Project Runway Season Eight Premiere, Part Two

DAHLINGS -

There is simply so much to cover in this season premiere, it had to take two posts!

When we last heard, there were 17 designers instead of the usual 16, and they had five hours to create a garment out of someone else's piece of clothing. And this was considered an audition for the show itself; it was guaranteed that one or more of the contestants would be going home. And you just finished packing and had that big going-away party. Bummer.

We watched them sweat, freak out, etc., the usual workroom scenes, except for the small amount of time. I'm guessing that Jason isn't going so much for a signature look with that idiotic bowler, he's probably bald.

Now to the interesting part: the runway. What a delight to see that the Bright Orange Oracle of Fashion, Michael Kors, was in his rightful place! Next to him was Nina Garcia, who has actually started to sprout a personality. (I love how Heidi pronounces her name with a heavy inflection, the way politically correct folk in the 80s used to pronounce Nicaragua "Nee-haw- wagrah".) Heidi was actually wearing an age appropriate dress for a change. Are the Four Horsemen here yet?

The special guest judge was actress Selma Blair. Not to worry, nobody in our viewing party could place her, either. She resembles a squinty Katie Holmes.

When Heidi came out and greeted the designers before the execution--er, runway show--the contestants were wetting themselves even more than usual. She rattled off "you're in or you're out" in rote fashion before the show began.

A side note: the models tonight were terrible. The way they clumped down the runway, they would make a Dior look bad.

Valerie made this eye-bleeding monstrosity from, I believe, Casanova's Dolce & Gabbana trousers.

Afghanistan hooker dress, made of combat material w/ false blood for added piquance.

McKell fashioned a cute little number from a blue button-down shirt.

Ivy took a pair of flowered, matronly pants and transformed them into--flowery, matronly capris! Along with a sloppily made silk top that was supposed to match in some way not meant for this universe.

"Oh my God, there's a sale at Pathmark!"

Unlike the judges, I liked Nicholas's long gown, made out of a pleather bomber jacket, using the bottom rib trim for the neckline.
April "deconstructed" a tuxedo jacket by...well...deconstructing it, which consisted of turning it inside out. Mighty Goth there, dahling!

This dress is for when Wilma Flintstone wants to get down with her bad self.

Gretchen sent out a glamorous dress that moved well on the runway, with small beaded fringe on the shoulders. Don't ask me what she made it out of, because I don't care.

Jason's dress was made from a black kimono. Although impeccably styled, the actual garment looked like a monk's habit hastily pulled on backwards by a monk fleeing a medieval monastery.

Casanova's "dress", if you can call it that, was made out of a small blue blouse. Tim had tried to talk him into making something halfway less acceptable. But Casanova stuck to his guns, describing his creation as "sexy but not vulgar." According to my notes, my first reaction was: JESUS!

Since I usually only use that word when I am actually addressing Jesus when he stops by, you can see how shocked I was. The judges agreed, and I simply cannot top the Duchess's assessment: "a pole dancer in Dubai". I love that neon orange bitch! Casanova's English is terrible, so we actually got the treat of listening to Nina speak to him in Spanish. I wish she would do all of her critiques in Spanish, it's so much more expressive. Then we wouldn't have to hear "questionable taste" and "chic" repeated in every show.

During the commercial break, I knew that Bunim/Murray had calculated who would not go home, regardless of talent, because they are perfect reality television personalities.

Casanova ? Check. He won't get the boot if he sends a dress made of cat turds down the runway.

Peach? Check. Not only did she make a lovely dress but she is also a lot of fun, rather like Paula Deen would be if she were sane.

Jason? With that hat? Of course. Check.

In the end, Gretchen won.

"I won, bitches!"

Poor little McKell was auf'd. But at least I don't have to look at those dreadlocks any more.

One more thing to be grateful for: no more Models Of The Runway! If I wanted to listen to skinny ninnies babbling about nothing, I'd watch Kathie Lee and Hoda.

Ciao,

Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

(all images courtesy of mylifetime.com)