Previously on Project Runway, the popular kids were mean to Michael C aka Bluto*, and Gretchen revealed her true nature. Or natures, as there were many faces of Gretchen revealed.  In a team challenge which was supposed to have no leaders, Gretchen ran Team Luxe to a well-deserved loss, then AJ had to take the bullet, and was sent home. Team Even the Losers Get Lucky Sometimes won the challenge and El Nino del Infierno won immunity.

The Statue of Liberty holds her lamp high over the orange skyline of Manhattan. In the Atlas, the cool kids are still bitching that the losers won. Even April is trashing Wimpy and saying that he can’t tailor, drape, cut a pattern or sew. Ivy and Valerie want him to get sent home. Gretchen cries crocodile tears over Tim Gunn’s smack down and says he hurt her feelings. Ivy and Valerie are happy that Tim did it. They think it will give Gretchen a little reality check. Maybe, if they don’t go back to being her adoring sycophants, annnd we’re already too late for that.

Runway: Casanova has immunity. New models and quite a task. Oh, lord. It’s the reconfigure some of the world’s ugliest bridesmaids’ dresses challenge. Make something they would like to wear out of this crap fabric and these ugly colors. There is a blue vertical bow, a dress that looks like a Twizzler, another that looks like the inside of a Pepto-Bismal bottle. Every one is made of horrible polyester satin.

As the winner, Casanova picks first and goes for the tallest and thinnest girl. Everyone gets someone and something. Micheal Knitwear is appalled to be last and left with the big girl. Ivy picks the ivory dress, of course. Mondo goes for a rose-colored dress which is later revealed to be sporting a giant white stripe down the back.  The designers are told to create something that looks like a runway, nothing like a bridesmaid’s dress. $50 and up to two yards of additional fabric. Use most of the bridemaid’s dress. Christopher’s model bails and he gets a new girl with a sort of metallic net and embroidery.

April’s model is a pain. She wants the pleats ironed out of a Fortuny-pleated grey dress and does not get April’s aesthetic. Miz Shoes considers taking a shot every time one of the designers says “aesthetic”. Knitwear Michael calls his model “vo-LUMP-tuous. Tailoring and smart decisions will be key to his success, he says. And off they go to Mood. Michael Knitwear is so undone by the size of his model that he buys upholstery fabric instead of dress-making fabric, because he can only buy two yards, and upholstery fabric is about three times the width of dress fabric. It’s also coarse and cheap. And insulting to his model, although as far as he’s concerned, he’s being “mindful” of her special needs, saying to Gretchen that he doesn’t want his model’s size to even be a conversation topic. He’s really sort of a douche, isn’t he?

In the sewing room, Valerie and Andy trash Wimpy and his sewing skills, while Valerie sneers that the judges will tell them that they are crazy to think he can’t sew and love his work. They agree that the judges are the crazy idiots. Gretchen calls her mommy and blah blah blah time of reflection. Blah blah blah. Her mother is like a character from “Northern Exposure” but she is Gretchen’s mother, and Miz Shoes is not a person to talk trash about someone’s mother. Christopher is crushed inside for Gretchen. Gretchen and Tim are especially polite to each other as he comes in for his walkabout and Gretchen says blah blah blah. Tim tells Wimpy to edit and Michael Douche says something about size and trying to be kind. Valerie is making clothes, not fashion.

Tim’s Surprise is that they’ll have an extra day, one in which they will have a Project Runway Open House and hundreds of random people will come through and have a chance to meet them and vote on their favorite, which will influence the judges decision, but how much so is to be determined at a later date, depending, you know, on if the judges like who these people like. Some of the designers do not look happy about this.

Michael Douche is dressing the big girl in a fucking baby doll dress. Miz Shoes wants to slap him. Wimpy’s model is insisting on the black lace that Tim told him to ditch. He thinks he can make it work. The bust is lined with the ivory that was part of her ebony and ivory and rhinestone dress. Michael Douche is being a douche. April and her model are not happy together. Peach is in a panic, having cut her skirt wrong.

Life in the popular girls’ room is on display. Miz Shoes fast forwards. Peach is fatalistic and cute as a button, bless her heart. April continues to fantasize what she really wanted to say to her client. Wimpy and his model love the dress with the lace capelet bodice. Tim tells the designers to interact and wow the masses, earn their buttons in your fishbowl. The people love Wimpy, and Ivy spreads rumors that Wimpy is telling the strangers that she’s the season bitch. Michael Douche only gets one button…from the model’s sister, it would seem. Peach is adorable. Mondo’s getting buttons. Ivy continues to spread poison.

Christopher is shaving the sides of Andy’s head to give him a Mohawk, and then Andy confronts Wimpy about Ivy’s accusations. Wimpy steadfastly denies it (and there is no footage of him doing it, at least none that aired). Andy notes that that a lot of the designers are tweaking their work based on the audience response their own editing eyes. Peach is in the weeds. Wimpy confronts Ivy and straight up tells her he never said a word about her and his model will swear to that. Ivy is a stone bitch and says she doesn’t believe him for a second.

Time for the runway. Michael Douche is wearing a do rag. Mondo says that Michael Douche has handled his “special challenge” with grace, by which he means that MD didn’t throw a tarp over the fat girl. April is wearing her hair down.  Mondo got the most votes from the commoners at the previous night’s event. Our special guest judge is Cynthia Rowley (coolness).

Mondo’s model is from Jersey and working the Jersey/Snookie strut. Ivy’s made ivory pants and a blouson top in yellowish chiffon. Valerie’s dress looks like bad junior wear and the fit of the top is one of the worst Ever Seen on Project Runway.™  Gretchen’s Post-Apocalyptic cocktail dress with Mad Max™ boots prompts one of her minions to coo sweet nothings. Peach’s disaster of a dress is not helped by the fact that her model has apparently never seen a single episode of America’s Next Top Model and has never learned to stomp it out on the runway with wind in her hair and smize. Andy’s overdyed shorts and vest are short, but not as short as Wimpy’s very Little Black Dress. Christopher is confident. Michael Douche has made an adult woman look like a chubby, awkward girl at her bat mitzvah. Casanova has made a sand-colored blouse from Flashdance and a pair of teal blue satin toreador/motorcycle pant.  April’s black and silver grey dess is fierce and so is her model.

Casanova, April, Ivy, Andy, Gretchen are all safe. In the green room, they all talk shit about Wimpy. Michael Douche talks about his dress. Oh! Michael Kors says bat mitzvah, too. NinaGarcia is appalled by the upholstery fabric sheer that he bought for cheap. She says it looks like cheap mosquito netting. Christopher gets a little love. Cynthia Rowley loves it. Heidi likes the short, tight and shiny. Peach is savaged and there is no way to defend her. She knows it, too. Mondo claims that his model could wear “leggins” and flats with his dress. The judges think it looks tough and cool, but the Jersey Shore lo-brow styling is killing them.

Valerie is getting the same harsh treatment as Peach. Michael Kors calls her attempted color blocking unfortunate. To say the least. Cynthia Rowley explains proportions and NinaGarcia calls out the construction on the top. Heidi didn’t hate it as much as the others. Wimpy gets serious love. Even though he made a dress short enough for Heidi, the coverage of the lace at the top give it a modest look and a great proportion. MKors loves his draping at the shoulders. Miss Rowley loves the hip pocket. They all love that he turned drab dowdiness into chic edginess/edgy chicness. NinaGarcia loves his use of so many different materials.

The judges start with Wimpy’s dress and Heidi reminds everyone that the designers on Team Luxe were so universally mean to Michael C. The judges educate the viewers as to their opinion of Michael C’s skill sets and list the many virtues of the garment that was sent out. They like Christopher’s attempt to make faux organza drape. Mondo’s modern hot dress was styled like Snookie and the Flintstones, but not vulgar. Impeccable tailoring: perfect seams, perfect hems.

Valerie’s dress was a tennis dress gone very wrong. They loathed Michael Douche’s fabric. Peach is toast. Michael Kors says that she can sew well, at any rate. Gretchen, Andy and Ivy are all “if Michael C is on the top, why are we even here?” They are horrified. Wait until they find out he won and Mondo came in second. He gets immunity again. When Wimpy enters the green room and says he’s won, Ivy stone-faces “Of COURSE you did.” Gretchen confessionalizes that she is very disappointed that the judges don’t care about craftsmanship. Casanova points out that both Gretchen and Michael are twice winners. Gretchen looks for the razor blades.

Christopher is safe. Valerie is safe. Michael Douche and Peach had the two worst looks, but Michael gets to stay and Peach goes home. Don’t cry for Peach, viewers, for she has had the time of her life.  She was just jazzed to be there. April starts to cry. Mondo cries. Peach goes out in style.

Next week, resort wear, designers acting as art directors, maybe or some other form of collaboration that they don’t want and won’t be successful making work and it looks like Gretchen and her posse try to throw Michael C under yet another bus when he has immunity.

* An astute reader pointed out that it is not Bluto who will “gladly pay you on Tuesday for a hamburger today”, but Wimpy. Therefore and henceforth, we will be referring to Michael C as Wimpy.

We begin with a recap of last week’s episode, where Michael C (Bluto: I’ll give you couture tomorrow for a burger today) won and all the prissy divas (Ivy, Gretchen, Christopher) rolled their eyes, pouted and talked trash about his skills. But that was then and this is now. A team challenge, where there will be no team leader, but a group of 6 designers, who must work together. One member of the losing team will go home. As last week’s winner, Bluto picks first. He picks Gretchen, which prompts April to ask: “Do you wanna hire Hitler? Seriously?” Which is totally wrong. Gretchen’s style is much more Stalinesque.

The next designer chosen will be the first member of the second team, it’s April and she picks Mondo. Each freshly picked designer gets to chose the next team member. Gretchen picks Christopher. The final teams consist of Michael C, Gretchen, Christopher, Andy, Ivy and AJ are “Team Luxe”, or as Miz Shoes calls them, Team Prissy Divas. The other team is the classic high school lunch table assortment of freaks and geeks: April, Mondo, Casanova, Valerie, Michael Knitwear and Peach. April assesses Team Ego Freaks as a clusterfuck of personalities waiting to clash.

Tim gives the challenge: a 6-piece collection that is on trend for Fall 2010. There is a Chinese menu of trends and color stories. Pick one from each side, bring them together and create a collection. Gretchen signs that this will be a piece of cake for Team Masters of the Egoverse. They have an hour to sketch and a cool thou to spend at Mood. It’s another one-day challenge.

Over at the Lunch Table of Losers, Michael Knitwear encourages respect and individuality and being a team. They all hold hands and sing Kumbaya. On the other side of the room, Michael C is immediately ignored by the rest of his team as Gretchen has gotten the bit between her teeth. With Christopher as her trusty gay lieutenant and Ivy as her sniveling Renfield, they decide to do menswear in a palette of camel and beige. Miz Shoes wishes to weep. Some of the fabric choices were plaids, metallics, lace and jaguar/animal prints. But what did Team Our Futures’ So Bright We Gotta Wear Shades opt for? The most predictable and overdone for menswear: camel and beige and grey. Oh, the innovation is killing Miz Shoes here.

Team Loser votes to do military, using black (not green) lace. They share their drawings, and each picks up a design element from another team member. They are each doing their own thing, but working off of each other. Clever. Democratic. They discuss every fabric concept and assign areas of Mood shopping responsibility. Clever.  Mondo is Notions Boy. Miz Shoes suspects Mondo has that particular costume already prepared and hanging in the closet at the Atlas. The RLA says it has a blue cape. And he also wears Jason the Droog’s tool corset, but in purple cracked patent leather.)

Team Gretchen & the Sniveling Minions abuse Michael C. Bluto, sweetiedarling, Miz Shoes could have told you that the short, chubby Hispanic kid would never be cool enough to sit with the popular kids in the lunch room. You would have been better served to be on Team We Are the Losers Who Lunch.

The next thirty minutes are painful. El Nino del Infierno goes on the couch, curls up in the fetal position and weeps from the Critique of Tim Gunn. His model finally is able to rescue him from his dark mood and he goes back to the workroom to rework his concept. Team Gretchen is The Shit So Say We All treats Michael C with contempt and disrespect and when they see the way they were edited for this episode, Miz Shoes hopes they are suitably ashamed of themselves and apologize to their families for appearing on national television to have been raised by wolves. They talk trash and cannot envision a future where they are not the top of the heap. Let’s just skip that whole thirty minutes and go straight to the runway.

Michael Kors, NinaGarcia and guest judge Georgina Chapman, Founder of Marchessa. First collection is Los Losers, and the show leads with Mondo’s little black lace stripes top and shorts or mini-romper with no sleeves but plenty of brass and braids. It’s kicky. Miz Shoes wishes she could find another word for Mondo’s aesthetic, but kicky is the most accurate. Peach has left her comfort zone behind, making a sleek high-waisted skirt in blue with buttons and chains across the front, and a beautiful tank top of black lace over cranberry. It has a lovely sweetheart neckline. April has made another of her patent leather, lace, visible zippers, post-apocalyptic Klingon dresses. It fits the challenge perfectly and nods back to Mondo’s look. Valerie has used white and blue, and made a sharp little cropped jacket and skirt. There are lace insets at the shoulders. Next is El Nino del Infierno’s sheer, backless top and skin-tight white pants with a brass zipper and brass buttons all down the side seams. It is easily the best look, and well-made. Huh. And we end with Michael Knitwear’s LBD.

Team We Need To Get Over Ourselves Already leads off with AJ’s sheer linen big shirt over jodhpur-style leggings. Maybe he shouldn’t have tried to French seam that puppy, because those are not well made. For the record, Miz Shoes’ has sewn French seams before and they are not as hard as little AJ tried to make it appear. Christopher has made camel pants and a drapey blouse and a floppy jacket. He is certain that the tailoring is flawless. Andy’s “Grandpa” sweater has been belted with a narrow belt. This causes it to look like it’s been buttoned wrong. There is a huge brass exposed zipper all the way down to the hem. There are lots of zippers.

Heidi calls each member of Team Freaks and Geeks by name. They are the winning team. They have a group hug. Heidi sends the popular kids back to the green room to wait and consider how this could have happened to them. They are shocked. Christopher says that not being on top is uncomfortable. As they sit and talk about the fact that the judges were clearly insane, the same judges are pouring the love on Team Even The Losers Get Lucky Sometimes and explaining why they won. Eventually, Casanova is named the challenge winner and there are more group hugs.

More evil plotting and pinky swearing to have each other’s backs by Team We Still Don’t Know How We Could Have Lost to the Uncool Kids. On the runway, Gretchen continues to wank and lecture the judges. Then she cries. All the minions cry, too. Michael Kors rolls his eyes. Gretchen lectures the judges to be “mindful” of who they send home, because she won’t name a name. Until she does. NinaGarcia lets loose and explains that every garment has a proportion problem, that this is in no way a cohesive collection, and as for the color choices? NinaGarcia has to take a breath and look to the heavens for strength before she can utter the final “ghastly”.

There are another ten minutes where Gretchen and her minions all trash Michael C and declare he was the weakest link and immunity or not, should get sent home. Despite repeated warnings that the judges didn’t care about Michael C, and to name a valid victim, none of the cool kids do, sticking together and insisting that they are the shit. The judges, the blogosphere, the viewing audience and all sentient beings in the known universe see right through that bullshit and Gretchen’s endless stream of crocodile tears, but in the end it is AJ who gets sent home for only making one garment (damn those French seams of hard work), and not even putting any of himself into the design. The final confessional of Gretchen saying that he brought it on himself by making a shitty garment should make her mother proud.

PEE ESS: Tim Gunn comes into the green room snorting fire and brimstone (albeit in a very lovely suit and without so much as a hint of anger in his calm voice) and tells Team No, Really, Get the Fuck Over Yourselves that they should be ashamed of themselves for their behavior on the runway and that Gretchen is a bully and an asshole and they are too for following the Mean Girl. Ivy has the blinders lifted from her eyes. Or so she says. We’ll see next week how this week truly plays out.

Item the first: Miz Shoes did not receive her i-Tunes download of this episode until late Saturday night, making it impossible for her to meet the Blogging Project Runway Recapalooza deadline. She is not happy about that.

Item the second: Miz Shoes doubts sincerely that any of the contestants this week had ever heard of Philip Treacy, or else they would have shown some respect and imagination. Because she is so late to this particular rodeo, Miz Shoes is going to give her gentle readers the down and dirty overview and not a play by play.

The clothes hangers are all brought out to the runway wearing Philip Treacy hats and the usual black slips. The designers, starting with Andy who has immunity, get to chose which hat they want to work with, and as an after thought, the model wearing the hat. This is the first place that Miz Shoes’ blood pressure rises. These idiots do NOT look at the hats. They do NOT respect the hats. They are not inspired by the hats. Every single one of them sticks with their previously used model, hat be damned. People. This was not about the models’ feelings. It was not about how this nameless human clothes hanger is your (and they throw this word around as much as Gretchen uses “aesthetic”) “muse”. Please. You’ve been working with them for what, two weeks?

There is sketching time and money and Mood. Kristin, who was the last designer and had no choice but to work with her usual model and her unusual hat, is totally and completely flummoxed by the enormous orchid. She thinks it looks like a giant vagina and she has no idea what to do with it. Honey, if yours looks like that? Green, protuberant and striped? Whatever. She goes with black and hot pink. El Nino del Infierno is also perplexed by this challenge (but when isn’t he) and calls the hat a costume that is not a hat.

Gretchen is insufferable. Ivy is also insufferable. Peach is perplexed and goes back to her pink/yellow/boring pallette. Christopher is using a silver and black over-sized rose taffeta and making something that sorta kinda echos the shape of his hat. Tim loves it. Miz Shoes loves it. That’s a kiss of death these days. Michael the Knitwear guy is doing something that looks like corrugated cardboard mated with Edo-era armor. It is beautiful and worthy of his spade-shaped hat. Bluto is doing something awful. Andy is working with heavy magenta satin. Ivy is making something inspired by the fucking privacy curtains in the ER where she had been briefly treated for dehydration. Bitch, please. You have a Philip Bloody Treacy hat to work with, something that the average designer, much less the average American woman of style, will NEVER IN A MILLION YEARS BE ABLE TO HAVE HER HANDS ON, and you are inspired by the polyester privacy curtains? Go home. And while Miz Shoes is on the subject of Ivy, has the woman ever met a color she liked? Give her beige, nude, ecru, sand, greige, ivory and anything else with less than 10% shade to it, and she’ll whimper like my dog begging for a biscuit, but an actual color? Not in her “aesthetic” apparently. Mondo is making something with upholstery-weight double knit in white/black polka dots and gold and black leopard stripes and a purple sateen. It is beyond hideous. AJ is doing a frothy little number in navy and white polka dots. April is making resort wear for Hooville. The concept works with the hat. The execution does not.

At the runway, there is an excruciatingly twee bit involving Heidi, a PT rose chapeau and an audio over of Seal’s Kiss From a Rose. Everyone involved looks embarrassed. Philip Treacy is the guest judge and proves himself to be quietly well-spoken. So.

Photos: 1). A.J. 2). Andy 3). April 4). Casanova 5). Christopher 6). Gretchen
7). Ivy 8). Kristin 9). Michael C 10).Michael D. 11). Mondo 12). Peach 13). Valerie
Photos courtesy of ProjectRunway.com. and collage lifted wholesale from BloggingProjectRunway.com

AJ’s bouffant cupcake. Andy’s magenta Michellin Man. HIDEOUS. He’s so lucky he had immunity, because that is one ill-fitting, badly-proportioned, hot mess. April’s Hooville diaper set. Miz Shoes found it to be a lot less horrible than the judges. The concept was strong and worthy of the hat. El Nino del Infierno made a simple black knit dress. BORING. Christopher ruined a perfectly good tunic by making lumpy grey satin leggings and a top that wasn’t seen except for the crotch which gave the model the look of a full diaper on backwards. Black tights and an armload of bangles, and he could have been a contender.

Gretchen’s too-literal interpretation of the feathers in her hat, and those ugly, ugly, ugly legging with built-in boot/spats. They are so ugly, she might have a career ahead of her designing leggings for Lindsay Lohan. Ivy’s boring beige nothingness. Kristin’s messy mess. Miz Shoes just doesn’t get it. IF Miz Shoes could draft a pattern, she would have looked for striped chiffon, and lime green and made a floaty garden party dress (think Uli-style).

Bluto’s last minute replacement dress is a basic bronze goddess. It’s sort of lovely, even if it isn’t new or exciting. Michael the Knitwear Guy’s understated and simple little broomstick skirt of orange silk and architectural top. Mondo’s bad acid. Peach’s bad Barbie. Valerie’s baby doll dress with a stupid, and she claims David Bowie-inspired bolero jacket. The baby doll dress has a big black exposed zipper in the middle of the back, which may or may not be functional.

The judges have all been smoking crack in the green room again, because they announce AJ, Andy, Mondo, Ivy, Peach, Gretchen and El Nino del Infierno safe. April, Valerie, Kristin, Christopher, Bluto and KnitBoy are the tops and bottoms. The judges savage Christopher’s grey tunic, and send him off stage as safe, but barely. KnitBoy gets love, but not the win (Miz Shoes thinks he should have). Valerie inexplicably gets major love for her baby doll with the handkerchief hem. She’s merely safe. Bluto gets the win and in the green room, the other designers resent him and hate him for it, and talk smack about him pretty much to his face.

Back on the runway, Kristin and April are the last two. April is saved by two things: she HAD a concept and Philip Treacy liked it. Kristin has no such luck, and is sent home. The end.

In case you haven’t read it lately, or are buying in to the various right-wing and tea party arguments about the right of a mosque to be built near the 9/11 Ground Zero, allow me to refresh your memory concerning the First Amendment to the US constitution. It’s my personal favorite, by the way.

“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.”

See, all this blathering about can they or can’t they and is Obama a traitor to America for saying that a mosque can be built on what a very vocal minority thinks is Holy Ground, that’s all bullshit and beside the point. It is really, really simple. Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

It’s in the constitution. Separation of church and state. Right to assemble. Right to worship. No right to abridge the freedom of speech or religion. Done and fucking done, you pin-headed morons. If you want to make America a theocracy, you are the traitor to the basic tenets of the Founders. Simple as that.

No official state religion. Not yours, not mine, not theirs. I think a very wise judge just pointed this out a couple of weeks ago in San Francisco: You cannot legislate morality based on your ideals of religious rightness. This whole mosque debate is moot. Any religion can build a house of worship anywhere they want in this country. Within the local zoning regulations, at any rate.

Even Michael Bloomberg, who has had no problem banning smoking in NYC bars, and who turned the seamy underbelly of Times Square right side out, pressed it, cleaned it and made it into a family-friendly Disney park, knows this much: “We do not honor their lives by denying the very Constitutional rights they died protecting. We honor their lives by defending those rights — and the freedoms that the terrorists attacked.” (referring to the men and women who died in the attacks)

In sum, STFU. Mosque, temple, church, mission house, synagogue, Kingdom Hall, stupa, wat, Gurudwara, atashkada, or shrine, any of these can be built in America. Anywhere. Even in New York City.

Before we begin, a final “Ode to Jason”, with apologies to Leonard Cohen.

With Jason gone,
Whose brain to compare to a small hard pea?
Not that I did compare,
But I do compare,
Now that he’s gone.

Thank you. Don’t forget to tip the waitress.

Previously on Project Runway, Gretchen wins, Jason is auffed and Nicholas cries. Now it’s another orange morning in Manhattan. This is no time to be cute. Gretchen is obnoxious, and the other designers hate her already. Model selection, where Gretchen keeps her muse and the two other hangers go home. Party! No, it’s the unconventional material challenge. This year, it’s a party supply store. Tim advises the group that using things that are like fabric (table cloths, wrapping paper, etc) is not loved by the judges. AJ, with his drag queen/Heatherette portfolio is generally acknowledged to have the edge going in. Will he crack under the pressure of expectations? Will Gretchen get her head out of her ass, or has the swelling become so bad that it is now anally impacted?

As has already become usual, Casanova, or as Miz Shoes has now dubbed him, El Niño del Infierno, doesn’t get it. He complains that he cannot make couture from party hats, so he instead buys plush puppies, table covers and anything else that looks like fabric. Gretchen tosses the word “aesthetic” around in every conversation. Bluto (Michael “I’d gladly make couture for you tomorrow for a hamburger today” Costello) is psyched. Mondo and AJ are both going with a birthday theme, but Mondo insists that a quince is different and AJ insists that it isn’t. AJ goes off to tweak his concept. Tim announces that the winner will have immunity. Gretchen continues to swan around the workroom, dispensing unasked for advice, glorying in her own genius and generally getting the bitch edit. Miz Shoes had her pegged as insufferable from the first. Casanova guts the plush puppies and drapes their little fuzzy pelts on his mannequin.

April is game. Mono is wearing yet another pair of outrageous glasses. AJ is back peddling on his claims of being able to design with innovative materials. He just won’t shut up. He’s one of those people who chatters when nervous. Valerie is working in black and white. Sarah’s sketches look a lot like her dress from last week. Same lines. But with cardboard palm leaves. En Nino del Infierno defends his use of plastic table cloths. Andy is making braids from ribbon. Another use of the word “aesthetic”. Gretchen is trying to psych out Christopher. More Gretchen bashing and Gretchen giving the editors plenty to work with on that particular story arc. AJ is panicking. Tim and Valerie bond over love of the Ascot Gavotte.

Andy is experimenting. Kristin is making a bohemian dress, and Ivy calls it a jelly fish. Dis. Kristin has bought bags of Animal Woolly Balls. She also has real balls. Tim prefers the wooly balls. It is just hysterical. Ivy is using mylar balloons. Christopher is making fabric out of his parts. Tim tells Peach that she needs to take the lump of coal she has stuck up her rear end, turn it into a diamond and pull it out. Miz Shoes considers the possibility that Our Mr. Gunn may be on pain meds. Bluto is doing something monochromatic and red. Tim calls it sensational. Sarah has used floral paint on her palm leaves, Tim loves the palette and playful shapes. Schiaparelli, he says. Gretchen hand cut “chevrons” in her fringe. Faux leather from crumpled paper bags. She is so smug.

El Niño del Infierno is troubled because the other designers have told him that he can’t use tablecloths, but that’s all he bought (except for the now-disemboweled plush puppies). Tim says that he never said “couldn’t” use, merely “shouldn’t” use. Did El Niño del Infierno not listen? Oh, he listened, he just, and we quote, “didn’t get the point”. Dude. Yours is not to wonder why, yours is but to do or die. And frankly, he is killing Miz Shoes. Tim tells him to make it work. He tells the room that the concepts are “profound”. Sarah is lost, and Gretchen gives her advice: scrap the pink. Sarah takes Gretchen’s advice. Bitch, please. Did Mr. Gunn not just say that he loved the palette? When the models come in, they are carrying bags of more party crap. For the added twist, the designers have to use the materials in those bags to create an accessory to their looks.

Andy only has his muslin for the model to try on. Sarah’s not happy with her dress, just wants to get it finished. Ivy is running out of time. Andy is running out of time. It’s midnight and there are a lot of unfinished garments left in the workroom as the designers go home for the night. In the morning, Mondo asks his roommates if he should wear a fake mustache or not. Predictably, the only one who responds well to the atrocity is Casanova, who advises that Mondo wear the press-on facial accessory to the runway. Gretchen pretends that she doesn’t think she is going to win again. Valerie says that if she’s in second place again, she’s just going to be the Susan Lucci of Project Runway. That would be Korto, who was robbed twice for the big check, thank you. Still, Miz Shoes recognizes a good line when she sees (and can steal) one, so good for you Valerie.

Workroom before the runway show, and Sarah is resigned to her fate and there is general mayhem about. We see more Gretchen swanning around getting the bitch edit (understandably, sometimes it’s just too easy not to run with the plot line you are handed by the subject…but for those of us in the audience too oblivious to be annoyed by her, there is a long pause on a rhinestone tiara that spells out “BITCH” as Gretchen has a bossy-girl voice over). AJ whips out a fabulous necklace in minutes. Gretchen bosses around the make-up staff. Ivy says, like my face, only professional. Sarah is still waffling. Peach realizes that Andy has genius going on on his mannequin and clearly not enough time to finish, so she helps him. April has also finished her dress, and she comes to his aid, too. Gretchen sniffs about some people have time management issues, but not her and we are off to the runway. Christopher has made this amazing fabric out of napkins and his dress is fragile. Sarah’s doesn’t fit, Andy has made a glove out of a balloon.

Heidi is fabulous in beige and ivory. Challenge review. Judges are Michael Kors, NinaGarcia and a very special guest: Betsey Johnson, who defines the word “fabulous” and deserves her description as icon. Christopher’s dress is a simple little party dress, but he has created the fabric out of napkins. That sentence does not do justice to what he did, though. The base is mustard yellow, but there is something shiny going on, too. Did he fuse circles of mylar tulle onto the base? There are shiny tiny stripes of individual shreds of mylar in purple, gold and teal that he has placed vertically on thethe stripy tulle. It is just an amazing piece of fabric. Stunning. Michael the Knitter sends out a foil skirt and mylar fringe top. Andy’s ribbon dress looks like leather and chain. And has anyone talked about his model Cassie? That girl can work it. AJ’s Hello Kitty flamingo cupcake. Ivy’s petal ballerina/garden party/cocktail dress. Bluto’s flamenco dress. He has used at least three different textured items in the same shade of crimson to make an evening dress. There is crepe paper used as tiers of ruffles from about knee down, above that to the waist are silk flowers? maybe, and the bodice of cut plastic cups that create paillottes, one shoulder and fitted beautifully. This is the first knock-out from him.

Peach has used zebra print, white and hot pink and made a saucy little number with a matching purse. Gretchen’s flapper skirt. She says that she could see herself wearing it. In the make up room, she said the look was “the girl everyone wants to be”. Bitch edit. Hot pink party dress from Mondo. There is a bustier of hot pink plastic plate edges made into armor, and a mini-poodle skirt of darker oranger pink plastic leis. The less said about what Mondo himself is wearing, the better. El Niño del Infierno has also made a flamenco dress, his has alternating panels of dolphin grey “thousand of ruffles” and what used to be a Transformers tablecloth. Bizarre graphics and matte grey. A bodice made of mylar fringe.  Kristin has made a baby doll bodice out of stripes that remind Miz Shoes of Fruit Stripe gum.

There is some sort of green plastic swagging that makes a grass skirt like fringe-y thing. April talks about her Klingon “aesthetic”. Sarah’s sad little dress is sad. She’s just happy that it isn’t falling off. Valerie’s Ascot Gavotte is well-made and graphic.

Peach, Bluto, Ivy, Kristin, Michael the knit guy, Mondo, Christopher and April are safe. They leave. The models come back out. Valerie, Gretchen of course and Andy are the tops, say the other designers. Ivy thinks that AJ and Sarah will be the last two standing. This challenge, the model will be automatically out if her designer is auffed. Valerie explains that she took the judges comments to heart with her styling. MKors says that she’s taken a complete 360. Oh Noes! Mr Kors a 360 would put her back where she started. You mean she made a complete 180. Gretchen deigns to nod sagely during MKors’ critique. Betsey Johnson is whack. AJ says he is inspired by NYC Club Kidz. Heidi says it looks silly, but she loves the necklace. NinaGarcia calls the dress a “hot mess” and AJ says thank you. Heidi gives him a short sharp course correct: That was not a compliment. MKors finds the fringe crotch to be tasteless. Betsey Johnson says that she’d wear it, and that it wasn’t over the top enough. Andy’s dress inspires MKors to say that he could see Heidi and Rhianna fighting over it. He has a very valid point. Betsey says that it is too pretty, and not enough party.

El Niño del Infierno explains why he was too good to use the materials he was asked to use. His model is wearing a plush puppy like a cowl/boa. He should have left the head and feet. That would have had Betsy clawing for him to win. Transvestite Flamenco Dancer at a Funeral. You have no taste. Sarah gives a half-hearted explanation of her sad dress. Heidi calls it sad. MKors gets to the very heart of it and says that it looks like she got so hung up on making the palm fronds work that she couldn’t let go and admit that they didn’t and move on to a new direction. MizShoes spent many years in therapy to be able to do that very thing, and relates to Sarah Trost. Gretchen uses finger quotes around the word “leather”, the top is made from a balloon. NinaGarcia wrote “fabulous”, MKors says that she uses herself as a template and he applauds that. Everyone else loves Gretchen uncritically.

Backstage, Gretchen dominates the conversation and AJ snaps and tells her that she talks all the time. (Miss Pot? This is Miss Kettle.) There is much shushing and eye-rolling and Gretchen says that AJ is just sensitive because he’s in the bottom. Oh, she did not go there, did she? She did. Bitch edit. On the runway, MKors and NincaGarcia ridicule El Niño del Infierno. Betsey says Sarah’s dress could have been more embellished, and MKors speaks up for Sarah, saying that she recognized that she had failed and adding that it takes a lot of strength to admit you screwed the pooch. AJ’s mess was a mess. Valerie’s dress was beautiful, sexy but not vulgar, and well-styled. It was Lovely. Andy’s look was well put together. Well cut. Gretchen’s look would be worn exactly as is by Kate Moss. And this is a good thing? It isn’t entirely unfactual or slang expressin to say that Kate Moss is often cracked-out.

Best. Worst. In. Out. Valerie’s in. Andy, Gretchen, one of you will be the winner. Andy, you’re the winner. Cut to Gretchen looking disbelieving that her minions didn’t recognize her brilliance once again. She leaves the runway. AJ is in. El Niño and Sarah are the bottom two. Casanova, you have no taste. None. Sarah, your dress was sad and boring, you should have trusted your instincts and not listened to Gretchen. The parade float gets to stay, and Miz Shoes’ early-season favorite goes home. Bummer. Air kisses. Bluto cries. He’s sweet. Tim comes in and loves the fabulous show, and Sarah calls him Mr. Gunn. She recognizes that she sent out a bad piece. Wait!!! Ambulances again???? At the Atlas? Someone is unconscious in the hallway. Ivy has fainted. She has to go to the hospital? Valerie says it seems serious and she doesn’t know if Ivy is going to have to go home.

Next week? Philip Treacy? NO FUCKING WAY!!! That is so huge. Miz Shoes lurves the Philip Treacy. We see neither Sarah nor Ivy in the remaining preview, and Miz Shoes wonders if Ivy does go home and Sarah gets to come back…

I came late and unwilling to the Facebook party, dragged by a boss who wanted me to have an account where I could spy on anyone who might say something bad about the company, and then found and friended by my cousins. The boss left, and I discarded the mask of corporate dogsbody, and continued on as myself.

This has led to my discovery by people from my past, one reason why I never wanted to be on Facebook to begin with. I have a fairly easy presence to find on the web, what with the blog, the Flickr account, the etsy shop, membership on Ravelry. I always figured that anyone who wanted to find me, could. Some did. Others did and I was able to delete the e-mail with nobody the wiser.

But now my high school class has a page and a couple of people I haven’t seen or heard in forty years are on it. I have friended one or two people, and I just know where this is going to lead. I’ll show up as someone’s friend and someone else will write to me. To friend or not to friend, that is the question. Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms a sea of troubles…

To be or not to be– that is the question:

Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles

And, by opposing, end them. To die, to sleep

No more – and by a sleep to say we end

The heartache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to – ‘tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep

To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there’s the rub,

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause.

People,  please. Consider this cartoon.

That was me. As I have written elsewhere, in high school, I was the lowest worm below the bottom rung of the social ladder. I was a freak and an outcast, but not a Freak. (freaks, greasers, soches, jocks, band… they each had a caste, and although I could flow between some of them—-never the jocks, never the greasers, never the rednecks—- I was never one of them. Of any of them.)

Yesterday, someone who was a friend of mine, and whom I haven’t seen in 40 years, accepted my friend request with a note that said that she’d always admired me for just being myself and never giving a fig for what anyone thought.

Oh, Laurie, you are so wrong. I cared deeply. I cried. I was miserable and lonely. I sat at home every Saturday night. But what was the point in trying to fit in? I couldn’t or I would already have. I learned at an early age to accept myself, just as I learned to accept my curly hair.

She isn’t the only person from my high school to have sidled up to whisper that they always wished they could have been as strong as I was. You people never gave me a chance to be anything but. Any weakness on my part would have been exploited. I learned that in elementary school, where I was the smallest kid in our class and it was considered great sport for the tallest and strongest girls to play tether ball with me. They would whack that ball so hard and so high over my head, as I stood there in the sand waiting for it to finish spiraling into a tight wrap against the pole while everyone watched and laughed.

In our sophomore year, I was on the swim team, and sat alone on every bus ride to every meet. I lettered, but I never went back for a second season. In our sophomore chemistry class, Paul Parrela called me a dirty Jew every single day. Do you remember who told him to stop? It wasn’t the teacher. It wasn’t anyone else in the class for the whole first semester. The first day of the second semester David Stanley (who was on the swim team with me) told Paul to shut up. He did, for all of a week. Then he started again. When I finally snapped and tried to cut him with my dissection scalpel, which of us got sent to Coach Willie’s office? Paul for calling me a dirty Jew (and worse, much much worse) or me? Right. Me, and threatened with suspension, except Coach Willie was too much of a coward to call my father and tell him that I was being suspended for hitting someone who was calling me ethnic slurs while the entire adult staff stood by and ignored it.

In our senior year I tried out for the school play, and got the understudy role for the lead. When I got on stage to rehearse my song, the popular girls sat in front of the stage and laughed at me. I quit the show and got a lecture from the drama coach about letting people down, but never got an apology from the girls who drove me from the stage in tears.

In some ways, being an outcast made me more of one, because freed of the bonds of social acceptance, I could explore any thing in any direction. When I went off to college, I discovered my own tribe. I was the queen of cool, there among the art and film students. Among the other outcasts, in other words. And now? Well, what I am is what I am.

First thoughts are that Jason is more Christofuh Moltisanti than Alex the Droogie, and Mondo is an insufferable twink who actually uttered the phrase “sometimes I think my gift is my curse” on national television, which means that he could have gone viral and become a famous internet twink by now. Oh please, little girl, who do you think you are, John Leguisamo in “To Wong Fu”? Not so much, but Miz Shoes recognizes that Mondo can design and sew something fierce.

Morning in the Atlas and Peach is being Sweet Pea 2.0 and Savannah Art Student April is being cute. In the high maintenance boys’ room, Andy has a make up airbrush and Bluto from Palm Springs mocks him, all the while looking at the device with covetous glances. Mondo is already crying and moping and whining that he’s just too strange for anyone to love him. Butch up, bitch, you are not the only little gay poseur in high school any more. Mondo has already grated Miz Shoes last nerve very, very raw and she hopes sincerely that Gretchen does not do something that causes her to fling a martini glass at the laptop.

The designers go to the Atlas roof to meet up with Tim, Heidi and Joanna Coles, the Editor in Chief of Marie Claire (aka Ninagarcia’s boss). This challenge will be to design an outfit that embodies the Marie Claire woman…intelligent, driven, powerful, stylish. And too cheap or stupid to read Vogue, not that anyone would mention that out loud. The winner will have their design featured on a billboard in Times Square, which is, OK, huge in more ways than one. Christopher, the cute one from San Francisco, calls the prize “operatic”. That’s an, uh, interesting choice of words and not one that Miz Shoes could have come up with in a million years. It’s a one-day challenge, half an hour to draw, $150 at Mood.

What in the name of Coco Chanel is AJ wearing? A toddler’s sailor suit, unless our eyes deceive us. With a widdle captain’s hat, a yellow tie with blue anchors over a blue and white windowpane check shirt? Gah. What has been seen cannot be unseen. He is designing for an amalgam of Courtney Love, Gwen Stephanie and Blondie. All of whom individually and collectively wouldn’t be caught dead reading MC. Gretchen is smug about her choice of making pants, which she has never done, just to make things challenging for herself. While everyone else is sketching (and on the product placement computer devices, thank you), Mondo is making a shopping list of what he’ll need at Mood, which is the first time we’ve ever seen someone do that. Is it because we’re getting our extra footage, or because nobody has ever had that much sense before? It is interesting, and includes things like “pretty little buttons”.

Jason has created an homage to Season Eight, or a dress that goes to Infinity and Beyond! Is he developmentally challenged? No, really. Seriously. The bowler isn’t to intimidate people, it’s because he’s not allowed out without protective headgear. Short bus. Tim calls it a “shopping exposition to Mood.” Miz Shoes will not allow herself to believe he did that on purpose. Mmmmmmm, buttons. We see the designers scurry around Mood, grabbing shit at random and panicking. Casanova says that $150 isn’t enough to make a sophisticated gown. He doesn’t have a problem then, does he, thinks Miz Shoes. Nicolas has discovered geometry in the shape of a circle. Thank you, Mood.

Back in the workroom, they have until midnight and Peach is already pouring flop sweat. The designers are beginning to bitch about each other already. Valerie is yammering about about her trench dress with extras. There is some weird interaction where AJ loses his shit over Casanova asking about a simple design problem. We see Casanova ask a lot of advice from a lot of the other designers. AJ might have been provoked is all we’re saying, despite the editing.

Tim does his walkies and really responds well to Valerie’s dress, but calls her zipper brassy. Tim gives Mondo a pep talk, and asks to see his sketches, but Mondo doesn’t have any, and Tim tells him that based on his dress from last week, he’s willing to go on blind trust. Really, Tim? Really? It is during Tim’s interaction with Jason that we realize that Jason is channeling Christofuh. He is belligerently, proudly stupid. He may be functionally retarded or merely OCD. For that matter, are half these people retarded? They are designing for a billboard and they are using black and navy and beige and grey. A billboard in Times Square, which means there will be a lot going on around it, visually, so you had better design something that will read at 40 feet high. Ooh, trash talk about Casanova from the rest. Nicholas has made a big old copy of Gretchen’s dress, she says. Big circle of fabric. Bluto is using a black and silver leaf print that Tim calls Blanche Deveraux (don’t be dissing, Blanche, Tim). Peach is still panicking, and starts over, and then panics some more and starts over again. There is a twist, of course. They have a photo shoot with a Marie Claire photographer and their model to capture the image of their design and the MC Woman. Jason’s a putz. Casanova is a tool. Nicholas foreshadows his own departure by talking about how he’s forming friendships.

Valerie, Sarah, Ivy and Gretchen are girl bonding. AJ points out that there is just something wrong with Jason and calls him shady. Peach is resigned to being sent home. Mondo keeps to himself, while everyone asks where he is, and that’s when he starts crying and says that his gift is a curse. It’s at that exact moment that Miz Shoes screams GET OVER YOURSELF. More girl bonding. Ivy yaps about her vision thing. Mondo has had a good night’s sleep and is wearing the most hideous ensemble ever seen on Project Runway, and we have seen Stella’s Dr. Seuss leggings. Mondo’s little skirt and top, however, are magnificent. Hair and makeup. Gretchen and her swatches.

Peach says her model is covered in Barbie’s sofa. Photo shoot. Jason runs out of time and makes the design decision to use giant safety pins as closures along the front seam of his dress. Bluto says that Jason is creepy, so he agrees with every thing he says, then makes Psycho shower scene knife stabs and accompanying sound FX. April’s dress is has Klingon shoulders. Andy’s plum and grey dressy pant suit is stylish. Valerie’s dress is hot. Sarah’s dress is sculptural and the colors are very sophisticated: plum, coral and steel. Mondo is good as an art director, nails the shoot and uses the product name almost naturally. Jason is a putz and has styled his model like a boxer, then choses the worst possible shot. He goes on to confessionalize about how the judges have to look past his disabilities like not being able to sew when he is a contestant on a sewing show. He is a speshul snowflake, isn’t he?

Runway. No immunity. Judges. Michael Kors, Ninagarcia, Joanna Coles. Photos will be taken into account when they score. Nicholas leads with his thing, and he is stunned to note that the judges are not impressed with the fluttery, badly sewn back of his top, nor with the tortured hemline of his skirt and they openly despise the cape. Christopher’s made a black pencil skirt and a dark top in chocolate brown with mustard gold facings and a narrow, yet plunging scoop neck. If they were doing a cover and not a billboard, it would be perfect. Jason is delusional. Bluto has made another Vegas hooker turned politician’s wife dress. AJ has made an utter failure in school bus yellow and black. Peach is OK with her dress. Michael the Knitwear guy is terrified by the fact that he’s made a tunic, not a dress and pretends that he meant to make it that short. Ivy made an ivory tank dress, ho hum. Valerie’s dress leaps off the runway, because it is red, well made and fashionable. Sarah’s plum, coral and tweedy brown/black are gorgeous. Andy has made origami sleeves of his purple organza. Pretty flashy. Casanova’s made a matronly navy top and a white pencil skirt. Kristin, peaches, ivories, pink. Gretchen’s paper weight navy linen romper. Mondo’s really cheeky little ensemble, with bounce and energy. From the front, April’s taupe and midnight blue organza is interesting. From the back, the exposed large-scale zipper is jolting.

Mondo, Peach, Nicholas, Jason, Valerie and Gretchen are the tops and bottoms and you can see where this is going. AJ breaks down and cries. Huggies all around. Bluto predicts that Valerie will win, everyone laughs at Jason’s combat boots and safety pins, then assure the viewers that Jason is a really talented menswear designer who just happens to be off his meds at the moment and they don’t want to anger him.

Peach tries to defend her yellow and pink dress. Matronly. Peach lets the judges know how many other dresses she made before she admitted defeat and sent this out. They are suitably impressed. Valerie’s fire engine red dress is gorgeous. Ninagarcia gushes over it. Joanna Coles loves it. MKors loves it. Jason gets eviscerated. MKors calls it a walk of shame dress, and Jason is a putz.

Gretchen talks about filling the page, and says that anyone from 22 to “way into their 40s and 50s” would want to wear it. MKors says that she’s a modern girl and the judges claim that the Marie Claire reader is intelligent. Nicholas gets savaged by NinaGarcia. Utterly unsexy, says Joanna. They ask for the cape to come off and then realize that the blouse is so awful that she needs to keep the cape on. Mondo calls his look young, flirty and with touch of whimsy, claiming inspiration from the opening credits of the Mary Tyler Moore show. Joanna says that the opening credits are what inspired her to move to New York and NinaGarcia loves the whole look, and then Joanna says that this is the first time in history that she and NinaGarcia have ever agreed on anything except for Gretchen’s jump suit two minutes ago.

Jason says that his model sucked and that the judges didn’t get his concept of Infinity and Beyond and that he doesn’t give a damn about his bad reputation, and the other designers all look uncomfortable, probably what the other folks in Christofuh Moltisanti’s AA group looked like when he was on a tear.

The judges love Mondo’s look. Confident and whimsical, and not at all like a bad catalog. Getchen’s jumpsuit is deemed sophisticated but not old. Seasonless, timeless, ageless. Joanne calls Valerie’s dress an “old friend”. Has Jason ever spoken to a woman, asks Joanne. Nicholas was a disaster. Peach was desperate housewife, well made, but hopelessly old lady. So how many go home?

Mondo, we loved everything about your outfit, you’re in. He gets much love from the other designers and stops whining. They like him, they really like him. Gretchen, you made a jump suit. Valerie, you made a killer dress and styled it perfectly. Gretchen, you win and Valerie, you’ve been screwed. Gretchen admits to feeling prideful. Then she says she has set a very high bar. Bluto deservedly mocks Gretchen’s tone and then says that Valerie should have won. Miz Shoes agrees.

Peach, too old or too young, but not right. Nicholas, you threw everything including the kitchen sink at this and it all blew chunks. Peach, you are barely safe.  Jason, you are a sociopathic jerk who may be borderline retarded, go home. Jason is a putz backstage and leaves. Nicholas gets sent home, and sobs and sobs. Everyone loves on him, including Tim.

Billboard model turns out to be Coco Rocha, who is apparently a big name in models. Next week, the unconventional material challenge takes place in a party supply superstore, and somebody faints.

Well, Miz Shoes caved. The desire for Project Runway overcame sense and sensibility and she paid for a season pass on i-Tunes. What? She’s a junkie, she admits it. This also means that for the first time, I can watch without taking notes, just absorb the action and get a visceral response. Geek goddess that I am, I am watching the show on my i-pad and taking notes on the laptop using a new app that is supposed to be the bomb, Evernote. We’ll see how this works out, non?*

And we’re off. Orange Manhattan. That’s new. It used to be a lurid shade of green. And what’s this? Heidi and Tim as the all-knowing talking head narrators? Oh look, it’s Alex from Clockwork Orange.

AJ, Andy. April, who looks like my school friend Psycho Patti. Kristin who makes mistakes and Mondo with an Emo cut. McKell with white girl dreads and a baby. Gretchen. Christopher. Ivy, who thinks this is going to be the Ivy show. Casanova from Puerto Rico, who is now in New Jork. He looks like the bastard child of Ron Perlman and a mule. Sarah Trost has a bling belt with her name on it and a Gwen Stephani vibe. She mixes materials. She and AJ (Daniel Vosovic V.2). He’s obviously watched this show. Peach is 50 and from Wake Forrest. She designs for the Ladies Who Lunch. She’s kinda funny. She meets up with Nicholas. More contestants meet other contestants. McKell delivers the “I’m doing this for my brand-new baby to give her a great life” reading. That never works well for the hamsters on ANTM, honey. You might want to have a life plan that involves something other than winning the lottery.

Jason, AKA Alex the Droog.

He’s straight and he boxes. He is wearing a derby hat to intimidate the other contestants. Uh-huh. Well, at least it isn’t one of the twee little army caps in plaid, Logan’s knit rasta rag, Santino’s pork pie over do-rag, or any other version of the stupid twee hats we see every season. At least it’s a new hat. Miz Shoes is not so sure about the intimidation factor without the eye lashes and white cod-piece, but maybe Jason the Droog can work it. He’s a little stupid, asking Gretchen what nationality she is. American, a-hole.

Oh, lord. Mondo makes hand gestures, wears a twee bow tie and a twee hat when he’s not doing the emo hair. Nicholas used to be an architect. More meetings. If this is the extra half hour, Miz Shoes is unimpressed. April makes dark beautiful, destroys to create. Michael is from Palm Springs, and makes a haute/hot joke. He says that he’ll gladly give you a couture gown tomorrow for a burger today. He makes little devil horns over his head. Snooze.

Lincoln Center. Heidi and Tim. There are 17 of you. Only 16 will get a bed in the Atlas. There is one more challenge before you are really a contestant. Open your suitcase and pull out one item you would like to incorporate into your garment. Now pass that item to the person to your right. Casanova stands like he’s been gobsmacked. He’s given his $1700** pair of Dolce & Gabbana trousers to someone who is going to cut them up. Gretchen is a sustainable clothing designer from Portland. She is dragging that beaded blouse through the gutter, totally disrespecting it. Valerie was poor so she learned to retrofit crap from the store. And they are in the workroom. Brother sewing room. The HP touch notebooks. Mood has brought fabric to them. Randomly selected models. 15 minutes to sketch. Andy is from Hawaii and used to design pageant gowns. Miz Shoes notes that the designers are drawing in their sketchbooks, the little computers sitting all alone and unused on the tables beside them.

Gretchen is already starting to work Miz Shoes nerves. Casanova is miserable watching his Dolce & Gabbanas get shredded. Droogie is not doing anything to his kimono, Peach is panicking over the fact that Michael’s machine knit is unraveling. Michael is a bit of a bitch about it. McKell has taken a man’s shirt, cut it away into a racer top and paired it with a fluffy print bubble skirt with raw seaming. Nicholas has been working with a polyester Member’s Only bomber jacket. He’s turning it into an evening gown, using the ribbed knit bottom band as an off-the-shoulder neckline. Tim is intrigued. Cassanova has made something that he calls sexy and Tim is concerned that it might be a little slutty, slutty, slutty.

April has turned her man’s tuxedo jacket inside out and is working spontanteously. Valerie talks trash about April. Droog is wearing a corset that Miz Shoes is certain he designed himself. It is, admittedly, sorta kinda cool, in that it is actually his tool belt. Sort of Batman/bondage/carpenter. Miz Shoes may possibly want one for herself. Droog hasn’t done anything other than turn the kimono inside out and drape the sleeves around the neck. Tim is concerned. Tim rolls his eyes.

Gretchen has already used the PiperLime accessory wall thoughtfully. No, really, Gretchen may turn out to be our winner, and she may be pretty and terribly self-contained and self-aware and even well put together, and she may have that Portland-Off-The-Grid aesthetic going on, but there is something about her that makes Miz Shoes grind her teeth. She is discussing the essence of the piece and what is the story that the piece is telling.

Peach, talk to me. The scarf has “no forgiveness.” Even Our Mister Gunn is appalled by the qualities of the fabric of Michael’s knit scarf. Machine knit. Miz Shoes is tempted, as a hand-knitter to opine at length about machine knits and the kind of people (there’s one here in Miami) who use knitting machines and deliberately jam their prongs and do other horrible things to them to force the machine to knit in rips and runs and irregularities as integral parts of the fabric. Miz Shoes considers machine knitters who have never held a stick and are more concerned with using materials that were never meant to create fabric to create fabric than with the usable qualities (drape, hand, next-to-skin wearability) of that fabric to be something less than the artisans they think they are. But she digresses, and veers close to a rant. We’ve only seen 5 minutes of Michael. Let us not judge…yet. Tim suggests layering the brickish red scarf under the tulle. Peach is grateful. An aside regarding Peach. She may be the sweet, light version of Mila. So far she has only been seen in black and white, she gave away a pair of black and white toile pants (which she KISSED! before passing them to April, so clearly they are her lucky pants or some such shit) and she is using an equivalent black and white modern print for her garment, which is cute, in a young-ladies-who-lunch sort of way. Maybe she’s another Wendy Pepper?

Mondo is wearing a polka dot head wrap. Tim finds his dress matronly. Really? say Mondo and Miz Shoes in unison. Workroom. Models. Hair and makeup. Styling with the PiperLime stuff. Droogie is a disgusting pig about his model’s BOOBIES!!!! Whoo, boobies. Way to go, Jason the Droog. Peach is panicking. Droogie wants his model to have Medusa hair. He clearly hasn’t noticed that his model has bleached blonde hair that is at most, two inches long. Droogie must not have looked higher than her BOOBIES!!!! NAKED BOOBIES!!! (And they belong to him. He said so.)

Casanova can’t tell the difference between the hair salon and the make up room. He wants something that is dreadfully close to the girls on the roof in West Side Story. Getchen is giving the make-up designer exacting instructions, down to swatches that she wants him to match. She ueses the word dewey. Really. Annoying. Fifteen minutes to runway. Kristin has forgotten her model. She’s still sitting in hair, and never got to make up. Nicholas is freaking out. McKell has sewn her model in, and the model’s hair is awful. Droogie is stapling his model into the dress. Everyone goes down to the runway, except Casanova. He wasn’t finished. The model comes out. Tim isn’t sure that he’s really done? Oh, yeah, he is.

Shiny runway is shiny. Heidi threatens that more than one may go. Recap of the challenge. Only 5 hours to put the look together. List of prizes. Yippee! No more Blow Fly. Now it’s PIperLime. Michael Kors, NinaGarcia, and Selma Blair. Which came first, Selma Blair or Zooey Deschanel?

Valerie’s dress is from the D&G pants is olive green, coral pink and gold. The color blocking is amatuerish and the hem is wonky. The back is worse. Peach’s little dress is cute. McKell’s fabric looks cheap and the model is carrying a huge hot pink purse, and we see one of the other designers say that it is perfect styling. That would be Kristin the graphic designer who makes great mistakes. Uh-huh. Andy sends out a black on black ensemble with a Chinese coolie hat and hair held up with chopsticks. If anyone other than Hawaiian Andy did it, it would be as suspect as Casanova’s big hair and red lips. In the frame that is frozen on my i-pad, NinaGarcia is in the background, holding her red scoring card over her eyes. Or maybe shielding her eyes from the glare of the lights. Or maybe doing a little cropping. Holy shit, his model just busted a move.

Sarah Trost seems like she’d be a lot of fun to hang out with. She has made a romper out of a man’s shirt. Forgive Miz Shoes her sartorial sins, but she has a fondness for rompers and jumpsuits. Miz Shoes was still young in the 80’s and honestly, she had a putty-colored jumpsuit from the original version of Banana Republic, when it was still selling government surplus. She rocked that jumpsuit six ways from Sunday, with big belts and a pair of ankle-high leopard-print suede boots that were baggy and had wrap around laces of chamois. (Miz Shoes still has them, as a matter of fact. Want to see pictures?) Anyway, despite the scorn that will deservedly be heaped on her for admitting this, Miz Shoes like Sarah’s little mini-romper.

Nicholas’s dress is a dress. It has an exposed back zipper and a built-in waist purse. Mondo’s dress is still ugly. He has paired a pea-green jersey with what looks like the upholstery from the couch in the dorm room that always had a beer-bong going. Mondo loves it, even with its wonky hem. Ivy loves her Capri pants with the over-shredded, not-quite-matching top she has made to go with. Meh. Michael “give me a burger and I’ll give you couture” from Palm Springs sends out a skin-tight leatherette mini skirt and a pretty hot pink blousson tank top with a cowl neck and a surprise back. Michael says it is a classy, sophisticated look. Miz Shoes thinks that those words don’t mean what Michael thinks they mean. Kristin has taken Mondo’s little emo skirt and used it to make a dramatic collar for a sleeveless coat dress of heavy material that she has not so much draped into interesting folds at the skirt front, as hammered into shape. Christopher has completely reinvented the dress he had to work with. It’s cute. April’s tuxedo jacket dress is too short, has an irregular hem and looks like student work. She’s happy with it.

Gretchen gives a smug voice-over about nailing it, winning it, working it. It’s a little black dress with beaded flaps for sleeves and a sheer, cropped back. Michael the knitter loves his dress. It is a silk kimono-sleeved tunic that wraps and fastens at the front with a bit of beadwork taken from the original garment. The back is very interesting, with the beadwork that was probably the bodice now forming the focus at the neckline and the kimono sleeves connect in a swoop of fabric. It’s very cool.

Droogie sends out his dress and the staples are falling out as the model walks. AJ has made a black dress with tulle and foil, a Hot Topics prom mini for the happy shiny little goth girl. And here comes Casanova’s thing. He thinks it looks prettier than when it was on his table. Again he asserts that it’s sexy, but not vulgar. Miz Shoes says these are not the words you seek. NinaGarcia is stunned speechless.

AJ, Andy, Valerie, Sarah, Peach, Kristin, Michael Designs for Burgers, Mondo Emo, Knitting Machine Michael, Christopher. You are all safe. They go backstage and have the giggles. One of you is the unanimous winner, and that would be Gretchen. NinaGarcia tells her her styling is perfect. She goes backstage and does the victory dance. No top three or bottom three, you’re all bottoms. None of you should feel safe. Ivy has to defend making pants out of pants. Michael Kors says “no offense to Peach, but I don’t know why she packed those.” Ooooh, SNAP! And he hates the blouse. The blouse looks “mumsy” says NinaGarcia. “Small town, hick outfit at the bar” says Selma Blair. Dudes, Peach kissed those pants when she gave them away. Respect the pant.

Jason tries to defend doing nothing. Looks like the cape at the hairdresser, says Heidi. Selma likes it, sort of. It’s sad, but she likes. NinaGarcia asks if he really thought they wouldn’t notice that he didn’t do anything. April defends her raw edges. The judges question if April even knows how to sew. Hot mess says Heidi. Michael likes deconstruction, but not this deconstruction. 80’s street walker says NinaGarcia. McKell and her blue bag skirt and huge hot pink purse. McKell says that it’s fun, flirty and good time. Styling, says NinaGarcia, is a train wreck. It’s a DISCO APRON!!!! (Hey, do you need to download more Project Runway Bingo Cards?) “Side cleavage is a rare thrilling moment for any woman,” says MKors. Heidi says that it is just flat out butt ugly. McKell says that she never designs looks like this. Nicholas explains the polyester bomber jacket origins. NinaGarcia likes the idea. But he didn’t take it far enough. His voice quavers.

Casanova. Mother of the bride belly dancer. Pole dancer in Dubai. Questionable in taste. Fascinatingly bad, says NinaGarcia. I loved it and I loathed it says Selma. Heidi asks Casanova to defend himself. NinaGarcia has to hablar espanol to him. He doesn’t get it in Spanish either. Ivy has been beaten down.

Ivy made pants out of pants and the judges ridicule her for it. MKors just can’t get past the original hideous garment and is dumbfounded that a real woman really bought them and actually loved them enough to bring them on the show. Ivy can sew, but does she have taste. Casanova can’t speak English. Taste level is scary. You couldn’t dream of wearing that in daylight. It came from a mall store named RazzleDazzles where they sell wigs and dresses. What was the car crash?? Casanova you are this season’s Crazy Person!!! Congratulations! Droogie Boy had all the fabric and didn’t use a sewing machine. They liked the styling. A lot of story to not much outfit. April was frazzled by the time constraints, but she’s got a modern point of view. McKell lives in a different world. They like her idea, but not the execution. The hair and accessories were terrible. Nicholas had a girl who could wear a bag, and there was nothing there. He sent out a boring dress, but he can make clothes.

April, we want to see more from you, you’re in. Nicholas, can you push yourself, given more time. He’s gonna cry. DroogieBoy, we are intrigued. Leave the runway. McKell, we were perplexed by your design and poor styling choices. Casanova your look was fascinatingly bizarre and we question your taste. Ivy, you made bad pants out of bad pants. McKell, you’re out. Take your blonde hippie girl dreadlocks and go home to your baby. Ivy, Casanova, you’re both getting another shot. Leave the runway. McKell shoots a look of death at Casanova and Ivy. Tim Gunn tells her that he stands by his judgement that her dress was cute, but it didn’t fit her model and the styling was unbelievably bad, so go clean up.

Atlas. Kristin says that there should be alcohol in the fridge. Ivy says she doesn’t sleep. Casanova is hugging an armload of hangers. Good night John Boy. Next week, it seems that there might be more than one person eliminated.

*Actually, Evernote WAS the bomb. I clipped web pages, photos and stuck them together with the draft of this article and did a quick cut and paste into my blog. Sweet.

**The blogosphere is in disagreement over the price of his pants, no doubt because his English is so awful. $1007? $1070? Whatever. They were over a grand and there was a seven in the mix somewhere.

Look, Miami/Dade government, this isn’t rocket fucking science. It isn’t like the MetroMover has never failed before and you have’t had to put buses on the street to take riders along the routes. And it is hurricane season, which increases the possibility that this service failure might actually take place. And you (and the high cost of gasoline) have done a great job of increasing ridership. So.

So why the ever loving fuck are you incapable of updating the public (hey! I have a radical idea! Use your freaking website!) on where the shuttle stations are and which routes they are servicing. I’m sorry. Is that so much to ask of my local government? Yeah, stupid question for a body that just voted to raise my property taxes by twelve fucking percent next year so that they can mow the street medians less often, repair the streets less often and cut hours of park and library services.

Yesterday, as readers of my Twitter feed are well aware, it took me forty minutes to go six blocks across town, because there was only one bus and it was servicing the Omni route. This meant I was treated to a tour of various halfway houses and homeless shelters (and in intimate proximity to their residents who were on the same bus, and frequently leaning into the same seat) during my 20 block detour north and then back south.

This morning, despite promises by the Miami Herald and the update on the MiamiDade.gov website, the MetroMover was NOT back in service, and there was just the one Omni bus again. Since we were going in the opposite direction, it only took me 15 minutes to get cross town. Tonight, as I left work, the government website informed me that the MetroMover will be out of service until further notice and to allow for longer travel times. Fair enough.

I crossed the street and took my place under the “emergency bus service for when the MetroMover is out of service” sign. And waited. And waited. I got on the first Omni loop bus, resigned to the ride from Hell, but was told, rudely I may add, that there were now two buses and that this wasn’t the one I wanted if I wanted to get to Government Center. I got off and waited some more. Another Omni bus. Two Aventura Mall buses.

Finally a random Transit Authority Person pulled up in a car. Huh, am I getting private car service, I wondered? No, he’s just there to tell me that I was standing in the wrong place for the Inner Loop bus. That bus stops on the other side of the street. In front of my office. Where there is neither a regular bus stop nor any indication that it is an emergency stop.

I am sweaty, pissed off and now at the end of my travel, waiting for the RLA to pick me up for a hot date with the Urgent Care Center to get my stitches out.

The RLA and I celebrated our 19th wedding anniversary on Wednesday. Yes, we wed on Bastille Day, but that’s another story for another day. The RLA gave me a wicked cool hand-made bamboo case for the iPad, a set of professional class ear buds and strict instructions to load some music on this thing. So I did.

Oh, gentle readers, I am forced to confess that for the inveterate music junkie that I am, I have never used anything more than cheap, but cool-looking ear buds on any of my music-playing I-devices. Holy shit! These things are awesome! I had some nitwit sitting next to me on the train yesterday, yapping away on her phone about random, and inane shit and once I popped these bad boys into my head, I couldn’t hear a fucking word!! Sweet!!!

Today, same thing. I can’t hear any of my fellow passengers, and I have pure, sweet, crystal clear rock and roll pouring in my head.

The only downside I can see is that the music is so loud, and so pure, that I feel like I’m all alone and tend to start singing (or at least humming and finger snapping) along. And that has to be as annoying to my fellow train riders as their mere existence is to me.

Miz Shoes ankle receives a two-inch gash. Damn, she thinks, this isn’t good. Perhaps she should take a quick drive over to the Urgent Care Center. But first, a little reality check. Honey? Do you think this will require stitches?

The RLA threw me in the car and asked if I had any preferences as to which UCC we visited. No, not particularly. Less than an hour later, I was laying on my side, having a pleasant conversation with the PA who was practicing her needlework on my ankle. She loved that it wasn’t a straight line and she got to do something or other fancy involving the triangular rip in the middle. She had a light touch with the Novocain or whatever it is that is used on body parts other than one’s mouth. So light, in fact, that by the time we got to the last stitch that what had been a slight prick and tug was a distinct piercing and pulling, prompting the following exchange.

“Motherfucker”, I said, in a totally conversation tone of voice, lacking all affect, “That hurts. I do believe the Novocaine has completely worn off.” Apparently, that was an unexpected remark, at least in that tone of voice, because both the PA and her aide laughed. They did apologize, but your narrator didn’t mind if they found humor in her suffering. After all, I said, you’ve given me enough content for a week of blog entries. 

Or, you know, my bandwidth. The RLA and I have been having excruciatingly slow download times at the Casita de Zapatos, and when researched, turns out to be poachers on our unlocked wi-fi network. This blows for me, because I hate passwords that are impossible to remember. But there it is. Intruders in the virtual house.

I spent a part of last night with the Number Three Surrogate Daughter. She turned 21 last week. She is emancipated and finally able to control her own choices. She is finishing her undergrad and wanting to get her Master’s? Her Doctorate? In psych. By joining the Navy as an officer/doctor. The Military will pay for the degree in exchange for six years of her life.

I love her dearly and want to be proud that she is capable of considering this choice. But I am afraid that I have become an old woman, set in her ways, and those ways were forged in the 60s. I was too young to have participated in the televised youth movement; I watched it on tv from my living room in a tiny, coastal sub-tropical town, so far removed and yet so far ahead of that movement that I can never vote Republican, nor embrace the concept of the military. I knew the last draftees and the first young men to die (in droves) of AIDS.

I know that this is my problem, and I have no right to try and pass them on to her. She’ll just be one of that tiny minority of good people who enlist for the more noble reasons. And I can be proud of that.

Part the first: this is an experiment to see how the iPad works as a mobile blogging device. If it works well then the chance exists that I’ll be able to do better with poor old Girlyshoes than once a month.

Part the second is a meditation on rock and roll. I had a conversation with someone from work the other day and she commented on my relationship with music, or at least with rock lyrics. She said that I quote them and read them like poetry, while admitting that they are poetry. I went home and thought about it for a while. Not poetry, scripture.

I often see people on the train reading dog-eared bibles, sprinkled through with underlines, highlighted passages and post-it notes. While this does not reflect well on me, I find myself mystified by this behavior. Having read the old testament, there is very little I would read over and over. And once you’ve grasped the concept of do unto others, or thou shall not, really, how many more times does one need to read it? But then I had an epiphany: scripture is scripture and it is a comfort and an affirmation. Those folks I see are doing no more than I am when I listen to “Badlands” for the hundredth or more time. For them, the words are, you know, something about the meek or whatever. For me, and other disciples of the Church of Rock and Roll, it’s the more immediate satisfaction of “I want to spit in the face of these badlands, let the broken hearts stand as the price you gotta pay.”

So last weekend, I spent a few hours at the laptop and created a short form proselytization for my co-worker. I had to include some variations, sort of like multiple translations of King James… Because there is the studio version of “Rosalita”, and then there are many, many, many versions of it live. She needs to hear the words, hence studio, but she also needed to feel the energy of the live version. With the intro of the band, during the heyday of the song, when it was the centerpiece of a concert? (Which is, by the way, what was playing when I saw the lights swinging from the rafters at Madison Square Garden, from the rhythmic stamping of feet of a full house.) Or without the intro, but with the happy shrieks of the crowd when they recognize the opening riff and it’s a rare treat during the encores?

Then there is the flip side of affirmation, those songs I go back to when I am so depressed that even killing myself would require more effort than I can manage. Those are the Leonard Cohen dirges, and Dylan’s “Desolation Row”. For the record, when I was a senior in college, “Desolation Row” was in constant rotation on my turntable. My shades were kept closed and the AC down low. My house plants never grew better.

I’m back on the Gulf coast, the part of it that is still pristine and unaffected by the colossal cluster fuck that is the Deepwater Horizon spill. The sunsets are gorgeous. The sand is powdery and white. The herons wander right up to you on the beach to see if you might possibly have a little fish or two. This place is bliss. The only complaint I have, such as it is, is that the wi-fi in the timeshare is the extreme opposite of robust, and the only place I have a chance of connecting is on the balcony overlooking the beach. Tough. Except that in the course of typing this entry, the connection has dropped three times.