I tried not to watch it. But everyone kept talking about it. On and on, they went. “Are you watching? Who do you think will win? I hate Wendy!”
I’m speaking of course about Project Runway. We’ve all heard the buzz, particularly if you hang out with metrosexual fashionistas who aspire to Tom Ford-like status (read: Jason) and speak of little else. Being that my old design school chum, Jay, was one of the last three finalists, I decided to plunk down in front of the TV last night and watch the marathon, all leading up to the 2 hour grand finale.
Hooked immediately, I had to text Jason with my never ending opinions on who sucks and who rocks, who wears too much make-up (the sprite-like Austin) and who doesn’t wear enough (the villainess, Wendy.) Jason could merely text back his impending excitement for 9pm, which is when the much-anticipated finale would begin.
Finally, amid cat fights and broken accessories, we made it to Fashion Week, where the three finalists would present their collections and the world would finally know who the next great American designer will be! Judged by the fashion director of Elle, designer Michael Kors, and a sunglasses wearing, afro haired Parker Posey, finalists Kara Saun, Wendy, and Jay presented their masterpieces.
Kara Saun, while talented and consistent throughout the previous episodes, had a really off collection, inspired by the snooze-fest, The Aviator, with trains that were too long and sneaky access to cheap shoes. Wendy, who sucks the positive energy out of everything, presented the reject line from Jessica McClintock and exploited her poorly dressed child at every opportunity. And Textile trained Jay, well, he rocked the catwalk and blew everyone’s mind.
Needless to say, my fellow alumni was presented with his tiara, so to speak, and while shocked, was beyond gracious in his neon knit cap and Tijuana poncho. Wendy was sent back to Appalacia, where she belongs, and must now go back to making debutante dresses and 50th anniversary gowns for the gals down the block. Good riddance.
The reality of Runway is that while a fabulous look into the making of a collection, it’s really just an extended version of The Real World, The Apprentice, and Big Brother. The only benefit here is that we have fabulously dressed gays chain-smoking, downing Cristal, and providing one-liners such as “Finally, something happens to Miss Fucking Perfect. Love it!”