The other night, I had one of my Bob Dylan dreams. We were hanging out, but it seemed that we’d not hung before. I was waiting for the moment when we’d be alone, or that there would be a quiet point in the conversation, where I could finally tell him that he and I had been having an affair (in my dreams) for the past 30 years, and I wanted to know if he had any inkling of it.

You follow that? In my dream, I wanted to talk about my dreams.

Last night, I had a similar dream involving why I’m so often naked in my dreams. I was explaining to one of my friends that the nudity seemed to be spilling over into my real life, which is why I wasn’t wearing clothes while we were sitting there talking.

I’m not sure if all my work on lucid dreaming is backfiring, or my brain is taking exception to my attempts to remain lucid and is working those attempts into the fabric of the dreams themselves.

It’s far to early to consider these options. I haven’t had my coffee yet.

PS: Pictures of the electric yellow Smartie to follow.

Open on boy’s dorm, morning. Daniel2.0 is sorry that Wesley’s gone, because they had a certain simpatico. Yeah, and now they’re an item IRL. In the girls’ rooms, Stella is sleeping in. Terrie’s trying to wake her up by shaking her ass in Stella’s face. I’m not too sure how that’s going to help. I mean, I’d be deeper under the covers if anybody was going ass to face on me in the dark hours of the morning.

But soon enough we are with Heidi and the velvet button bag, standing on the runway, waiting for model selection. In a moment of monumental underwhelmingness, Suede stays with TuhtuhtuhTia. Suede loves Tia. Suede loves Suede, more, though. And Suede is insisting on the third person. Heidi says that the designers (and why, this season, do I feel like that should be in quotes?) have worked hard, and as a reward, Tim will be taking them out for a night on the town. Jerell is skeptical.  Stella drones nasally that “Tim ain’t takin’ us to his house,” but hopes that there might be a club in her future. I’m hoping there’s a club in her future, too, but mine is a club made of wood and applied to her head. Or Suede’s head. Or Oompa-Loompa-Licious’ head. Yeah, I know that Asshat won my little poll, but this is my blog, and RJ has already started using Oompa-Loompa-Licious on hers, and damn it, that was MY joke. Where was I? Ah, a club to the head. And in comes Tim and there goes Oompa-Loompa-Licious, calling him Tim-Licious, and where is that club again? GAH!!!

It’s raining in New York, and Tim distributes slickers and Wellies. This concerns the “designers” who think that this is looking less and less like a decent meal and a night at the Roxbury. This group is like rockit scientists, really. The penny drops for all when they arrive at an open-roofed double-decker tour bus, and are informed that this week’s challenge will be to design a “night out on the town” garment inspired by New York City at night. There will be four stops on the tour, and at each stop, a group of designers will disembark and search for inspiration.

The first stop is Columbus Circle, and Suede, Daniel2.0, Leanne (Thing1) and Jennifer (Thing2) get off. But not like Vincent. Vincent’s looking pretty good around now, isn’t he, you Vincent haters? They take pictures of fire hydrants, planters and the steel grids around the trees, water in the gutter and litter.

The second stop is Times Square, and out jumps the jolly group comprised of Keith, Oompa-Loompa-Licious, Kenley (Thing 3) and Stella. Too bad Times Square has gotten Disney-fied, because the old Times Square of hookers, junkies, sex shows and squalor would have been like old home week for Stella. But now it’s all shiny and clean and there’s like, a Toys R Us right in the middle of what used to be a porno playground. Have I ever told the story of my first job out of college? I was doing layouts for a porno tabloid that aspired to someday be able to compete with “Screw.” Yeah. Good times. Oompa-Loompa-Licious looks for a tanning salon, and then the gang starts shooting pictures of garbage in the gutter, neon and more gutters.

Stop number three, as we head downtown, is the New York Public Library and Needle Park. I think that’s been cleaned up, too. Joe (remember Joe? He’s the straight guy with daughters?), Korto and Kelli belly up to the Grand Central Oyster Bar and ignore Patience and Fortitude (the lions in front of the NYC Library, doh). Your reviewer needs both to continue.

Finally, the bus drops the remaining crew in Washington Square Park, down in the Village, not three blocks from where Miz Shoes spent a couple of years after college. Emily (Thing4), Terrie and Jerell get busy shooting pictures of graffiti, garbage in the streets, and traffic lights.

Back up at Columbus Circle, we see that Stella can’t figure out how to use her digital camera. Here’s a clue, sweetheart: the button on the upper right hand side, on the top of the little box (point the circular piece of glass away from you) is the shutter. Just like it is on every fucking camera since George Fucking Eastman built the first Brownie. Idiot. Needless to say, Stella whines and complains throughout the night.

The Next Morning…

We meet in the workroom, where Tim says it’s time for the designers’ first trip to Mood. First, they have half an hour to edit their photos, and choose their inspirational image. Then, they will have $100 to spend at Mood. Lastly, they will have 13 hours to make the garment, and the winner will get immunity.

Oompa-Loompa-Licious is going for neon colors. Who would have guessed. Keith has chosen a tattered, trodden, sodden magazine cover for his inspiration. At Mood, Stella begins whining that nobody is helping her. She howls

at the room that there is nobody waiting on her. Let me just say that my darling, dear Paulie of the House of Gallofornia would not only be able to find materials in Mood or any other fabric shop. He also knows how to use a digital camera. I know, I know, let it go, already.

Emily (Thing4) is looking for chiffons to add movement, like the blurry lights in her picture. Jennifer is working from photos of world clocks and is pulling midnight blue and white charmeuse. Terrie says that she’s found all the colors she needs on a single bolt. She’s working from graffiti. Because she’s all urban, hip-hop and shit. Of course. Because she’s not working any stereotypes.

Back at the Parson’s workroom, Suede interviews that Suede is here to rock it. Suede accents that with finger guns. Alas, they are neither pointed at his own head, nor loaded. Kenley (Thing3) is going to do something retro and 40s and pin-up. I know, who would expect that look from a Betty Page clone, huh? Joe looks over, sniffs dismissively and says it looks too 40s for his taste.

Leanne (Thing1) has chosen to focus on a metal grate in a planter. It’s (she claims) both organic and architectural. I’d like to see her definitions, please. In yet another shocking development, she is going to execute this look with more of her signature, overlapping semi-circular flaps. She needs a catchy name. Something like, say, fleurchons?

One of the Things looks up from her sewing to find Oompa-Loompa-Licious staring at her with googly Muppet eyes. They are his, not ping-pong balls with dots, but one could be forgiven for making that mistake. ThingWhatever sort of freaks out, and Oompa-Loompa-Licious intones that he’s “gonna eat you!” Oompa-Loompa-Licious is the hardest working fame whore in reality TV today, hands down.

Over at Keith’s workstation, we see him making Post-It notes out of print fabric, and he’s applying them to a basic sheath, while he talks about his background as an abstract artist. Terrie is blahblahblahing about her graffiti. Thing4 (Emily) is talking about ruffles and layers. Stella has chosen, out of however many photos she was able to take, the blinder on one of the horses that draws carriages. Because, as Stella herself explains, it’s LEATHER. She is wearing a stupid, twee (and of course, leather) hat. We see her hammering grommets, while the other designers complain of the noise and she tells them to fuck themselves.

In The Midnight Hour

Daniel2.0 thinks that Thing2’s clock inspiration looks matronly. Thing2, may I remind you, is the one who keeps saying that she’s Holly Golightly meets Salvador Dali. Did she sleep through art history classes? Because I’m beginning to think that she has mistaken Salvador Dali for Thomas Kinkaid.

Tim is in the house, making the rounds. He asks Keith if the Post-It note dress will have a shape. Or, even, get fitted. He tells Thing3 that her dress looks a little costume-y. A little? Honeychild, that thing would be at home on a Cirque Du Soleil clown. Terri, not playing to stereotypes at all, blahblahblahs about street culture, and her urban aesthetic. She’s making a dress with no back to go over a pair of black slacks. It looks like a dress from the front, but from the back, it’s Oh My God. Tim asks if that would be a good OMG or a bad OMG. 

Tim makes it over to Thing4’s station and tells her that it’s just a dress with a big corsage. Take it further, he says. The judges will be disappointed with this. Thing4 proves that she’s never seen a single episode of this show by interviewing that she has her own sense of style and design, and that Tim means well, but should just shut it and let her do her own thing.

There is a moment, as Tim’s about to leave, where Oompa-Loompa-Licious and Terrie conspire to teach Tim how to say “Holla atcha boy” without sounding like a white guy. It is not pretty. It does not work. It is the designers being way too familiar with Gunn, the Great and Powerful.

And with that fetid footage, we cut to the morning of the show. Stella has dolled herself up in those Dr. Seuss on bad acid striped leggings. Pretty. At the Parsons’ workroom, nobody is even close to finished. As the models arrive for hair and makeup, Keith learns that his model had to drop out, and so he gets the girl who just got cut, Alyssa. Keith is not happy.

Thing2 realizes that her seams are shitty. There are 10 minutes to go, designers are gluing, stapling, and sewing their girls into the clothes as Tim moans that nobody is even listening to him, and that IT. IS. TIME. TO. GO!! NOW!!!! Daniel2.0 is searching for his scissors and that naked bitch is still at the airport in the damn BlueFly ad. Check for your scissors in her heart, I may have left them there, Dan2.0

Back on the runway, we are introduced to our guest judge for the New York at Night challenge. It is Sandra Bernhard. Girlfriend was never pretty, in any sense of the word, but age is not being kind to her. Remember Hatchetface? Yeah. That’s Sandra today. Even though it’s completely counter-intuitive to think this, she actually seems to have a fair handle on fashion and style. Go figure.

Keith sends out his patchwork Post-It dress. It has texture and movement, he says. Oompa-Loompa-Licious sends out something black with swaths of neon colors. It looks like everything else he’s done, more or less. Joe’s dress is minimal and well constructed, and holds true to his picture of an Art Deco light fixture. Thing4’s dress is a tiny, tight sheath (in black) with a semi-diagonal waterfall of lots of ruffles. In colors. Like the blurry neon lights in her photo. Thing1 has a steel grey version of her concentric flaps. Thing2’s dress looks to me like it came off the Titanic. It is a maternity-dress-like silhouette that evokes the fashions of the 1910s.

Jerell has made a moss-green flamenco dress with a train. Kelli’s dress is actually pretty amazing. There is lace? or some open-weave material. It’s chunky, and there’s some metallic fabric around the waist. Kelli has accessorized with gladiator sandals that actually are appropriate in context and cute. Daniel2.0 has made a drapey, one shouldered disco dress out of bronze metallic fabric. It’s a snooze. Thing3 (Kenley) has made a dress out of my Great Aunt Sophie from Boca’s couch circa Miami Vice. It’s an aqua and black and purple large-scale floral print. It has leg-o-mutton sleeves and a tight little mock turtle neck, and a short, tight skirt. Except for the enormous pouf of tulle in layers of raspberry, pink and purple that escapes from an equally enormous slit on the left hip. It looks like a giant tulle cyst.

Suede has made a boring, metallic, sleeveless shirtdress with overtones of a trench coat. Stella has finally made the one ensemble she’s been trying to make since she got here: a skin tight, sleeveless vest in silver leather with a pair of skin tight, low-riding leather pants. The pants are overly long and open and the ankle with snaps or grommets or something, and close with a lace instead of a zipper. Korto has slept through this exercise and made a racer-backed black jumpsuit. Terrie has a chiffon dress with no back (at all) it’s like this monstrosity, only busier:

You’ll Find Out When You’re On the Top You’re On the Bottom

Keith, Kenley (Thing3), Emily (Thing4), Terrie, Jennifer (Thing2) and Leanne (Thing1) are the tops and bottoms. Probably more literally than we care to consider. And then, the judges judged, and I think that they were all doing crack. Or thorazine. Because:

Kenley (Thing3) shows a photo of a blue and orange tile wall that was the inspiration for her aqua/magenta/black dress. Sandra says that the pouf would be great if she had a goiter or a growth that needed hiding. Michael Kors points out that the whole look is very “Joan Collins 1980s power bitch” but a young woman who’d never seen it before might love it. NinaGarcia claims that it’s very LaCroix, darling, and that it is adorable.

The RLA and the surrogate daughters and I all look at each other and ask: What the fuck are they seeing that we aren’t? That shit is hideous!

Keith is taken to school by MK, who sniffs that his little Post-It note dress looks like nothing more than “toilet paper caught in a windstorm.” NinaGarcia says that it is sloppy and unpolished.

Terrie’s backless chiffon is pronounced “fierce, sexy and in control. If you met that girl on a dark alley, she could cut a bitch” by Miss Bernhard. Who would know, if you get my drift. Heidi thinks it’s cool and MK declares that this is a girl you’d want to know.

Emily (Thing4) has taken a time-exposure of lights. It’s all blurry and jaggedy, sort of like the ruffles on her dress. Sandra says that if it were flatter, say, fabric inserts or appliqué, that it might have works. NinaGarcia just says it’s a Carmen Miranda moment. And MK gets in the last lethal word: “This explosion of ruffle is not placed fabulously.”

Leanne (Thing1) and her planter grate are lauded as “cool” by Sandra, while Michael is in love with it being separates. Heidi says that it looks like it came out of a store today and that she’d wear it in the proverbial New York minute.

The word for Jennifer (Thing2)’s navy blue sack is Matronly. NinaGarcia says that it’s OK, but boring.

Finally, we get to the judges’ confabulation. Terrie wins love from everyone. Kenley is praised for the energy she brought to her creation. There were lots of elements and they all worked (for whom, I wonder, idly. It still looks like Miami Vice-era sofa cushions from a Boca townhouse.) Michael is thrilled with how quickly Thing 1 learned to edit herself. Michael doesn’t mention that it’s the same damn trick pony. NinaGarcia says about Thing2 (Jennifer) I have nothing to say. Michael, Heidi and Sandra all giggle and say that’s the most damning thing NinaGarcia could say. Keith’s dress is once more declared to be toilet paper by Michael and nobody disagrees.

The poll that Bravo put up (Should Holla Atcha Boy be Tim’s new catch phrase?) shows that more viewers of this show have brains than we’d been led to believe, as a full 87% shriek NO, it should not.

Terrie is in. What the fuck? All those positive vibrations, and all she gets is “IN”? Kenley wins with the cystic purple pouf and Great Aunt Sophie’s sofa cushions. I want what the judges were drinking. And does this mean that I have to remember Kenley as different from Thing 1 and Thing 2? Kenley is thrilled and says that she’s never won anything major in her life. I turn to the Surrogate Daughters and say, “well, she surely didn’t win anything major when she got that voice.”  Leanne (Thing1) is in, and Keith is in.

Thing2 and Thing4 are left standing side by side on the runway, their sad little creations by their sides. Jennifer (Thing2) is totally called out for claiming her “Holly Golightly meets Salvadore Dali” sensibility, but showing matronly and boring. Emily (Thing2) was told she had no design voice, and her ruffle was distracting and a cliché. So, who stays and who’s auf? WRONG!

I told you I wanted what the judges were drinking. Despite universal loathing for her work, despite the fact that NinaGarcia didn’t even want to think about it enough to talk about it, Jennifer (Thing2) is left in the game for another week, and Emily goes home. In a beaded headband that has a faint whiff of circa 1970s Cher, what with it looking like Native American beadwork in black, red and white and all.

And with that, another week of Project Runway comes to an end. I may begin a drinking game next week; one which involves a shot of tequila every time that dreadful, little orange troll utters the sylables “licious.” Let’s pray I don’t die of alcohol poisoning.

Yeah, I know. A shiny, happy post early in the day from MizShoes? Let’s check to make sure the sun is still in the sky and the earth is still on its axis. Yep. Everything seems to be in order in the universe. So what got me going today?

Him. This random fellow who got on the train with his violin, sat down in the middle of the aisle and proceeded to deliver a fair rendition of Mozart’s “Eine Kleine Nachtmusik” followed by “Yesterday” and “Hey Jude”. I started the applause and the handing of bills to him, and he told the car that he took change, too. A gentle soul and one who brought a little rainbow glimmer of joy to me.

Tonight I’m making an asparagus risotto, or an asparagus pasta dish. I haven’t decided yet. But I have some lovely bamboo rice, and I’m thinking that a green risotto might be the ticket.

This morning, campaign workers were handing out post cards, advertising for a candidate for Circuit Court Judge. I have documented time and time again on this site that the average commuter in Miami is a pig. This morning we had a large-scale example of the lack of civility in Miami. Pretty damn near everyone took one of the cards. Yours truly merely smiled and said no thank you. So why do I have one of these cards sitting on my desk? Because of this:

and this: Note the cards piling up on the leading edge of the escalator:

and finally, this:

Here’s the e-mail I sent to the candidate:

Thanks a lot. You made an impact today. I, for one, will not vote for a candidate who approves this sort of waste and creates the kind of mess I saw at Dadeland South. At every stop between there and Government Center, I saw piles of litter caused by your workers and the general ill-manners of the train-riding populace. People dropped those slick little postcards right on the escalator, potentially creating hazards for those following behind and possibly damaging the machinery, thereby causing additional waste in the form of repairs to county equipment. Furthermore, I will be blogging this, complete with the photos I’ve attached.

What a waste. What a mess.

And here’s his response:

Thank you for making me aware of this situation.



Publicity in judicial campaigns is very circumscribed by legal strictures. My campaign workers had the best intentions to hand out campaign palm cards to familiarize potential voters and did not anticipate the mess this would create. I regret the inconvenience this caused you and other members of the public and will instruct my campaign to refrain handing out cards at the rail stations. I have also asked them to go back and pick up this stuff as best they can, although they were not the people who did this.



While palm cards are a traditional method of campaigning, you are very correct in your anger about the waste and litter in this situation. The only other thing I ask you beside accepting my apology, is not to come to a conclusion about whom I am based on one unfortunate instance, about which I had no prior knowledge. I have whole lifetime of service to this community and your conclusion as to whom I am should not be based on one incident.



Thank you again for taking the time to contact me.

Uh, maybe. But A) he isn’t familiar with what his campaign is doing in his name B) he tells me he has a lifetime of service, but doesn’t list a single example of which he is proud C) He had to stick that caveat about his people will try to clean up, but they were not responsible ... well, indirectly they were, since they were the source of the litter to begin with. D) On the other hand, he’s a public corruption prosecutor, which sort of warms the cockles of my hard little heart.

In other transportation news, the SmartCar has arrived and I plan on picking it up on Saturday. And last night, I saw this in the Publix parking lot. The owner was a sour old thing, and didn’t even smile at me when I told him he had a sweet, sweet ride. Dude, seriously, if you are going to drive around in this thing, you better get used to the gear heads drooling and making nice at you.

Bollywood then, and Bollywood now. With the King of Bollywood, and my other celebrity crush, Shah Rukh Kahn. Rawr.

We open with Suede, opining about the parting of Jerry: “Any decision that isn’t Suede going home is the right decision.” Or not, if Suede doesn’t start using the first person singular in the next hour.

Stella, over in the girl’s suite, monotones about some wheat grass shake that one of the triplets is making up for her: “I’m not a cow (that’s what SHE says).  I don’t like grass.” And Miz Shoes cocks one eyebrow, and thinks, hmmmm, what? Is crystal meth more her cocktail of choice?

IN THE MOOD

Or, conversely, back to Parsons’ runway for model selection. It goes by very fast, and since there are still more designers than Miz Shoes has attention span, some names may be omitted for

lack of concentration. Miz Shoes also has no doubt that many of these names are incorrect or merely misspelled or misheard. Miz Shoes does not know how long she can keep writing about herself in the third person without having to slap herself. About now, she thinks.

Kelli keeps Germaine; Joe takes Carpacio; Blayne & Erlina; Emily/Leslie; Keith/Runa; Jennifer/Alex; Wes?; Suede/Tia; Jerell (who is bemoaning the loss of his original model) opts for Nicole; Kenley/Shannon; ?/Kendall; ?/Katarina; Terri/Xavier; DanielV2.0/Bulimia and finally Leanne picks Karalyn.

The challenge for the week is to create a cocktail dress for their model, who is also the client.  The theme is young, glamorous woman. The first twist is that the designers will be working with green, environmentally sound textiles.

Once in the workroom, Tim drops this little bomb: The models will go to Mood and shop for their own materials.  Quiz: who had this to say about that:

“Oh, great. Someone who doesn’t know anything about fabric will be buying fabric for me.” Was it Jerell? Was it Stella? Was it Suede? Really, because I wrote that in my notes, but not who said it. I suspect Stella, because I can hear her whiny monotone saying that. Or Jerell, because he’s got the catty bitch role nailed this season. The models get $75 and the designers get ten hours. The models roll out of the workroom with one of the girl clones yelling “Don’t forget closures! Zippers! Buttons!” at their retreating backs.

Keith’s model, Roona, immediately grabs peacock tail feathers, and then tries to find fabric to match. This does not bode well. Jerell interviews that he’s expecting remnants and tatters. He should.

BACK IN THE SADDLE

Or, alternately, back in the Parsons’ workroom, where the models come back and dump their fibery treasures on the cutting tables, and prove that models have no clue about fashion, or at least how much fabric goes into a dress. Not a one of them has purchased enough yardage to cover their size zero asses, as we will shortly see. Not to foreshadow, or anything. Also, they travel in flocks, and bought in flocks, so there are several designers working with the same hideous brown satins and ivory hemp/silk combos.

Kenley is handed jersey, which she thinks is so not cocktail dress. Keith has those peacock feathers, and some champagne and peach fabric. Wesley gets the brown satin and something he calls a disgusting green that doesn’t go with it. I would call it more an un-lovely, washed out pistachio than disgusting green. But that’s just me.  Suede’s model brings the silk/hemp and some scarlet jersey. Suede says that Suede listened to what his model wanted. Suede says that Suede loves bias strips. Miz Shoes says, Oh, rilly? Then would Suede please come to Miz Shoes studio and make bias binding for all of her quilts, because Miz Shoes hates the bias strip.

Kendall is earthy and organic and wants something beachy and flowy, and has brought sea-colored jersey to her designer. Unfortunately, her designer is Stella. Stella is so not about the beach (unless there happens to be an epidemic of used hypodermics washing up on said beach). Stella admits that free is not her “design aesthetic” and that she is urban and bondage and tight. In what seems to be a theme for Stella, she pronounces that having to work outside her comfort zone is confusing to her. This is not what she does. She does leather. And for the record, my dear, dear darling Paulie of the House of Gallofornia does leather, too. And he doesn’t look like a rode hard hag and he would never, ever whine about having to work outside his comfort zone. I know, let it go.

Emily is happy with the green aspect of the challenge and interviews that the amount of chemicals and such that the textile industry dumps into the environment is, and I quote, “gnarly.” Thank you for expressing yourself so eloquently, Thing 1. Korto is yapping about being African, and her model being Latina and therefore the two of them have curves and she is all about the curves, and she is going to make a dress that shows off the curves.

And then we get to that tanorexic little troll, Blayne.  Blayne says that his pet name for Heidi is (and I may have to heave before I finish this sentence) Darth Licious. Because she’s all dark on the one side and light on the other or some such horse shit.  We need to talk. I loathe that little troll. I loathe the stupid knit hat with flair. I loathe the over-tanning. I hate the ‘holla’ crap. But mostly, and particularly, I hate the Licous. So, what shall we name Blayne?

Over in the other corner, Suede is talking about himself in the third person and getting on all the other designers’ nerves. Thing2 (Leanne) speaks for us all when she interviews that Suede needs to stop talking about himself in the third person. But then she totally blows her credibility out of the water by taking a perfectly acceptable, if not actually nice, dress and adding random, appliquéd shapes to it. Her basis is the same monkey-shit brown as Wesley. Korto is working herself into a tizzy by thinking that Wesley and she are making the same dress. Tim comes over to throw a little cold water on her. He looks at her dress, and makes a comment about the darts. Korto tells him that the darts are going to remain on the outside of the dress. This sets Tim back on the heels of his Florsheim wingtips. Hmmmmm. This all has to be perfection or you’ll be dealing with a hot mess, he says, and yes, that is an absolute direct quote. Oh, Timmy. You loved Christian, too. I bet Tim has the same Hot Mess, Tranny, Fierce t-shirt I do. Wesley is doing structured satin.

Tim arrives at Thing2’s work station and politely mentions that she has a whole lot of stuff going on, and that she needs to edit. Tone it down. Resolve it.  Oh, Pee Ess, the winner of today’s challenge will not be getting immunity. Rather, they will be having their dress manufactured and produced (and presumably sold) by Bluefly. Speaking of whom, get a new freakin’ ad. If I have to see that smug bitch walk naked through the airport one more time, I’m going to be tempted to stab her in the heart with those spiked heels. The other announcement has to do with the challenge judge: one young Hollywood starlet. OK. That narrows things down.

COMMERCIAL INTERLUDE

Wherein Bravo posts the following poll:

Which is crazier:

1. Blayne’s tanorexia

2. Stella’s leather fetish

3. Suede’s use of the third person

I don’t think anyone will argue with the premise that if your owners/handlers are pointing out your crazy foibles, that you are not in the running for the win.

THIS IS THE END

Back in the workroom, Daniel 2.0 is just hoping to get his garment finished. Where have we seen that before? But does he do the Daniel shuffle?

Kendall and Stella are having a fitting. Kendall is thrilled with the skin-tight, champagne colored, asymmetric, one-armed, laced-up-the-side sheath that Stella has made for her. She doesn’t mind in the least that Stella paid absolutely no attention to her desires, or even her fabric choices, because she says it looks better than what she had in mind. Playing to the stereotype of a dumb clothes hanger, are we, Kendall? Stella and Blayne get into a pissing/dissing match, then make up when Blayne tells Stella that he “loves [her] leatherface.” Nobody in the room seems to notice that he’s just called her a psychotic chainsaw-wielding murderer who makes sausages out of the dead.

Daniel 2.0 is still sewing. Wesley’s dress doesn’t fit. Jerell looks over and says that Team Ugly Brown Fabric seems a leetle panicked. Suede says that Suede will be rockin’ the show. His dress looks a little bit like bondage gear, what with all the strips and the red jersey showing through.

Out on the runway, we are introduced to our young starlet: Natalie Portman, who has started her own line of vegan shoes. So who better to judge the green challenge? Nobody. And we’re off.

Keith sends out a scalloped lamp shade in ivory something. Terri’s dress is simple, navy blue and has some interest at the neck. It is stylish and wearable. Wesely’s dress prompted the following note: “Ooof. Wrinkly.” and that wasn’t the worst of it. Jerell’s dress is blue, hemmed in peacock feathers and with side panels of something darker blue and sparkly. Wasn’t that the crap that Runa bought for Keith? My brain hurts. Whatever, it’s as ugly as homemade sin. Jennifer sends out something cute and floaty and grey and orange with color blocks and straps that look like the whole thing is sort of a jumper. I love it and would wear it. That’s the kiss of death. Daniel 2.0 sends out a totally boring baby doll with a lot of fabric in the back that makes it look sort of trapeze-y, sort of train-y and sort of not so hot.

Joe is another designer saddled with that ugly brown satin, and he has made an ugly brown slip dress with a stupid rhinestone-rimmed circular cut-out just between and below the boobs. Suede’s bandages have a tulle miniskirt. Kenley (Thing3) sends out something with an enormous, face-eating neck ruffle that looks like the dress that Thing1 (Emily) sent out last week, except without the color or dingleberries. Kelli’s dress is skin-tight and has a color-block bodice and a fauxlero with a ruffle.

Thing2 (Leanne) has produced a hot mess, just as Tim predicted. It’s way too short, it has pockets on the bottom hem, flounces and shapes and attached pieces and it’s wrinkly. Satin is the devil for wrinkles, ask the Fug Girls.  Stella’s dress is well made and skin tight and as much as I want to, I can’t hate it. I don’t love it, but it doesn’t suck, unlike, say, The Little Tan Troll’s asymmetric slop of a hot pink dress with a neck/sleeve combination that looks like someone tried to rip the dress off the model and only partially succeeded. Emily (Thing1) also has a baby doll dress, one which barely covers the model’s tootie. But that isn’t her fault, since it was the model who bought an insufficiency of fabric. There is some braiding. Is it Terri from last week, Rami of the Heavenly Arms from last season, or Santino from Season 2? Don’t know. Don’t care. Don’t love it, even if it were longer.

Korto’s dress of mustard colored something or another is immaculately constructed, and badly designed. But it fits like nothing else on that runway. Except, maybe, and it pains me to say this, Stella’s one armed banshee.

YOU SAY GOODBYE

Keith, Terri, Jerell, Jennifer, Daniel 2.0, Joe, Kelli, The Little Tan Troll and Thing 1 (Emily) are all safe and sent off the runway.

Kenley: NinaGarcia says that it is adult glamour. The black detail at the waist is declared chic. The judges declare that she’s the only one who handled this fabric correctly.

Wesley: He claims not to have had enough fabric. Heidi claims it is overworked. Michael Kors advises that satin, to look good, must look as though no human hands have touched it and Wesley’s dress looks like 20 sets of human hands have had their way with it. Also? Crazy short. It is at this point that NinaGarcia reveals the Universal Truth: “Shiny, tight and short is the quickest way to look cheap.” Word.

Stella: Michael likes the lacing and the fact that Stella’s personality comes through. Miz Shoes thinks that Michael hasn’t seen the footage of Stella’s personality enough to make that judgement. Queen Amidala says that she’s not fond of the asymmetry, but that the dress is nicely done. During the judges’ confab, MK says that Stella can make the Bicker Chick Chic.

Korto: The bottom is off balance and the flanges look like ass wings. MK says that even curvy girls don’t want fins on their asses. He would know. But, he says, that the inside-out darts were genius. Well, he liked them.

Suede: Natalie loves the dress and says she’d wear it. Heidi says that if she were 10 years younger, she’d wear it too. Miz Shoes has no clue in this world what it is about the dress that makes Heidi think she needs to be younger to wear it, since in this past year Heidi has worn a dress that showed her ass-crack, many dresses that are much shorter, and many dresses that were cut much lower. I think it may be the tulle skirt, which Queen Amidala says does NOT look like Ballerina Barbie, although it could have.

But look at this close-up, which I stole from the Project Rungay boys:

You call that well made? Uneven, lumpy, and messy. The bias strips are all pulling. That neckline is a disaster. I can’t believe that the judges didn’t jump all over this shit. But they didn’t. No, they rewarded it with the win. Because Suede can rock it. He is as gracious a winner as the Pencil-Necked-Shmoo ever was, and crows: Yeah, Suede fuckin’ won. Whoo-fuckin’ Hoo, says Miz Shoes, who can’t wait to see how that gets interpreted by the BlueFly group.

Leanne: Her model kills her by saying that it isn’t what she had in mind. Michael says that it’s five, five, five dresses in one, and that none of them were very good. Editing is a skill, and one she needs.

In the end, Leanne (Thing 3) is allowed to stay and try to learn editing, and Wesley is sent home for making something unflattering and a lousy fit. And for wearing red suede scuffs with a cut-off three-piece suit. Please, girl. You were cute, but nobody is that cute.