Project Runway Recap: Tim Artfully Announces That Everyone Sucks

Part one of Project Runway's eighth season finale was kind of a stunner: Andy proved he can beat up coconuts, Mondo likes vintage circuses, Gretchen revealed that she can't even afford to leave this room, and Michael C. admitted that his family situation is the stuff of more formally depressing Lifetime fare. So much to rehash. Let's throw darts at all of it.

Heidi is tired of this stupid game, but she saunters down the runway anyway to tell Mondo, Andy, Michael C., and Gretchen to sew 100 dresses in two weeks time, or whatever. Actually she says, "You have $9,000 to make a collection in six weeks." In season's past, designers have been given up to half a year to complete their Fashion Week collections, so this is staggering. You know Gretchen needs at least eight weeks to sew a tolerable beige romper. Michael C. needs three months to decide on a fabric he doesn't know the name of. The remaining four designers should protest, but Project Runway has Patti Hearsted them into a kind of delirious compliance.

Several weeks pass, and Tim Gunn makes his annual visit to the designers' homes. He gets there on a plane powered by furrowed brows. He first treks to meet Andy, who lives on a magnificent farm in Hawaii. Look at all this crazy crap Andy's up to: Breaking coconuts! Tending the land! Crying because his mother made sacrifices! Pretending America knows where Laos is! Unreal. He shows Tim a slimy fish that "looks like a Chinese man," and after Tim caterwauls like a tickled schoolgirl, he stammers, "I've never seen a Chinese man look that unattractive!" You heard it here first: Tim Gunn believes every Chinese man is a 6 or higher. After dinner he observes Andy's collection, which doesn't exist yet. There are sketches, but BREAKING: Tim Gunn don't care 'bout no sketches. He leaves in a stately huff.

Next Tim visits Michael Costello, who's working on his collection in the citywide sprinkler system of Palm Springs, CA. "Michael!" Tim coos. "Let's cut the crap and discuss my inevitable disappointment." Michael leads him to the drawing room where he's arranged at least 12 completed looks, even if he only needs 10. "You have design diarrhea!" Tim yells. This is upsetting, because God was supposed to protect Tim Gunn from knowing what diarrhea is. He has no other real critique for Michael, so they kill time by discussing how Michael's boyfriend outed him to his parents and how his parents hate his ambitions. "Whoops," Tim stammers. "That's depressing. I have to take the ferry to Denver!" And he disappears through the chimney.

Mondo's up now in stunning Denver, Colorado. Tim knows Mondo's supposed to win the season, so he's particularly chipper and jocular about everything, even when Mondo explains that his inspiration is a hybrid of horrifying vintage circuses and Day of the Dead celebrations. Come on, Mondo. AJ Thouvenot says things like that. He makes cupcake bras and paper plate panties. Enough. Tim gets a Tim-ism in there and calls one of the ensembles "jejune" to everyone's confusion, but we end on a predictably pat note: Mondo grew up in a Mexican-American family and they have tough expectations sometimes. OK, great. The judges will love hearing that right before your coronation. We have to go. Time to put up with Gretchen now in beautiful... somewhere southwestern? I didn't catch it.

Whoops, Gretchen's life fell apart after the show. She lost her relationship, she has to move out of her house, and her bank account is empty. "I'm broke and busted and have put everything into my dreams," she claims, reading some Lucinda Williams liner notes just out of frame. "I'm in a raw state now." And she really is in a raw state -- Arizona or something! Tim arrives, quickly figures out what she tried to do with a giraffe print, and hates it. "It's looking costumey in a Southwestern way. She just needs some turquoise jewelry and a headband. Georgia O'Cheap. You may as well be a petrified skull, Gretchen. I've always said that though. It has nothing to do with your collection." Some of that he didn't say.

Eventually the four designers reconvene in New York just a couple days ahead of Lincoln Center Fashion Week. They like each other and we're supposed to be fine with that. Ugh. Can't Irina Shabayeva return and compete for the win, just because? I'd like that. She'd hate all these people. "They can't make an Aspen skiing gown!" she'd chortle. "Even Carol Hannah can see that Michael C. is an illiterate seamstress who needs a glue gun to keep his dresses together and his dreams alive. He totally can't sit at my lunch table." There's always next week.

Oh, by the way, twist: The designers have to present three of their looks for the judges' consideration, and one of those looks has to be created that day. Right, you're over it.

To the final runway! Heidi, Michael Kors, and Nina Garcia are the only attending assholes in sight today, and they'll be dispensing judgment like satanic Pez contraptions. Andy sends down three ruffled, short looks -- the new one rendered in olive green and featuring a stunning obstacle course of hand-folded ripples and pleats. For those of us reared in the '90s, it looks like a green chiffon version of Domino Rally. Michael C. gives us three looks in the exact same hue -- that bronzey maroon that I associate with '90s bathroom rugs and Ivana Trump "glamor." Seriously, his models belong on that game show Trump Card, to complete this early '90s thread I started. Mondo throws up some mixed houndsteeth with tiny pink and yellow belts. Gretchen is BFF with Georgia O'Cheap and throttles us with a giraffe-and-leopard print suit, a basic gray "active wear" dress (Heidi's favorite!), and a shiny black blazer with nudity underneath. Mmkay.

Like clockwork, the judges love Mondo's "boldness," even though he produces the most expected work out of any remaining designer. That doesn't mean he's unqualified, but it does mean his aesthetic is more limited than anyone has cared to discuss. Nina hates on his polka dot dress for a quick second to throw us off the scent of his eventual victory. You are a mediocre conwoman, Garcia. Andy is also well-received, but Heidi isn't sure his accessories rule. That's because they're martian antennae. Michael C's next up, and Nina becomes a giant jackass for the rest of the episode. "I'm amazed by the same color," she crows. "You don't need all this fringe to be fabulous." She continues her streak with Gretchen, saying, "It's too crunchy granola. This is just wearable. I hate wearable, of course. I could wear you, Gretchen, like an albatross, and I don't." Some of that she didn't say.

After a long deliberation that prompts Heidi to say, "I feel kind of bad!" (cue my unending applause), Michael C. is eliminated. I'm surprised. Could've sworn Bunim-Murray was giving him the Wendy Pepper treatment, keeping him around for Pulitzer-winning drama and preparing him for a third-place finish. Instead, Michael C. is out, and he almost dies on the runway, shaking, sobbing, and heaving like Michael Kors just admitted that his blazer is made out of Costello family hides. I sympathize with Michael (Costello, heh), but he can't even look the judges in the face after he's eliminated. That is poor sportsmanship, and I learned that from my years as a Scholastic Bowl captain. Once he's backstage, Michael punches a wall and starts yelping, "What am I going to tell my family?!" To be fair, his family situation blows, but also -- uh? -- you were never entitled to a place in the final three. No one is. Still, God love the guy for emerging with some class and resilience. And maybe a lock of Gretchen's hair, because he sort of reminds me of that creepy kid from Mad Men who wants Sally Draper's saucy bod.

So, is Mondo's victory eminent? See you next week for the last recap of the season, when I have the feeling we'll be watching our favorite toddler-shaped designer click his heels, wear Cabaret suspenders, and cry with Heidi behind the big white scrim. Heidi won't cry, of course, but she'll jiggle and gape in a crying way. Very clever.