Project Runway Recap: Kindergarten Fop

Do you ever walk into a Kids 'R Us -- pie-eyed and a little light-headed -- and say, "I wish I had created everything here"? And in your mind you're talking to someone, like Hobbes the tiger or Eleanor Roosevelt? Because you're 90, maybe? Project Runway was for you last night, I think. It wasn't for me. There was too little of Anthony hollering Sugarbaker catchphrases, too many of Janeane's Three Faces of Eve schisms between confidence and neurosis, and a total dearth of Michael Kors's rap-battle put-downs. But there were kiddies who wore frilly dresses, and sometimes (like in real life) that produced bitchy results.

On the runway, Heidi introduces today's challenge with some vindication -- as if, say, she has 40 kids and the designers don't know how good they have it. "Here come your models!" she squeaks. Out trot the 10 little ones, who each receive "oohs," "aahs," and a few muttered tips about being too fat for this business.

One by one, the little girls introduce themselves and announce who they've been drafted into working with. Sho cute! And frightening. Jonathan remarks about how they're "so little," and he stops short of divulging an elaborate dropkick fantasy on a cloud of taffeta. For the rest of the designers, the cuteness sends them into hare-brained versions of creative breakthroughs.

Jesse: "Mine will be inspired by Madeline. As a child, I knew I had the potential to one day to craft legitimate European cliches. I hitch that wagon to a star today."

Emilio: "Children don't want stupid dresses! They want hoodies and knits! They want to be cool! That's why, at the end of this episode, I will produce a frilly pink dress. Right. I don't know either."

Janeane: "This is only my 14th confessional this episode, if you can believe it. I'll talk at length about a childhood memory, thank you. A friend of mine had an orange romper that I was so jealous of! I need to make that romper now. (Teeth chattering.) I'm feeling confident! (Crying.) Yes! (Hyperventilating.) Nheh-heh! (Red-faced, convulsive.) Oh, God. Why did I give up cake school?"

Tim Gunn appears in the workroom and starts to look over his glasses, which means either a twist is coming, or it's a day ending in "y."

"Designers!" he declares. "This kiddie shit is all fine. But when you have a chance, make a corresponding look for your actual models. It's going to walk the runway tomorrow! Come on. Did you think this was the whole challenge? Noah Cyrus isn't your guest-judge, sweethearts, and that's not just because we couldn't book her. Carry on."

As the contestants scramble, sew, and use "children's dress forms" that look exactly like their normal ones, Anthony starts cawing and sassing loudly. Seizing an opportunity to make something happen the designers tape over his mouth and challenge him to stop talking as long as he can. He makes it 14 minutes and 56 seconds, which reminds me of that Sugar Ray album 14:59, which I see as a violent omen.

Onto the runway, where we watch the little mouseketeers prance and pose like the world demands.

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