenue, so nu?

So in all the years the RLA and I have owned the Casita des Zappatos, we have never filed an insurance claim. The no-name storm caused our living room to flood? We mopped and squeegeed and toweled and dried and threw out some papers. Katrina and Wilma decimated our trees? We sawed and cut and cleaned up. Lost tow truck forcibly removed about 80 feet of chain link fence? We found a fence guy, repaired and replanted and went on about our lives. Never a claim.

But the insurance industry is in the toilet. And we were lucky not to have our insurance canceled. No, we just had our rates adjusted. To about triple what it was last year, which means the escrow account at the mortgage holders now has a shortfall in the many, many thousands of dollars, which I either have to pay up front, or let my mortgage payment fucking DOUBLE! Double to pretty much exactly my monthly take-home pay. Which means that I couldn’t pay the other bills. Or, I can find about nine thousand dollars in the couch cushions, pay the escrow, and watch my mortgage go up only three hundred dollars a month. Or I can tell the mortgage holder thanks, but I’ll pay the insurance and taxes myself when due and hope that the change in the couch cushions builds up really fast, so that I actually have the money when the time comes to pay the piper.

Or, I can just pay off my mortgage, and only pay the taxes and insurance. That’s assuming I can bring myself to gut my brokerage account to do so. Or. Or what, exactly are my other options? Get a second job? Cut back on my other bills? That would mean turning off the air conditioner for the entire summer. Or selling my car. Or canceling the cable and the land line and only using a cell phone and NetFlix.

Time to tighten the belt another couple of notches.

Well, we all knew it was only a matter of time before this happened. Many thanks to RJ for sending this my way.

You gotta be kidding me, right? Who would give this fucking blog an ‘R’ rating. Did they not read my archives? Did they not notice the many and permanent links to the Rude Pundit?

I’m offended. As Groucho Marx said, I wouldn’t want to be a member of a club that would accept me.

This is my second attempt at this recap, the first having been swallowed by the fucking aether. At least I thought of a better title this time. Allow me to first apologize for a lack of recap last week, but between the chest cold from hell and the massive doses of Theraflu (which shit rocks, by the way, and I can’t recommend it highly enough) to combat said chest cold, my notes are less than coherent. I think I can read this, though: who the hell dresses Jillian? Half the time she looks like Rosie the Riveter/Sassy Car Hop and the other half she’s wearing Mork’s suspenders. WTF? Elisa the gently bewildered finally got sent home, but before she did we were treated to the tale of her broken skull which may or may not go a long way toward explaining that whole airy-fairy thing she had going on. What it didn’t explain, and what I found unsettling, was why she felt the need to throw her mannequin on the floor and straddle it to sew. Every time. And though it pains me to say this, Christian was right about the silver sleevettes on that thing looking like those little inflatable thingies that you stick on very little children to keep them afloat when they are first learning to swim. Michael Kors was correct as well when he said that thy looked like shower caps. They looked like crap, and there’s no getting around that. So, on to this week.

Open: Interior Morning: The Boys’ Dorm

Christian is blow drying his hair with the exact technique and attention to detail one would expect. But what is this? Rami of the Heavenly Arms, dressed only in a towel? Swoon. Miz Shoes thanks the editors for that one. And over in the girls’ room, Victorya is bemoaning the loss of Elisa and telling us that the girls have been consolidated into one room. And with that, we are out the door and over to Parsons for the next challenge. Heidi tells the designers that they will be designing something for one of the most important days in a woman’s life. The dress she wears when the divorce from the first husband is final? The models come out, and we see a gaggle of school girls in school uniforms. This is a gaggle of Jersey girls, and they have each chosen a designer with whom they wish to work. In Heidi’s world, one of the most important days of a woman’s life is her senior prom. Of course it would be. She was probably the prom queen of Friedrich Nietzsche High.

Christian, predictably, is not thrilled with the idea of working with little girls, or of making a prom dress. He says “the other designers are all excited. But I think proms are tacky, horrible and gross.” Not that I particularly disagree with him, but (and it takes one to know one) those are the words of the high school social out cast. Scarred for life and still bitter. In what is a perfectly delightful bit of schadenfreude, the shortest, plumpest, and least attractive of the girls choses Christian. She is his doppleganger: abrasive, opinionated, rude and socially inept. The designers and teens will have half an hour together to discuss looks, then the designers will hie themselves to Mood with $250 dollars. The actual workroom time will be until midnight of this day, and all of the next. Tim reminds the designers that, as teenaged girls, they will have very strong opinions, and it is up to the designer to both rein it in and make it their own vision.

I Want It All

Sweet Pea’s girl wants a super low cut front and back, accentuating her booty. And she wants white. I have a horrible vison of J-Lo’s most memorable fashion don’t, that turquoise thing that was split in the front to her pubes, and held on with double-stick tape. In white. Christian’s girl, Maddy, immediately grabs the pencil out of his hand and begins to sketch. She coyly tells him that she, too, is a designer. He dies a little. She wants it all: brown, black and gold and lace and beading and flounces and more lace and down to here and up to there and satin. Kevin, who is straight, is also, it turns out, from Jersey, and we see his prom photo. It is very, very, Vinny Barbarino. I say that with all due respect. He tells us that being from Jersey, he remembers what goes on at those Catholic school proms, and assures his girl’s mother that he will be sewing a chastity belt into the garment. Nice. And? Jersey.

It is a quick flash of Mood, and then we are back in the work room, where Christian is telling us that he was the best dressed person at his prom. Chris, from off-camera, asks if that was his opinion, or did they take a vote. Christian says they voted, and then we see his prom picture. He was in a group, HAH! OUT CAST! And it looks like they took the photo last week, because he has the same hair and the same look of insufferable superiority that he’s wearing when the camera returns to him in the present.

Jillian is working with Tiffany blue something or other, and other aquas and pastel teals and saying that she wants to make a jewel box of a dress. Well, she has the Tiffany blue…Ricky reminisces about growing up poor with a mother who was a seamstress (did she sew his new blue jeans?) and, predictably, weeps. And wears one of his stupid little twee hats. Oh, little emo boy, don’t cry any more, or Miz Shoes will be forced to reach through the television screen and bitchslap both the tears and the stupid little twee hat right off your face. God. Get a fucking grip already, girl. Sweet Pea, on the other hand, is totally butching up and says that she is not going home because she listened to some 17-year old girl. Way to go, Pea. Miz Shoes has hopes that we will finally get to see the Bad Pea. Not butching up at all is Christian, who is just in tears over how tacky is the dress he is being asked to make. I can’t let a 17-year old over power me, he cries. Get real, sweetheart, my dog, JoJo of Very Little Brain could over power you. A powder puff could over power you. I’m amazed you don’t blow away every time you turn on your hairdryer. Jeez.

Commercials

We are treated to the worst commercial in Levi’s history, you know, the one where there is some random guy pulling his pants on in a barren loft, and when he tugs, the city comes up through the floor, and he sees a hottie in a phone booth, so he thinks about it and then yanks the pants up and then he and the hottie walk away? Yeah. That one. But this being Project Runway, the hottie in this version is another guy.OOOOH, gay commercials. So daring. So ho-hum. Then, to add insult to injury, we have to see the Neck of All Evil, Jeffrey-the-Pinheaded-Shmoo take us to the hottest clothing store in El Lay, which is actually the back room of some sneaker emporium. But he tells us that it’s just super secret and super cool. And it seems to have all of his super crap from his runway show. Oh, ho ho, Jeffrey-the-Pinheaded-Shmoo was making jokes. I think. Or the only place he can sell his crap is in the secret back room of a sneaker emporium. What evs.

Day Two: Mothers and Daughters and Tim

Victorya is not happy with her dress, she thinks that her girl has asked for a dress that is evocative of an Italian divorcee. How many times do we have to say this? Jersey girls. Anyway, Victorya isn’t having any of that, so she changes her silhouette to something a little more modern and youthful. And cobalt blue. Tim comes in and tells the designers that they are getting half an hour with their models for fittings and reality checks. And they brought their mothers. Kevin’s model’s mother is awfully skeptical about the baby doll dress he’s made: she thinks that it makes her daughter look pregnant. Victorya’s girl though, despite not getting what she wanted, thinks that it is exactly what she wanted. Chris is working with what looks to me like a pistachio green silk charmeuse, and it is wonderful and sleek, but still exciting and different. Chris’s girl and her mom are both in love with Chris’ portfolio of giant drag queen costumes. It’s really sweet, and they are totally shocked to learn that it is Chris in every one of the pictures. Are they blind? In any event, both mother and daughter love Chris and love the dress. And so do I. Sweet Pea didn’t cut as low as her girl wanted, and used what also looks like a champagne-colored satin charmeuse to do a beautiful halter dress that is cut very flat across the front, and beautifully full and draped in the back. Again, girl and mother are nuts for it.

In another moment of secret evil pleasure for me and everyone else in America, Christian’s model is not so happy. And the dress does not fit at all. Christian must not have been able to believe his tape measure, because there is a good 10-inch gap in the back of the dress, where it will never close. Maddy is very unhappy that Christian didn’t do all she wanted, until someone else compliments her at which point she allows as how she designed the dress her own self. Christian dies a little more, and Miz Shoes enjoys another shot of schadenfreude.

Over at the sewing machines, Sweet Pea is grimly determined to do well, since she was in the bottom two the prior week. Chris lets loose one of his enormous laughs and says HA! for the bottom two, Honey, I’ve been voted off. Much hilarity ensues. Miz Shoes thinks it might be getting late. Tim now arrives to give the designs a once over and impart those pearls of Tim Wisdom that we all live for. He is concerned with Kevin’s dress, and especially the hem. Kevin does not want to hem the bottom, despite Tim telling him that an unfinished hem is certain death on the runway. Tim is also concerned for Rami of the Heavenly Arms, who has done one of his signature toga thingies with a really dark and somewhat drab olive green. Tim thinks that the young girl will look like she’s wearing her mother’s dress. Rami pays no attention to Tim and says that look at what 18 year olds look like in El Lay. Miz Shoes (and Tim) say oh, please let’s not. Tim is concerned for the amount of work that Victorya still has to do on her dress, because she has a ton of giant chunky crystals that still need to be applied. Tim tells her to work. And then he gets to Christian, who is not feeling fierce. He is, says Tim, all gloom and doom. Christian doesn’t even want to try to fix his dress, he’s ready to go home, defeated by an obnoxious little girl. Tim gives him a splendid pep talk, which ends thusly: “Rally.” My god, that man is good. Rally, said in a sort of up-beat deadpan may replace my current favorite phrase: sack up, ho.

Interior: Night: Boys’ Dorm

Chris, exhibiting a touch of the old schadenfreude himself, opines that Christian might just be losing it. Christian then comes out in an enormous orange towel turban and tells everyone else that they’ll miss him when he’s gone. And there is some truth to that. And then it’s morning, and Christian is shaving. Really? He shaves? Rami tells us that he is from Jerusalem, and there is no prom there. I feel like there should be some sort of joke there, like… in Soviet Union, prom… I don’t know. Fill it in your selves.

Back at Parsons, Ricky is telling us that he made his girlfriend’s prom dress and that should have been a clue. I don’t know. Did he wear a stupid little twee hat and weep copiously while he sewed it? Sweet Pea is entertaining the girls by showing off her various tattoos and piercings, and telling them that she was a Catholic schoolgirl once herself, and that she is their future. This makes one of them happy and the other two a little scared. Or scarred. Then we see Pea in her prom photo with a California blonde surfer dude, and Pea fans herself and blushes as she says that she remembers her prom, but will not elaborate further. Kevin has not hemmed his dress and Christian and Maddy are still arguing as he sews the last bits in place and she rolls her eyes and trash talks him.

Finally we are at the runway with the usual suspects and guest judge Gilles Mendell. Sweet Pea’s dress is first and it is really beautiful. It is sewn well and fits like a glove. Her girl is just loving it. Victorya has made a cobalt blue bubble dress with some interest at the neck, where the crystals are centered. Chris’ green charmeuse is another beauty, with a complicated back that has v-straps and a cape-y/train-y thing happening. His girl walks like a moose, but rocking it. Kevin’s short halter is meh. Jillian’s dress does look like a jewel box, but shockingly, her bodice fits terribly. Christian’s dress is hot mess in many flavors. It doesn’t fit, it’s shorter in the back than in the front, and it makes his stumpy lumpy girl look stumpier and lumpier. Rami’s olive dress is clearly too grown up, and the length is awful: neither short nor long, but hits just below the knee.

And Our Loser Is…

Kit, Jillian and Chris are sent off the runway because their scores kept them safe. The best and worst are Kevin, Sweet Pea, Christian, Ricky, Victorya and Rami of the Heavenly Arms. Sweet Pea is asked about her direction from her girl, and she says that she wanted Hollywood glamor, and a sort of Grecian drape. The girl says that it was exactly what she wanted and she loveloveloves it. Michael says it was flattering and well done, but NinaGarcia thinks it might have been a little too sophisticated for 17. Kevin’s dress is shredded. The color is awful against her skin. The dress is matronly and not young. And of course, Michael Kors zeroes in on the unfinished hem and says it looks messy and cheap. And he has a point. Victorya’s dress gets raves from all. Michael says it’s chic and young, NinaGarcia loves the fun color and that it is modern and appropriate. Christian immediately whines that he had the hardest job because his girl was a demanding diva. Gilles and NinaGarcia are having none of that and shut him up fast and dress him down for blaming his model. Ricky’s dress is seen as cute (and I don’t know why, because all of his stuff has those stupid bubble hems) but he gets called out for poor execution. Heidi hates the color, saying it washes out his model (it does) and MK says that Ricky needed to turn the volume up on all of it: the color, the draping.

Rami pleads that his girl wanted something comfortable and different. Gilles says, yeah, maybe but it ain’t a prom dress. Nina says it’s too sophisticated for a teenager, and points that the length is all wrong (told you so). And Michael Kors says it looks like a 35-year old woman going out to dinner dress.

The judges have nothing but love for Sweet Pea and Victorya. Rami, they say, was designing for Rami. Christian blamed his client, and that sat very badly with the judges. Ricky was seen as yet another non-event. Close but no cigar, again, says Michael Kors. But it is Kevin who gets the worst analysis: NinaGarcia says that he showed poor taste. Victorya wins with a modern, age-appropriate mini, and Sweet Pea, Ricky and Rami get to stay. It is Kevin and Christian in the bottom two. Christian, despite his unforgivable sin of blaming his model for his own failure and his poor execution, is still good TV. He stays. Kevin, with his head to toe cheap and poorly constructed, goes. Still, he says, it wasn’t all that bad: he got a hug from Heidi Klum. I guess he really was straight.

Next week? Ricky cries.

Sometimes, my padawan learner, you just have to scratch the itch.

I bought the Nikon. I have been shooting tons of pictures. Oh, lord, how I have missed an SLR. Of course, this purchase was directly responsible for my only resolution of 2008: This is the year I rid myself of unwanted weight, be it body fat or excess possessions. I spent new year’s day listening to the Moody Blues and making Mild Burning Symptoms a live website. There’s nothing there but an “I’m plotting great things” note, but I am in fact, plotting great things.

I will be dumping possessions all year. Art supplies, ephemera, artwork. I have sworn not to buy any new supplies for the entire year. No new cloth, fiber, beads, books or magazines. I will trade off old supplies for new, but only if I end up with less volume in the process. Speaking of which, anybody out there interested in about 30 years of Gourmet back issues? I think I’m only missing 6 or 7 issues in all.