PWEVIOUSWY ON PWOJECT WUNWAY: Blah, blah pretty dresses, crazy dresses, auf, auf, auf, Irina, Carol Hannah, Althea.
We open in the golden light of the girls' apartment, where Carol Hannah tries to brush her teeth while Althea and Irina gossip about her over breakfast. Althea informs Irina that "Carol Hannah got really sick last night" and Irina says, "Really? Why?" Because she's SICK like she was YESTERDAY, you self-obsessed twit.
They meet up with their aufed minions in the workroom — Logan gives the rocky and barfy Carol Hannah a hug and interviews sympathetically about her situation; Christopher is kind to her as well. The designers go to hair and makeup.
The one and only Collier Strong meets with Irina, who shows him the helmety mohawky cloches she's made for her models. She wants dark shadows.
But wait! Althea wants dirty" glamour — "almost, like, smudged," as Collier digs out ye olde kohl pots again. Carol Hannah wants soft and pretty, because she's made of unicorns and rainbows and kittens.
FOR ANYONE WHO isn't past caring about which giggly scissor-monkey will take the big prize, we're going to plunge boldly into the first part of the season finale. But a warning: It's as boring as the previous episodes, only with a higher percentage of pretty girls. And we only see Heidi for a minute.
So, Heidi charges the finalists — Althea, Irina and Carol Hannah — with creating a 12-piece collection for $9,000 and "a few months" to do the work. I'm telling you right now, ladies, you're going to have to do an extra piece.
Heidi and Tim celebrate sighting the finish line of this godforsaken season with silhouetted booty-shaking behind the PR Runway screen, and I must say, Tim Gunn acquits himself very cutely. Not that I want to ever see that again, but you take what you can get this year.
You Stole My Sweatergate drags on in the talking-head interviews, but no one cares anymore.
DWINDLE, DWINDLE, LITTLE STARS. The five remaining designers will be sliced to three by the end of the episode, so the pressure's on, especially for Christopher, who's the last man standing. And, considering how copiously he cries, I use the word "man" advisedly.
Heidi sends them to meet Tim Gunn at "an iconic place," which turns out to be the Getty Museum. Ooh, I love that place. When I was little, I used to wander around there pretending I lived in it, wondering where to put the couch.
L.A. mayor Antonio Villaraigosa has nothing better to do than greet the scissor monkeys. Tim gives them their assignment: Explore the museum, the architecture, the grounds and the beautiful ocean view for inspiration, with their models at their sides to serve as muses.
"There's so much to see," says Lonely Boy. "So much to not touch." Say, Handsy McTearduct, have you ever been in a museum before?
THAT'S ONE "PROJECT RUNWAY" mystery solved: how Althea gets her hair like that. She puts it in a bazillion fat curlers at night and most likely sleeps upright like Betty Draper. Totally worth it, too.
So, morning among the dwindling scissor monkeys. There are two boys left, Chris and Logan, and four girls. Carol Hannah vows to not make another dress. Mark that; it will come into play later.
At Heidi's summons (how come no one squeals, "Heidimail!"?), they are lured to the sad, empty runway set and seated facing away from the runway. No, no one is about to be bashed over the head with a portable Singer by a vengeful Michael Kors. They turn around to see their winning looks standing in silent, unpopulated judgment. El, Logan doesn't have a winning look, but he does have tight silver jeans.
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YOU KNOW THE fine print during the end credits of a reality show? You really should hit pause on the DVR to read it. It states that the producers have a say in who stays and who goes, in addition to a contestant's demonstrated abilities. Whomever makes the best looks during a challenge may not necessarily be the winner; and whomever makes the worst looks may not necessarily be auf'd. So it really isn't just about talent and who made the best and worst pieces for each challenge, but about who will make better television if they stay.
Aha! That explains Christopher Straub. Yes, yes, he's a little prince. Seems so sensitive, so truly ruffled when the judges chastise his latest train wreck garment as it stumbles down the runway. (Admittedly, I think his costume challenge was right on target.) But even he's confiding in us from the other side of the teavee that things have been going downhill.
The picnic table dress he made with Rodney Epperson was a disaster. Drrty shorts that made Christina Aguilera want to bundle up. And the criticisms foisted on the lad have been so pointed, so severe, we really do wonder how he's stayed in the game this long. Is it that he's the only contestant on the show we the viewers may find less boring, less bitchy, tolerable?
Maybe I'm being a little mean. I did love the fact that Dame Michael Kors is now at the crossover point between George Hamilton and La Toya Jackson on the complexion color wheel.
PWEVIOUSLY ON "PWOJECT WUNWAY," as Heidi says, I miss two measly Thursdays and the judges take advantage of my absence by aufing Louise and Epperson. Thanks, Christopher Roy Correa, for stepping in and working it for the past two weeks. I hope the commenters were nice to you.
And Gordana won a little something, so that's cool.
THE X FACTOR
Heidi, wearing hideous red and black-patterned skinny trousers, sends the scissor monkeys off to the Museum at the Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising to meet with Tim Gunn and OMG it's Bob Mackie! I heart that tacky son of a gun. They'll be making dazzling stage costumes for someone who sounds like Beyonce but will probably be some sub-arena backup singer but turns out to be Christina Aguilera, and that's good. She's a thing. The only downside is that Chris March is nowhere in sight.
Words you hear a lot on this episode: "ice-skating" "Halloween," "prom," "sparkle panties." Also "Guinevere meets Vampira," but only once. And Tim says "super-sexy slut." But he may say that more often than we hear on camera.
The designers hustle through Mood grabbing feathers, sequins and, in the case of Shirin, a swatch of prom-dress red satin that everyone hates, including her. In fact, they're all super-excited about the challenge, until they serially begin despising everything they bought. Carol Hannah doesn't know what she'll do with the nutso black, blue and silver glittery crap on her table, which looks like the makings of Albus Dumbledore's best-man robes. Gordana walks away from her beads and flops down on the couch, looking about 102. They file out of the workroom disconsolately, only the Viscount of Feathers, Nicolas, dancing from foot to foot with glee over his white ice-dancing costume.
This week's Runway Jury is being guest blogged by Christopher Roy Correa.
LAST WEEK'S YAWNUR" didn't feature a wedding-themed challenge, but it might as well have been about going to the chapel; the scissor monkeys were instructed to design an outfit that looked both old, borrowed and blue.
It was tapioca bland.
Well, I'm happy to report that that ill-informed episode of "Project Runway" was an unintentionally swift lead-in to last night's. That's right, kittens, it was about bridal gowns. Not making one, or even putting a spin on the frock that has heretofore been known across fashiondom as "Wang's wheelhouse."
Nope, for this episode, the idea was to deconstruct the wedding dress — tear it apart, dye it beyond recognition, whore it up real good — for a group of women with divorce on the brain. Will this challenge torpedo the designers the way a wedding dress refurb blew season four's Steven out of the water? Might it give the single gals some closure? They're going to model their altered designs down the runway? Fun!
Tim Gunn was in fine form, finally. He said the word "divorcees" four times, and it seemed to gain syllables and resonance with each utterance: "Designers, I'm inviting the dee-VOR-Say-zuh" into the workroom."
Magic.
So here's something to ponder: What kind of opinions can you foist on a season if you haven't seen it? That question wasn't for you, folks — I know you're busy and if you miss a show here and there, well, that's what this recap is for. Nina, can you hear me? Tell you what, sugar, sit the rest of this one out. Or be the guest judge at the finale. It's just that, for the majority of this season, we've sorta been seeing other people.
This week's Runway Jury is being guest blogged by Christopher Roy Correa.
THIS SEASON JUST won't take off, will it? It has a little momentum, at times, but has been overstuffed with guest (read: celebrity) judges and taxis around while we wait, with bated breath, for each time capsule of a sow to give us some kind of surprise. Sure, what transpires onscreen has already happened (in that faraway place called 2008!), but this is the "Runway" — it's supposed to feel fresh, frustrating, fun.
ABOUT LAST NIGHT
Last night's show felt like something old, borrowed — and blue. Was the original theme wedding-related? There was enough talk of bridesmaid dresses, after all.
So here's the rundown.
WHERE WERE WE?
Johnny's gone; Tim is incensed at preposterousness; Nicolas is a little bitch. Professor Carol Hannah Whitfield announced the discovery of a cure for cancer; Louise and I have agreed to just be good friends; and Gordana, despite her talent, has become complete invisible.
At least this week's challenge is as good as last week's — better, even, since it involves fabric. The designers are herded onto what Tim Gunn calls "a real Hollywood soundstage" — way to sound like a hick from the sticks, TG — where makeup muse Collier Strong is on hand to help with the all-important styling.
The challenge is to create a design from a film genre, to choose a character and back story and make an outfit that reflects the character and her story. So it's really more of a costume challenge, which should put my good friend Louise and dark horse Epperson, with his flair for the dramatic, up front.
But we shall see.
THIS IS THE FIRST epic episode of the sixth season, and it sure took them long enough.
I have nothing nice to say about the ho-hum challenges, the slipshod cycling in and out of judges and the blatant producer manipulation among the wins and losses, and blame Bunim-Murray for everything wrong with this season.
But at least a challenge that's genuinely challenging begins forcing the designers to be creative, to aim high and fail spectacularly, and to be humungous bitches about it.
And isn't that why we tune in?
So the claws are coming out — as are the insecurities.
Johnny Drama claims that landing in the bottom three feels like being punched in the stomach, while Irina straightforwardly believes Althea's outfit did not deserve to win, because her outfit wasn't good enough.
Nicolas isn't nervous, but he should be.
Ah, delusion — it's nice to have you back.
Addison Road