There was a moment in last night's episode of Project Runway in which the contestants were in legendary fashion designer Diane von Furstenberg's personal fabric room, tossing very expensive fabric around, moaning and complaining and crying. And it was just so indicative of this limp season, a moany group of people rattling around more talented folks' territory. Though last night wasn't all bad! There were some lovely designs. I have nice things to say, I promise. This week's challenge began with the gang trudging into the deepest bowels of the Meatpacking District, sent off by Tim Gunn to meet a "fashion legend." Little gay rutabaga Blayne hoped it was Mary-Kate Olsen. Doesn't everyone want to marry her ("other than Tim Gunn") he wondered. No Blayne! Only you. The legend turned out to be the decidedly more legendary than MKO Diane von Furstenberg who—though looking increasingly like the head witch from The Witches (it's the hair! a "CVS Halloween aisle fright wig," my costume designer friend calls it)—was a welcome dash of poise and class. Her challenge to our bumbling boobs was to design an outfit within the theme of A Foreign Affair, an old-timey talkie about Marlene Dietrich being a singer and sort of a spy. So that was fun. 1940's intrigue! (Though the movie is actually a Billy Wilder comedy, not some smoky suspense film.) Mousy little Leanne took this as a cue to skulk around the design room, pretending to be a spy. Like a crazy person. I think she said "Leannimal" at one point and then I fell off the couch and did a sad, slow Three Stooges walk around the floor. She's so weird and kind of annoying! When I righted myself and brushed the dust and bottle caps off my shirt, I saw that Joe had apparently tripped balls back to the drag queen challenge, making the same damn pink thing. Korto made a nice bright frock with a strangely fitting jacket, Jerrell once again tailored well and designed awfully, Terri did her old pants and jacket soft shoe, our live blogger's predictions were correct and Kenley wept and wept and wept and wore feather epaulets (and made a nice little Chinese kaleidoscope dress), Suede's gonna do what Suede's gonna do, and then there were other people, probably. Leanne won for a very pretty dress and coat ensemble that was, gasping for air!, almost like something from one of the earlier, better seasons. (That's my nice thing.) The really important people to talk about, however, are grizzled old Rizzo the Rat(bones) Stella and the microwave-reheated pile of French fries Blayne. Stella had good intentions with her pantsuit, but then she took some Austro-Hungarian leap into the shadowy Danube with that stern-looking trapeze cape. And, you know, the pantsuit was poorly made. Plus Stella is just kind of a crazy and urban-zombie-esque. Blayne. What to say of Blayne's Gummi Bears-inspired, jodhpurs-meet-culottes blunderbuss of a "garment." One of two things is going to happen. Either Blayne will meth-scratch his Circus Peanut face off, or he'll design something so spectacularly awful and crazy and inexcusably approved-of by the judges that the universe will fold in on itself and we'll all wink out of existence. I, for one, am hoping it's the former. Anyway it doesn't matter because ol' rickety Madame Bones Stella was sent to that giant roadhouse in the sky, where she'll dance drunken rockabilly tarantellas with Ratbones, swigging ice cold homemade beer from the bottle, happy to be back where the boots scuff the floor and the toilets don't have doors. Meanwhile Blayne will hum and glow for at least another week, his strange emanations hurtled into space, warning away any would-be alien invaders. And for that, I guess, we should be thankful.
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