Project Runway's All-Star Challenge, Part Two

DAHLINGS –

Forgive the unpardonable lapse, but the preparation for Fashion Week Spring 2010 is simply too intense!

DID I HEAR YOU SIGH? WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SIGH ABOUT? THAT’S WHY I GIVE YOU AMPHETAMINES, YOU PATHETIC LUMP! FOR ENERGY! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO GET ANYTHING DONE IF YOU PASS OUT AGAIN??

Ahem.

Back to Project Runway’s All Star Challenge: as I mentioned, at every conceivable moment, Chris March was to be found asleep (including the model casting!). However, his collection was easily my favorite. Strong silhouettes, a marvelous plaid, I was even willing to forgive the spray of feathers on the red-carpet gown. In the workroom, Tim Gunn loved what Chris was creating, as well.

The most bizarre moment was when the designers were unwillingly dragged out for a pre-runway show “celebratory dinner.” After the meal, Tim Gunn proclaimed that they had to create a fourth look, made from materials in the restaurant around them.

A scene erupted that was straight out of a Marx Brothers movie—or, for those who don’t know who the Marx Brothers are (I pity you)—most comedies starring Adam Sandler, Will Ferrell, or Dane Cook. The designers literally tore the restaurant apart. One hopes the place was already scheduled for demolition.

However, as one of my guests remarked at that time, “This is what I love about this show. It gives weird constraints to talented people.” I could not have put it better.

The magnificent Diane von Fursternberg was the guest judge, and the usual suspects were back: Michael Kors and his pancake makeup, Nina Garcia, replete with hair extensions, and Heidi Klum, of course.

Santino, for all of his bragging, (“Project Runway didn’t make me, I made Project Runway”—pride goeth before a Fall Collection) could not get his four looks together in time, and it showed. Almost everything in Santino’s collection was made of metallic lycra, making all of the models come across as low-priced escorts.

"Pretty Woman, walking down the street, pretty woman..."

Mychael Knight’s restaurant dress looked like the model would scrub a kitchen with her torso. Neckthing simply sent ugly clothes down the runway, and they were all “auf’d.” As was Uli, despite her death-ray stares at Sweet P.

Mychael's restaurant dress

Neckthing's harem-pant jumpsuit...why, oh, why have harem pants come back??

Darling Chris March’s collection knocked it out of the park, to use one of my male guest’s expressions. Beautifully made, strong, dramatic…I want him to design a collection for moi! Are you reading this, Chris dear? He should have been given the win!

Chris's wonderfully chic restaurant dress!

Sweet P’s restaurant dress was the most interesting part of her collection: it looked like a giant walking cupcake.

Korto’s clothes were lovely, if perhaps much of a muchness. Very beautiful, very drapey and wearable, but somehow they lacked the spark I saw in her runway show in February. However, her restaurant dress was absolutely superb:

You cannot tell from this photo, but the construction was masterful and the textures extremely creative and wearable.

Daniel, of all people, got the win! His restaurant dress looked like something a mad bomber would wear; perhaps a model crazed with hunger? “Give me a cheeseburger or I’ll blow Heidi to bits!” And his clothes—ugly and uglier. And the models—I thought heroin chic went out years ago. Ugh.

So, I disagree with the judges. Ce qui est nouveau?

I shall try to post about the premiere episode of Season Six before the second episode airs, I promise!

Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Project Runway's All Star Challenge: Keeping Chris March Awake

DAHLINGS --

I am still reeling from three solid hours of Project Runway. (Models Of The Runway held no interest for me, sorry.) My viewing party was a smashing success, not at least because I had the bartender put double shots in the mojitos. After The Fashion Show, it was good to watch interesting people who know what they are doing. Competence is the new black.

Because my weekend schedule is ridiculously busy and I don’t trust my assistant to type this up properly from my notes, I shall have to dictate this blog-thing in sections over the weekend. My deepest apologies; one would have liked to go at it all in one big bash.

The All-Star Challenge was so reassuring. Not because of the designers, but because it took place in NEW YORK! There were Tim Gunn and a massively pregnant Heidi Klum (will she ever stop reproducing?) on the roof with champagne, there was our beloved Mood Fabrics in the Garment District, and the overwhelming amount of product placement. At one point in the program, two of the male designers were sitting on their beds with large piles of bright green Garnier products in front of them. We never did find out why. Lotion, perhaps?

The Bluefly.com Accessory Wall is now the Macy’s Accessory Wall. I have no idea if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Dear Darling Mama used to take moi to Macy's as a wee one.

However, it was annoying that various Lifetime personalities kept appearing during the breaks in essence to announce, "You're watching Lifetime! Ha hah! We won! We got Project Runway! Bite me, Bravo!" And there was a large lump in the lower right hand of the screen, counting down the minutes to the official season premiere. I'm not sure why this seemed so deeply insulting, but I do know how to tell time.

The website reads, “Eight of your favorite designers,” which actually means, “Many were asked, few accepted.” Laura Bennet and Christian Siriano, for example, declined to appear. But it did not matter to moi. My beloved Chris March was there, and Santino Rice in all his alienating egomaniacal madness. And how wonderful to see Korto Momolu, whom I had the immense pleasure of meeting during last February’s Fashion Week.


Neckthing, aka Jeffrey Sebalia, now has a mustache ala Sam Elliot in a Hallmark Western TV-movie, and has become an untalented musician in his spare time. (His girlfriend makes Patty Smith sound melodic.)

The prize was $100,000 in cash. One could hear the saliva hitting the floor when the prize was announced. It was presented as a “multilayered challenge,” which sounded rather like Amway. Or Isagenics. The designers had to create three looks in record time, including a runway dress for Nicole Kidman to wear to the premiere of her new movie “Nine.”

It was extremely cheap for a show with such an unlimited budget to show Ms. Kidman on tape rather than live. One can report that her face is still strangely frozen, which makes her smile rather frightening.

At Mood and in the workroom, Uli Herzner and Sweet P made the unfortunate discovery that they were separated at birth. Same fabric choices, same taste, the only significant difference was Uli’s pronounced lack of tattoos. Throughout the show, Uli kept trying to vaporize Sweet P with her laser-like glare, but it didn’t work. Santino laughed incessantly (and loudly), trash-talked the other contestants, and in general behaved like the man you love to hate. And he knows it.

Chris March's workroom look was stunning, a 40's inspired plaid jacket with a huge square collar. Tim loved what Chris was doing, as did I. Although throughout the show, including during the model casting, Chris kept falling asleep. This is worrisome. Does he have sleep apnea? It was presented humorously, but I can't help being concerned. If you're reading this, my dear Chris March, do see a doctor!

(It could have been narcolepsy, but he wasn't watching The Fashion Show.)

More later, dear readers -

Ciao,

Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

When Is A Pigeon A Turkey? When It's Marc Jacobs

Dahlings -

Well, Gotham Hall was simply packed on Wednesday night, where Marc Jacobs and his extremely tall partner Robert Duffy held their Venice Carnival-themed soiree. Marc simply loves New York--witness his Spring Ready To Wear 2007 collection, in which the clothes bear an eery resemblance to midtown New York street trash:




Note particularly how the second dress looks like dirty old newspaper on subway tracks. Quel chic!

Marc Jacobs contributed to trumpet his love of our fair city by costuming himselves as a pigeon, those filthy birds that drink out of puddles on the street and poop on your new Yves St. Laurent suit the first time you wear it out. Here he is, gaily befeathered, surrounded by syncophants of varying persuasions:

In real life, Marc Jacobs looks remarkably like Neckthing--I mean of course (ugh) Jeffrey Sebalia, who won this past season's "Project Runway".

So perhaps covering himself entirely was a wise choice on Marc's part. I for one, smiled at him and said nothing. At least Marc has the sense not to get his neck tattoed--yet.

Your faithful correspondent was dressed in a truly fabulous silk Venetian ballgown in a sapphire blue that matched my eyes, created in a small atelier in Paris. Rather than go with the prevailing trend of huge gold-like accessories, I wore a simple string of white pearls (real, of course) with earrings to match, my blonde hair swept up high with a small sapphire ribbon. Plunging decolletage as always. Even that hideous thing Lepore was hard-pressed to match it! Her mouth looks like a Salvador Dali artwork gone very, very wrong.

Bucky The Wonderdog made an ideal match, since he is the perfect size to be a dog at a Venetian court. He had a silk dog coat that matched my dress (the underside was synthetic, because you cannot remove dog urine from silk without leaving a noticeable stain). I carried him in my left arm. Bucky came in quite handy when any of the noticeably annoying nearly-naked dance performers mingling amongst the crowd on the dance floor came too close--as I've written before, those little teeth are razor sharp--and so fast, bless his heart! I was fortunate enough to have my dance partner whirl me away before they quite knew what hit them--or in this case, bit them. Doubtless unlike them, Bucky has had all of his shots.

The food left something to be desired...I've never read that they served Mini-Ritz crackers with the Brie in Venice of long-ago.

I danced the night away with George Milles, Robert Duffy (who whispered in my ear that just once he'd like to have his name on a purse!), and even a few important heterosexual men who would probably prefer their names not appear in print. When the final dance music ended, a shower of feathers fell from the ceiling, and a huge chorus of sneezes arose among the throng. Marc Jacobs had not taken into account his guests' allergies.

A typical uncaring New Yorker, you might say. But what can you expect of a man who dresses like a bird that defecates on couture?

Ciao,
Elisa and Bucky The Wonderdog

Neck-Thing Wins Project Runway! Quel Horror!

Dahlings -

My deepest apologies for taking so long to write. However, when the Neck-Thing WON Project Runway--(I can barely bring myself to type this)--

I KNOW I'M NOT ACTUALLY TYPING IT, YOU FOOL, BUT I MIGHT AS WELL BE, FOR ALL THE HELP I GET FROM YOU!

Ahem. As I was saying, the Neck-Thing won.



Jeffrey's hideous hodgepodge lacked taste, talent, and something beginning with t that I cannot think of just now. I have been in a swoon ever since Black Wednesday, lying in my boudoir, the shades drawn, barely able to eat the tidbits my maid brings me. In fact, Bucky managed to snatch quite a few of them before I could reach the plate. He's little, but he's fast. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that horrendous milkmaid dress with the poufy skirt coming at me-- AAAAH!



Pardonnez moi. I'm still quite frail.

WHAT ARE YOU LAUGHING AT? GET BACK TO THE KEYBOARD!

I gaped in horror as rag after rag paraded down the runway (thank GOD I was at a real fashion show at the time!). Laura Bennett's collection has been done hundreds of times, but it was rather like an old friend showing up to hold your hand. Uli's collection actually had a few wearable garments that would show off my poitrine most cunningly--



But Michael...dear, sweet Michael, what happened? Your collection reminded one of Times Square in the 1970s! (Not that I spent much time there, but I did occasionally look out of Mama's limousine window at the passing parade.) That gold bathing suit could have been worn by a female extra in the old Star Trek series.

And then, of course, we were subjected to Heidi Klum and her team of fashion assassins. She was salivating at the idea of kicking off not one, but three exhausted designers. I am sure that if Ms. Klum had her way, they would have been drawn and quartered as well. (One question has bothered me, and I would love to have it answered: when Ms. Klum kisses some one's cheek, is it burned?)

Well, it is over and life must go on. Perhaps tomorrow I shall be able to Face Life again. I shall start by calling the fellow over at the "Haute Cou-Poor" project. It will raise the spirits to discuss Balenciaga. He must be spinning in his grave like a top right now.

Ciao,
Elisa and Bucky the Wonderdog