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Obligatory Project Runway Update
Jul. 20th, 2006 07:24 amIf I'm ever standing next to someone on the runway, and Nina Garcia fixes me with those spaniel-recovering-from-severe-distemper eyes, asking, "Which of you deserves to go home?" I will point at the person standing next to me and scream at the top of my lungs, "He does! He does! He fucked up!"
That's a promise.
Because if Project Runway teaches us anything, it teaches us this: professional success is all about the Judas kiss.
Malan, the weird Malaysian designer with the chilling laugh, forgot this for a moment. Well, really, I don't blame him. He'd just designed an evening gown that looked exactly like a large piece of rotting Mendocino redwood, complete with sprouting mushrooms, and he was a good enough designer to feel the shame.
Though I think another component of professional success – this one's not in the Project Runway lesson plan, true, but hey! most adult education takes place outside the lines – is: pretend it's what you wanted to do.
Malan was edited very differently this week. He was diffident, he was deferential. He had ancient acne scars. He was going to show his mother. The producers even eschewed the traditional PR ending – Tim Gunn turning to the vanquished designer and ordering genially, "All right! Go upstairs and extinguish any signs that you ever existed from the work space." No, instead they showed Malan crying silently in the greenroom with a voiceover: he'd never belonged anywhere and now he didn't belong here.
I confess. I reached for my Kleenex.
If anyone deserved to go home, it was Angela and not because she drove Vincent batty but because she wore that stupid fuscia ballerina tutu to the runway. What was she thinking? So she has skinny legs and a flat ass! Does that make her Gelsie Kirkland? I think not!
I actually kind of liked Vincent's dress – gorgeous apple green color and the butterfly sleeves worked for me.
The worst dress for me was scary Mrs. Architect's. I mean Miss USA only said like six million times, "I don't want white."
And speaking of scary – Miss USA's eyebrows!
That's a promise.
Because if Project Runway teaches us anything, it teaches us this: professional success is all about the Judas kiss.
Malan, the weird Malaysian designer with the chilling laugh, forgot this for a moment. Well, really, I don't blame him. He'd just designed an evening gown that looked exactly like a large piece of rotting Mendocino redwood, complete with sprouting mushrooms, and he was a good enough designer to feel the shame.
Though I think another component of professional success – this one's not in the Project Runway lesson plan, true, but hey! most adult education takes place outside the lines – is: pretend it's what you wanted to do.
Malan was edited very differently this week. He was diffident, he was deferential. He had ancient acne scars. He was going to show his mother. The producers even eschewed the traditional PR ending – Tim Gunn turning to the vanquished designer and ordering genially, "All right! Go upstairs and extinguish any signs that you ever existed from the work space." No, instead they showed Malan crying silently in the greenroom with a voiceover: he'd never belonged anywhere and now he didn't belong here.
I confess. I reached for my Kleenex.
If anyone deserved to go home, it was Angela and not because she drove Vincent batty but because she wore that stupid fuscia ballerina tutu to the runway. What was she thinking? So she has skinny legs and a flat ass! Does that make her Gelsie Kirkland? I think not!
I actually kind of liked Vincent's dress – gorgeous apple green color and the butterfly sleeves worked for me.
The worst dress for me was scary Mrs. Architect's. I mean Miss USA only said like six million times, "I don't want white."
And speaking of scary – Miss USA's eyebrows!
