Thursday, September 07, 2006

Project Runway: The Curse of the Fleurchon

--WARNING-- This recap may not be suitable for those with delicate constitutions, as it contains an occurrence so rare that it shocked me to the point of light-headedness: I disagreed with Tim Gunn.

This episode also brings to an end one of my biggest pet peeves of the season: the same Collier Strong makeup tip every damn week. Finally he gives us some new advice (smoky eyes) instead of the "natural look for day" that involves three layers of foundation, concealer, and powder on a model with already flawless skin.

Now that we've gotten that out of the way, this week the designers (still in gay Par-ee, possible emphasis on the "gay") had to design couture-esque gowns. "Couture-esque" because apparently true couture is only made after years of intense training and with the approval of the French government. Who knew?

The designers seem extra-catty for this challenge (something in the French water? Or am I forgetting how catty they used to be?), which I kind of love. And there are thankfully few references to Angela, although her legacy lives on in the "Caution: 'Fleurchamps' making in progress" sign where Laura's working. Her legacy also lives on in a darker, more menacing fashion (Fashion, get it?), which I will get into later. Incidentally, I admittedly don't know how pregnancy works from firsthand experience, but Laura sure popped that bump out fast! Way to go from zero to sixty on the pregnancy meter in one episode, Laura!

Laura's gown turns out to be a fairly close facsimile of how I imagined Ron's dress robes to be in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, all dark and heavy with "moldy lace" on the collar and cuffs. Allow me to illustrate:

I rest my case.

Vincent's dress is 80's to the max, and some poor granny-style thrift store sofa died so that his skirt could live. The final touch? What I'd like to think of as a tribute to Angela ('s bad taste): a sort of pre-made fleurchon on the lower back area. Beware, Vincent, bewaaaare! When asked what inspired him to make an evening dress in shoulder pads, he amazingly manages to avoid the obvious "I haven't worked in fashion since the 80's" answer.

Michael's doesn't really float my boat, surprisingly. The top looks a bit sloppily made (he had trouble with the hand-sewing), and has these sort of boob scallop things that just...yech. But he gets my sympathy, "Shouldn't be out this week despite a weak dress," vote thanks to two things: his dress got egged, and he used the expression "Sweatin' like a whore in church" to describe his nervousness.

Uli finally kicks her bold prints habit, with predictably lovely results (because Uli is awesome, duh). Her sophisticated floor-length lavender/grey gown has lots of gorgeous hand-detailing and is still pure Uli, despite the lack of prints. I don't necessarily agree with everyone else who thought she should win, though, simply because my totally uninformed preconceived notion of a couture gown is something a bit more edgy or crazy than Uli's totally tasteful, wearable, somewhat safe creation. But then, what do I know?

Jeffrey's dress, the winner, conforms far more closely to my idea of couture, with a punk-rock flavor that is very Jeffrey. His model is draped in yellow plaids in a sort of deconstructed, randomly-hanging fabric sort of way. But it totally works. Don't ask me to explain how.

And now for the shockingest moment ever: Tim Gunn, the sagest sage that ever did sage, suggests that Kayne's dress was a hot mess, citing the very factor that makes me love it so: its fabulous asymmetry. Come on, Tim! It fit like a dream, was completely gorgeous, was still totally Kayne, and threw me delightfully off-balance with its asymmetrical top and laces. And yet, Nina and the rest of the panel agree with Tim, giving Kayne the "taste level" kiss of death.

Thankfully, the Curse of the Fleurchon overcomes the "taste level" red herring, and Vincent is finally the one to go - long overdue - although unfortunately not without leaving us his very last "it got me off." Well, Vincent, your auf'ing "got me off," so there! (Eww...I feel dirty just saying that.) This auf'ing's for you, Allison! This auf'ing's for you.

As a quick post-script, in other Project Runway news, Blogging Project Runway (the enabler of my PR addiction) has pointed me towards Malan's new blog. He accomplishes the incredible feat of seeming fake-British in print, repeating the word "darling" ad nauseum. But, I still somehow find him appealing. Like when he told the totally made-up-sounding story about his mother throwing his "drawrings" on the floor and telling him they'd never amount to anything, and I just liked that he felt the need to tell a story like that. Adorably self-conscious in shaping how he comes across, I guess.

Ok, that's it for now. Come back next week for another exhaustive analysis of the only reality TV show that's actually good enough to be in the running for my favorite show, period.