Project Runway Recap: Tired of Their Bolshevik

After the designers select pictures of exotic locales (ranging from Greece and Saint-Tropez to... Palm Beach and Santa Fe. Jesus Christ, Lifetime), they get right to work making catalog clothes for a resort-savvy American Girl doll set. Imperial Russian monarch Irina finds a quick minute to leave the workroom and form some opinions.

Irina: "My newest tirade is broken down into volumes and chapters for easier rewind value. Let's start with the bug-eyed Chicken McNugget named Carol Hannah. She's supposed to be designing for Palm Beach? Let's see her find that on a map. It can be a map of Florida, honestly. Christopher's designing for Santa Fe, and you know how excited he gets about "Santa." Unfortunately, Reuters just released a new study that claims Santa Fe is not a city-wide Amish version of Charlotte Russe. Someone get this memo to Chrissy! Gordana chose New York and... it's not that bad a dress, but... her face! It's contorted by years of gas-masks! And for that she will always lose. Hehe. Pretty, pretty Irina. Nicolas chose Greece, and Greece is not where they buy utilitarian gray pants for George Orwell's version of Oceania, so nice try. And I guess Logan's really enjoying meeting all of us nice people. As usual, I am inspired by my two role models, Madame Ranevskaya and me, Irina."

The workroom remains relatively quiet, which isn't worth complaining about since this always happens at this point of the season. Better yet, Tim Gunn realizes it's time to compensate for the lack of drama with scathing critiques towards everyone in sight. He even yells at a key grip for being too "cliched."

Gordana: [Bedraggled, with not enough strength to speak in full CAPS LOCK glory] Hello, Tim.

Tim Gunn: Gordana. What's going on with this neck piece? Is it supposed to be a flirty silver albatross? It's saying death and destruction to me. Do four horsemen fly out of this jazz and into Nina Garcia's face?

Gordana: In fact, yes. I tell you time and again about how cool 'tis to be in the competition still. Well, I decided to forecast my inevitable demise with a swinging bird of death rendered in assembly belt gray. The tribute to my childhood, national strife, mother's cooking, is implied. I will now fashion inanimate limbs and affix them to the neck.

Tim Gunn: Uh huh. Grim. I relate. I mean... DON'T BE A CLICHE.

Gordana: AH! YOU SCARED ME. AND YET, YOU'VE AWOKEN MY SPIRIT. CAPS-LOCK GREAT-AUNT GORDANA BACK TO QUASI-LIFE. THANK YOU, GAY MAN OF KNOWINGS. I TAKE THIS INSPIRATION AND USE IT FOR FOOD, LIKELY FOR SEVERAL DAYS.

Tim Gunn: Christ.

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