Welcome back to the puckery jungle! Sixteen designers, three judges, one last bolt of our patience, and even a few Tim Gunn catchphrases to write with glitter pen on our hope chest. It's Project Runway, townspeople! Clamor! The seventh season kicked off last night, exhibited a range of new talents, and did the hard work of telling the prettiest cast member to go home. Right now Irina is giggling somewhere and telling a room full of people who are just trying to finish their grocery shopping, "That was so the opposite of my season!" Anyway: I'm Louis Virtel, your Project Runway curator, and we have a lot of work/non-work to do. Bring your questionable taste level, and let's go.
Our adventures begin with trotted-out confessionals from our 16 new contestants, some of whom even dress their age. Case-in-not-point: Look, there's Seth Aaron, who looks like Keith Richards in the face, Lou Reed in the eyes, and someone they'd both make fun of in the clothes. Nice teensy denim jacket, Dad! Next, there's Janeane. She's "dorking out a little bit" about being in New York for the first time. She's also crying the minute we see her, for the first of a few occasions this episode, because something is up with this girl and it's not that cute. She's followed by Ping, an Italian-trained designer originally from China whose zeal matches her table-tennis namesake. Ping! Her asymmetrical, offbeat designs also seem best defined by onomatopoeia. I choose BOOSH!
Anthony is a "black, gay, ghetto" designer from Georgia who is obsessed with pageants but doesn't "care for Miss America." Because Miss Teen Fancy-Free Savannah is where the real couturiers flock, see, or something. Let's schedule a time to slap him. Jonathan, another designer, hand-paints many of his designs, and Tim Gunn should get around to calling them "Holly Hobby" in the next half hour. Emilio is a costumer. Cutie Jesus is the group's resident saucy Latin waif. And new fave contestant Pamela's crazy eyes can range anywhere from "glassy" to "pinball" to "I'm THINKING." You'll remember that her favorite designer is God, which is a shame, because Michael Kors banned Him from ever guest-judging in his original contract.
Christiane is a pleasant L.A. designer originally from the Ivory Coast. Jesse is a straight dude who sincerely plays Captain Jack Sparrow at Disneyworld, and since leaving that position he's been working on his disinterested Logan Neitzel face. Update: He is already a black belt in Logan Neitzel face. Ben, Jay, Anna, Maya, Amy, and Mila are six other contestants. That I know. But based on their bland-ass opening remarks and average faces, I am not sure they should qualify as proper nouns. They could become real children as the episodes progress, but don't hold your Carol-Hannah-tolerating breath.
Now that their dubious introductions are complete, Heidi sends the designers a note to meet her on the roof of the Atlas apartment complex. She's going to kill them. Luckily, Tim Gunn is also present to restrain the pregnant frau, and Project Runway's annual champagne mixer begins. This part of the show isn't fun anymore. Heidi makes the same joke about drinking grape juice because she's pregnant with another eight kids, and several designers strain terribly to describe their design aesthetic. Their thesaurus may have been written by not-so-noted lexicographer Victoria Beckham.
Tim then folds all of us into his embroidered handkerchief and carries us to Central Park, where Mood has generously decked a bunch of benches with fabric. Pamela's eyes bounce from bolt to bolt, fabric to fabric, and then to a few buildings with open windows, and then to a safe in a nearby bank, because this woman has thief eyes. Tim instructs the group to gather as many of these fabrics as possible, because their challenge is to construct a garment that best exemplifies their design aesthetic. It's a standard first challenge. Janeane -- talented as she is -- will find a reason to cry over this.
After that runaround, Tim says they can only keep five of their selected fabrics. Ping starts making video game noises and stammers that she's having trouble unwrapping her orangish material from the bolt. A real drama occurs when she unfolds it for two straight minutes. Not kidding. Pamela could've dug a hole in the sidewalk and made a break for the river in that time.
The workroom looks the same as it always did (with some Lifetime-grade pink on the walls, for added insanity). In a fun new twist, the designers now have electronic sketchpads at their disposal instead of the usual notebooks. This way, if you want to build a Powerpoint presentation of your designs and cue it up with sound effects for a speech you're making to a third-grade computer class, that is possible. Seth Aaron tries calling his great-grandkids to help him set up the "drawin' machine," but his teensy jacket paralyzes his arms for good. The designers take advantage of the new toy and hack together shreds until Tim Gunn comes in with some bad news: 1) Jesus's croc-print leather dress has a weird seam running across the lap, and Tim calls it "disturbing." 2) Janeane is forced to reconsider her whole design after Tim stutters "Clean it up!" in her face. At this point in the show she is crying to keep from crying. 3) Ping is trying on her giant "innovative pants" and strappy cape top, and Tim wonders if she forfeits objectivity by wearing the clothes herself. Ping responds with her standard sequence of onomatopoeic squeaks.
Instead of saying, "Make it work," Tim unleashes this cryptogram: "Recalibrate your ambitions according to the timeframe!" Special! The part of Tim Gunn will now be played by Dr. Edward Nigma. Onto the runway!
Out from behind the scrim comes an all-knowing giraffe deity named Heidi. She welcomes our pals Michael Kors and Nina Garcia, who greet us with thug nods. And then she introduces guest-judge Nicole Richie, who is... fine. And arguably a person. And we'll leave it at that.
Here are the big show's high- and low-lights!
Anthony picked a dark print with a berainbowed motif that screams "nursery." There's also a giant hip embellishment where you can store your Kindle and medium-sized dog, or something. Nina wants to hide.
Jesus and his super-slim, super-dated leather column look like, as Garcia pointed out, "a candy bar." Michael Kors takes the lead with the best comment of the night, noting, "It has all the cliches of 'glamorous'!" and saying it belongs in the early '70s. Jesus has only recently heard of the '70s, because Seth Aaron's favorite great-nephew was born around that time.
Seth Aaron crafts a precious patterned skirt that looks like an upscale Charlotte Russe number. The zipper in back is red, which is a concept. The judges coo, and it fits like a dream.
Emilio had almost nothing done when we last checked on him in the workroom, but his final garment is a stunning, airy skirt with a haphazardly thatched and striped purple top. My immediate thought is, "This is the clear winner," and I'm writing it here to seem like I'm always right.
Ping is in the running to become president, because look at this shit. It's insane. And awesome. The judges dance like pupils in the eyes of a quivering Pamela.
Christiane paired a shiny, mushy blue fabric with this yellow-gray-ruffly second material, and the result is disjointed and reminds everyone of hotel housekeeping. In fact, the clash between the two fabrics alone is enough to warrant an elimination and a Pikachu-ordained seizure.
And that's just what happened -- the elimination, I mean. Christiane is sent home, and our winner is the as-yet-not-identifiable Emilio. But that's not all of our Runway coverage for today: Coming up, we have an interview with eliminated designer Christiane King, wherein we will discuss what went wrong, how she feels, and how freakish the whole show really was. For now, we can look forward to an effervescent new season of Runway, I believe. As long as Runway's technical equipment is not pilfered by a certain God-loving seamstress and traded for bail bonds, we could have entertainment on our hands.