First of all:
Seriously? Not only does Heidi appear with a whackadoo flower atop her mop coiffure, her entrance is accompanied by Kiss from a Rose. I was legitimately confused. I thought there was something wrong with my TV. Somehow Lifetime video had been crossed with an old Vh1 Pop Up Video rerun audio. Did that really just happen? Oh, I nearly threw up.
So the challenge this week is something new (and thank goodness because if the designers had to do one more project inspired by pictures from the streets of New York taken with their Kodak Easy Share cameras, my head was going to explode with boredom.), and design dresses around the hats of Phillip Treacy. And I don’t care what you say. Those aren’t effing hats. A “hat” is defined as covering for the head, usually having a shaped crown and brim. Just because I tie a loofa to my forehead using dental floss doesn’t make it a hat. It makes it garbage. And I’d be deemed certifiable-Cuckoo’s-Nest-loco if I wore it into work. Oh Phil, what you’ve got, sir, is headwear.
So let’s get started with this clusterfuck of a runway, shall we?
Peaches…I really wanted to like you. Really. I did. Then you made this dress out of a curtain and I can’t like you anymore. Plus, you had a chance to ditch your sourpuss-craptastic model and get a good one, but you kept the ugly-Iman because you wanted the hat. Then you make a dress that could give a shit about the hat. If “incongruous” was a keyword for giving somebody the boot with this challenge, Peachy-Keen would be headed back home designing for Talbots, tout de suite.
Oh, dear little monkey-boy, Mondo. Fabric talks to him. And apparently it tells him to make clown pants and paint mustaches on his model. This outfit begs for judge-talk. Like a kid acting out for attention. Dear Lord, Michael Kors, just say something, give him the slightest bit of attention so Mondo will start making normal, pretty things.
Literally inspired by hospital curtains. Not even kidding. Wish I were. Again, she made something so bland and boring, that the judges won’t even deem with a comment. Maybe you should expand your color palate past “butter.” Why don’t you just go pass out again due to two pack-a-day, case of Diet Coke diet and cause some more fake drama for reality TV? Thanks.
Screw you, snotty pants. You made an outfit a transvestite Robin Hood would love. You don’t deserve the Keira Knightly look-a-like model. Your leg warmers are where pleather meets baroque and comes to die. I just don’t like you. Why couldn’t you have just stayed crunchy, granola girl? You were so much more likeable then…
Pobrecito…My little Cassie dressed Elphaba for the Wicked Witches of the West Convention. And made her look like an expectant mother. Muy bien, dear heart.
Holy Barbie, Batman. That is really so horrid. Not only do I see puckering, the matchy-matchy shoes make me cringe. I really question the validity of the Piperlime.com Accessory Wall. Styling’s been a big problem this season and I have a feeling it’s because they’re having to pick out of a basket of crap.
Kind of adorable. I’d prefer my “hats” without the protective gear chin strap, but whatevs. Good middle of the road outfit. Way too much tulle to make it to the top. Enjoy the mediocrity. It’s a safe, safe place. (Sidenote to AJ: Tone down the manscara. It’s way too Good Charlotte. And they’re so not relevant anymore. Plus, I don’t like you. Try to fix that, k thanks.)
The Bottom of the Barrel:
Ya know…You almost did OK. But where the hell did those grey Lycra leggings and mini come from? Those weren’t in the work room. That’s some trickeration right there. I mean, the dress is a little Mommie Dearest daywear, but it could have been safe. Way to eff it up, puffin.
Take one look at that hat and tell me it’s not “Oh, the Places You’ll Go.” And take one look at those “shorts” and tell me they’re not Huggies, quilted for extra absorption power. Gag. And a zipper? On a diaper? Seriously? Ew.
I see where you get your "inspiration," Treacy. Yah. Visionary, my ass.
The Cock of the Walk:
The self-proclaimed Susan Lucci of Project Runway. (It’s only the fourth episode, hunny. At least wait until the weeding out period is complete before owning that title.) But first off—That’s not a hat. In any loosely translated sense of the word. What we have here is a mask, people. A mask. Way to go, Val for competing in your own separate challenge. (Come on now, Phillie—Couldn’t have found one more real hat for the competition? Bet Gaga could have loaned you one of your originals back.) Anyway, Valerie made a cute dress with non-functioning zippers and an Edwardian-smoosh-the-boob neckline. Whatevs.
Everyone give a hand for Sun God Ra meets milk maid. I mean, I get it. The shapes work. But how can the judges not take into consideration that her torso looks like it’s set for overnight shipping? Whatevs. Congrats for being better than mediocre.
I like to call it "Up on da shore dey work all day couture." Yeah, it shimmers like the “hat,” and is ok looking, but holy boob dysfunction. That mammary strangulation just looks painful. It’s so not a top dress. I mean, he’s an adorable winner. Precious, even. But still…it’s just not a winning dress. (But seriously...Is there really one?) Ugh. Blaarrggh!
Ah, an auf weidersehen well deserved. There’s no way she was hindered by her hat. Make something light, pretty and flowy. There ya go. Nope, couldn’t be that easy, could it? Must make a dress suitable for a jester’s mistress. Poorly executed and just butt ugly. I was a little sad to see her go because it’s because of her that I got to hear Tim Gunn say “wooly balls,” but then I remember that the week before she dressed her girl as a “Dean or Vice-Provost,” and I wanna kick her in the orchid again.
Woo, I feel better. I think that’s enough judgment to at least get me through the weekend. Until next time, make it work!