you're out...

I’ve got a rep as a fag hag, but I think the truth of the matter is, I’ve evolved into a metro-hag. The number of “I hate Santino” text messages I received last night from straight men in response to Project Runway’s Nikki Hilton episode is staggering.
Why is it, I wonder, that straight men are so obsessed with this admittedly fabulous show, in which a collection of wanna-be fashion designers compete against each other in bizarre tasks. Judged by Heidi Klum and the glorious Michael Kors, among others, the designers run the gamut from Marla, the 51 year old boutique owner who doesn’t know what bias means, to Santino, the “30” year old talented villain in stilettos and facial hair.
One would expect Zoe and I to sit around, eyes glued to the TV, lips glued to our wineglass, but Man on the Inside? MOI is completely addicted.
For those that watch, let’s agree that the best thing about Runway is Tim Gunn, the uber-gay svengali who wanders around looking at people’s work as they fervently rush to finish it by the obscene deadlines, points to the mannequin and says things like, “Um, I’m not so sure about what’s going on here. You’ve got 16 minutes left. Can you change it?”
Fabulous.
Because it’s reality TV, at the end of each episode, someone is eliminated, along with a corresponding model, who apparently isn’t allowed to speak. At least one gay cries and someone always gets verbally abusive, adding to the excitement and genius of the show. And after the tears, bitch-slaps and tantrums, Heidi turns to the rejected designer and with a divine, German smugness, smiles and says, Auf weidersehen...