Friday, August 8, 2008

Project Runway - Hello, Olympics, Goodbye, Dali!

DAHLINGS –

The Olympics have started, but it’s the end for Jennifer, whose mantra was that her vision was “Holly Golightly at a Salvador Dali exhibit.” Poor deluded little thing. This week’s challenge was to create outfits for the female athletes at the opening ceremonies of the Summer Olympics. Simple enough, wouldn’t you think?

Non. Not for this bunch.

Most of them were thrown into a designing tizzy, resulting in some of the oddest athletic wear I have seen since I was accidentally taken to a Burning Man some years ago. Jennifer could simply not grasp the concept, and ended up creating Olympic Barbie:

What this outfit has to do with the Olympics, with athletics, with China, I have no idea. And neither did she. Which got her promptly, and understandably, auf’d. Since I only noticed her in the last episode, I cannot say that I am sorry, although I am hoping Leatha Stella gets the biker boot soon. Is it me, or she sending the same sad outfit down the runway again and again?


For some reason, one kept flashing on John McCain at that biker's rally, listening to the bikers waste gallons of fuel gunning their motors as he ridiculed tire gauges.

But I digress. Joe was spot on when he said, “There’s too much drama because there’s too many queens around.” He quietly went ahead and created what your faithful correspondent felt should have been the winning outfit, even with that odd hemline. (It should be noted that many of the so-called even hemlines this season have been, on close-up, as they say, “craptastic”.) This was one of the few times the cliché of the straight man’s fondness for sports actually came in handy.




However, he lost to Korto, whose outfit was nice enough, but not terribly exciting for moi. But at least the curvaceously creative Liberian native is still on the show, which is a plus in more ways than one.



Speaking of queens, was that a collective sound of lustful panting that arose when Apolo Ohno skated up to the designers? Even Tim Gunn looked as though he was thinking, “I’d love to get that outfit off your supremely muscled diminutive physique and show you that this older chap can still do a few gymnastics of his own.”

Commandant Heidi began the show by looking as though both her spray-on tan and sprayed-on leather pants had been heavily greased. Perhaps she had just finished roasting one of her children over an open spit. For the runway, she wore an odd chain-mail outfit, that like most of her runway outfits, are letting her evil side show more than ever. They might need to have an exorcism on the set after the series ends at this rate.

Getting back to the designers and their utter bafflement at the challenge, take a look at this horror by Jerrell:



Didn’t Minnie Pearl once wear that hat? The outfit is a puffy pouffy nightmare, dahlings, no doubt about it. With capri leggings, no less. (And if, like tanorexic Blayne, you don’t remember the Beatles, surely you won’t know who Minnie Pearl is. But I care not.) Like most of the designers, he threw caution and intelligence to the wind. It is a miracle he did not get auf'd. Perhaps it was because during the runway he was actually wearing something more interesting on his head than Kenley.

Daniel sent a cocktail dress, of all things, down the runway! Isn’t he capable of designing anything else?? Are we going to be seeing cocktail dresses made of tin foil, cocktail dresses ala Jane Austen, military cocktail dresses? Of course, one cannot top Michael Kors’s comment that Daniel’s dress looked as though it came from “the Republic of Cocktail Land.” Daniel is the Sweet P of this season, slowly inching his way to a complete mental breakdown. My heart breaks whenever they show him in the workroom, agonizing over his latest...cocktail dress.

For a little fun from the last episode, compare this latest photo of last week's judge Sandra Bernhard with the poster for her upcoming revival.



As I wrote previously, someone has too much time on their hands. Unlike moi!

Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Today's Fashion Tip:

Do NOT let this happen to you or anyone else you know!

Terrifying.

Thursday, August 7, 2008

Florence of Arabia in Fire Island...

DAHLINGS -

It's been days and I am STILL absolutely exhausted! Why, oh, why did I leave my fabulous (featured in Architectural Digest) oceanfront mansion and go to The Pines on Fire Island? Well, for one thing, I was invited to an only slightly less fabulous (not featured in Architectural Digest) oceanfront mansion for luncheon with other members of the fabulous fashion community. One can surmise my fatigue level from my overuse of the word "fabulous."

In ANY event, the luncheon was tasty (if vegan), the host was très célèbre, as were most of the guests, and the gossip was even tastier than the food. Mostly about Aubrey O'Day and Linda Hearst, and that sort of thing.

Luncheon over, some of the guests went downstairs for a nap, some went upstairs for casual unprotected sex, but yours truly did the wrong thing:

I went for a stroll. To Cherry Grove.

For those of you who don't know this (as I did not), Cherry Grove is about 300 miles away from the Pines on foot, if only ten feet by private yacht. And of course stilleto heels were hardly the right attire for a rickety wooden boardwalk. However, I still had the slightest of hangovers from the Dior Beauty party in Easthampton the night before. Tinsley Mortimer was there, in a lovely green Dior gown, with Topper, and we were all terribly tactful about the failure of her reality show.



The problem is, dear Ms. Mortimer has no discernible personality, so the crew filmed for days and was left with nothing but footage of a blonde stick figure applying makeup over over.

Rather like "Groundhog Day," but pointless.

ANYWAY, back to my misguided Adventure. As always, I was covered in veils and sunblock, with my assistant walking the mandatory ten paces behind me. We walked and walked and walked...what was astonishing was the terrible condition of the boardwalks between the multi-million houses. It wove up and down, up and down. It was ENDLESS! Thank God I had left Bucky the Wonderdog back at my fabulous (featured in Architectural Digest) oceanfront mansion!

We passed one house with a flyer for a show in Cherry Grove, featuring a singer whose quote was "Show stopping lesbian!" Pondering what made the difference between an ordinary lesbian and a show-stopping lesbian at least made the time pass.

Soon, the unthinkable happened:

I started to perspire.

"Cool me off! I am perishing from the heat!" I snapped to my assistant. She simply stood there gaping at me, sweat streaming down her face. The idiot had not thought to bring a thermos of cocktails! I whipped back and continued to walk, and soon the boardwalk ended, at the edge of a FOREST, of all things. A handsome young nearly naked man was jogging towards me, and I hailed him with a cry of despair: "WHERE IS CHERRY GROVE?"

"Oh, honey, you follow the trees with the yellow paint on them." He pointed from where he had come, the deep forest, lined with a green algae-covered swamp. No one loves nature more than moi, but at a safe distance. My shoes! My pedicure! We staggered through the woods, where I had to repeatedly duck under branches and occasionally step over coupling males, and came out into...

a desert. The sun beat down upon me, and my assistant gasped like a snapper on a hot wooden dock. The sand was far too hot to take off my shoes (my assistant took hers off, little fool, and started to howl with pain. It gave me a certain satisfaction, given my overheated, soaking state. I prayed I would not see anyone I knew!). Like a beautiful Lawrence of Arabia, I made my way across the desert under the baking sun, and then there came the Sign:

CHERRY GROVE (with an arrow)!

We made it into town, where I was able to slake my thirst with a frozen margarita. (My assistant chose pink lemonade--pah!)

That is why you have not heard from me...the sunburn alone had me prostrated. My beautiful skin, scalded! I have been applying aloe vera by the handful. It has not been so much the physical pain, as much as the emotional torture of looking in the mirror and seeing a lobster-red face and chest looking back. I shall not be seen in public again until it has faded.

Later, dahlings -

Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Friday, August 1, 2008

Project Runway Makes "New York At Night" Milwaukee

DAHLINGS -

As much as your faithful correspondent hates to admit it, this is one of the most boring bunch of designers I have ever witnessed. The idea of having lunch with any one of them makes me want to turn off my Blackberry and hide.

Mon dieu, who is Jennifer and where did she come from? Has she been on the show all of this time? Suede, as much as I dislike him, stands out because he has a discernible personality. Even if it is an overly self-confident teenager who talks about himself in the third person. The Fashionista refuses to talk about herself in the third person--

Oh, damn, it's catching.

This week's challenge was to take pictures of New York at night, and be inspired. Can you imagine what Chris March would have done with this one? Or Christian? Or even Neckthing (Jeffrey Sebalia)? But no, a parade of dreariness made its way down the runway.

However, there are two designers I particularly like, and one of them made the top three, and the other won this week's challenge! The first, of course, is Terri, who has been greviously overlooked in previous episodes. Yours truly thinks her beautiful floaty dress over pants should have won; it had all the style, sophistication and what some like to call "street" that the others lacked. Even though I generally detest dresses worn over pants (one sees know-nothing college girls in them constantly), this had more of the feeling of a tunic.



The second is Kenley, who has a delightful 40s personal style, bright red lipstick and always something fascinating on top of her head:



However, her dress had something grotesque on its side. Rather like those things they remove from people on the Discovery Health Channel. While I did not care for the design (besides the ill-advised tulle, it looked tight, hot and uncomfortable), I have enjoyed her other designs, and she is extremely creative.



The guest judge was D-list actress Sandra Bernhard, there to flog her upcoming one-woman show tour (which has already run Off-Broadway and been made into a movie...someone has too much time on their hands). Ms. Bernhard seemed to have had bad plastic surgery less than a week before the show. She had nothing of interest to say, which only added to the air of ennui surrounding this week's episode.



The comments about this dress simply were offensive.



"Vintage," of course, was used as if it were a four-letter word, the stuck-up swines. And yes, it was a tad matronly, but what about Keith's toilet-paper dress? That had absolutely nothing to do with his inspiration. At least whoever-it-was tried.

Emily was auf'd for her little black can-can vomit dress. How can one have a new you-know-what ripped by the august Mr. Gunn and then say something as purely idiotic as "Tim gave my dress a mixed review, but I like it"? Why is no-one listening to the man? Tim Gunn is the good cop, for goodness sake!

Perhaps now that there are fewer designers, I might be able to remember who they are. But perhaps not.

Oh, here's a little tid-bit: Nina Garcia showing off her effervescent personality at Mood.



How can one look at anyone else when she is onscreen?

Actually, it's easy. At least this week she bestirred herself to greet the designers, unlike last week.

Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

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