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

Project Runway Scandale! And: Size 6 is Plus Size?

Dahlings,

Yes, I needed a very large daiquiri, but I steeled myself and watched the 'Finale Part One' (isn't that an oxymoron? Moron being the operative word) of Project Runway the other night.

Mon dieu. So it seems the Neck-Thing, or Jeffrey, as he is named, did not do the sensible thing with his $8,000 and get a chin implant. Rather, he outsourced his sewing. Naughty boy. Meanwhile, poor Laura, who simply cannot stop breeding, was upset enough to report him to that tall fellow who oozes sympathy. Emphasis on the ooze. I checked the Project Runway message board out of curiosity. Again, mon dieu! Do these illiterate peasants know how to spell? They certainly do not know how to type. In fact, they are as pathetic as my personal assistant--

DON'T YOU DARE GIVE ME THAT LOOK! KEEP TYPING, YOU NIGHTMARE IN LEGGINGS!

Excuse me. As I was saying, are these people all in junior high school? (Public junior high school, I hasten to add.) All of the messages calling Laura obscene names, threatening to never watch the show again if Neck-Thing gets disqualified...

I was going to say, Get A Life, but William Shatner beat me to it, years ago. Damn. The home visits were nice enough, thank goodness Vincent did not make it to the Final Four. And the program was blessedly Klum-free. Although I did not believe for a moment the tall man's comment that she finds kicking people off the show painful at times. If she does, it's painful in a good way, if you know what I mean. The woman should have been a dentist.

Speaking of dentists, I had the oral hygienist give me a thorough cleaning. My teeth are as sparkling as when I first got my Zoom whitening. And my assistant has been interviewing new maids. It's impossible to get good help these days, as my dear friend Foxie remarked.

But I digress. While perusing the website, I was shocked--shocked!--to find out that a size 6 model is considered PLUS SIZE. Are these people deranged? That model was the only one whose knees looked remotely like knees, and not like baseballs balanced on twigs! THIS is what an actual size 6 looks like, my dears:



I have written here before about the shocking trend toward the Dachau look in fashion, and the disturbing rise of the clavicle. (And an ill-tempered clavicle it is!) We women of Rubenesque dimensions must band together and DEMAND that fashion take note of bosoms, buttocks, legs, plump dimpled elbows, and all of those other beautiful touches that make a female...well, female.

One can only be grateful to have missed the 'Everyday Woman' episode. These people must be stopped. Please send in suggestions for ways to take action!

And now to business--here are some lovely fashions I am offering for the normally-endowed female:







Ciao for now,
Elisa and Bucky the Wonderdog