OK, up until now I’ve kept mostly quiet about my addiction to Project Runway. I’m not a fashionista. I couldn’t tell you who wore who or what on the red carpet. I couldn’t spontaneously rattle names of five designers if my life or, in this case, a blog entry depended on it: Ralph Lauren, Versace, Prada, El Dulche and Gabor um.. see, I can’t do it. However, I do like watching catty bitches backstabbing each other while simultaneously producing something fabulous.
Bitchy queens cutting hair, I can’t seem to get into; but sit a diva down at a sewing machine and I’m gonna Tivo it. There’s something about some scrawny malnourished waif of human debris strutting down a three foot wide catwalk in tacky, outlandish garments that brings out the gay in me. Plus, I like saying “garment.”
I had to say something about this weeks auf’ing. Yes, Suede bugged the hell out of me, with his whole 3rd personishness and constant stories about his dead relatives giving him design tips, but he at least he wasn’t a delusional, egotistical, spoiled see-you-next-Tuesday like this Kenley wench. This is one of the most obvious producer-made decisions the show’s had and if it wasn’t for the fact that the last 5 designers showed at Bryant Park anyway, I’d really be upset.
Whatever the hell Bryant Park is.
I was waiting for LL Cool J to pop Kenley in the mouth after she basically called Hip-Hop fashion foolish to his face. I mean, the whole oversized clothing thing IS foolishness but I would never tell LL that to his face, shit.
Even his MAMA said knock her out.
If it wasn’t for Tim’s three pieced vested hotness I’m not sure I could have sat through this week’s awkward episode in one sitting, let alone twice. In slow motion.
While taking screenshots: