Anyway, before we get to hear about the actual challenge we have to grit our teeth and turn our heads as the Garnier man painfully reads off cue cards. The designers nod and pretend that hair will be an important part of this challenge, but they really know it’s just that time of the season for PR to earn those Garnier promo dollars by highlighting their new flex hold hairspray and molding putty. On with the real show!
The teams broke out as such:
Team “We’re So Awesome, Let’s All Just Go Blow Each Other”: Gretchen, Ivy, AJ, Andy, Christopher and Michael C.
Team (Time out: You know when you had to do group assignments in school and there was always one loser cluster that just stared awkwardly and mumbled at each other? That’s them. Time in.) “Blah, Blah Mumble Pants”: Valerie, April, Peach, Mondo, Casanova and Michael D.
So here’s the deal: Each team has to pick a trending style and textile from the Fall 2010 lines and make a mini collection. Each team gets $1000 to spend at Mood and subsequently all the designers wet themselves. Apparently they don’t know how to divide because that’s about $160 bucks each. Um, enjoy your polyblends? Team Blow Me chooses menswear as womenswear and camel (because nothing says new and hip like head to toe camel and pleated pants), and Team Blumble Pants chooses military and lace (things seem to be looking up for this rag tag group of misfits). I don’t know if it was Mondo’s lens-less glasses, April’s deafening monotone, Valerie’s inner Gidget or Casanova’s perky man nipples and Arabian Night slippers, but they started to do something right. Granted, their looks weren’t mind blowing, but they were visually interesting, individualistic, but still cohesive. That’s what we call success in reality design competitions.
The all-knowing, Sir Timothy Gunn, Knight and Protector of Useless Flotsam and Jetsam did have one critique for our loveably confused Puerto Rican: blouse is reading matronly. What followed can only be described as a delightfully entertaining train wreck of Latin emotion. In las palabras de Casanova mid breakdown, “I’m making clothes for old ladies, sluts and flamenco dancers. I’m effing tired. I’m even getting fat!” Te amo, Casanova. Te amo your grandma garments and your weak grasp on the English language. After a pep talk from his loquacious model, “I mean, like, your stuff is so pretty. And if you, like, like it. That’s what’s important. Yeah.”, our boy manned up, grew some huevos and pulled it out.
On the other hand…Team Gretchen’s a Wench is too busy high fiving each other to actually design anything that’s not total and utter crap. Nothing but a sea of beige and future broken dreams to be seen. Gretchen continues to stick her nose in to everything. “Even if I’m not sewing a garment, I feel like it’s still partly mine” (because you’re a giant, giant douche nozzle), and everyone continues to degrade poor immunity-clad Michael C. for his not-cut-on-the-bias-cowl neck. Anyway, people keep shouting out things like camel lined leggings, grandpa sweaters and palazzo pants, and I know things are not going well. Tim, the Grand Master of Liz Claiborne, calls your “collection” ho hum. Of course it’s ho hum; everything looks like Tatooine Sand People casual wear.
But enough chit-chat. Let's get to the runway.
Eventually the one-day-challenge (seriously getting tired of those) comes to a close, and runway day is quickly approaching. Gretchen makes a to-do list with lipstick and the designers are off, leaving only a dust trail behind them.