It’s Raining Men. Drownings Occur

My usual watching gang of Some Gays, Some Ladies, and Some Cupcakes didn’t happen for this week’s recap. Neither did my husband/partner/whatever’s family because they stayed behind in Atlanta while we returned home to Los Angeles. So I watched at home late on a Wednesday night, way past my usual 9 p.m. bedtime, with the husband/partner/whatever and friend/housemate Aaron. This is fine with me. It lets me rewind the TiVo when I need to. I like to drive the car, you know?

Anyway, before the recap of the episode begins, I have to share my personal fashion interests of the week. Why does no one speak of “Fundies” anymore -- you know, the two-person underwear with room for four legs and two butts? You’d think with the '80s still sort of full-on happening out there that the kids would be all over new ways to employ Fundies into their style vocabulary. But I never hear about them. Come back, Fundies. You were cooler than your decade of origin.

And because this week’s challenge is going to be about menswear, I’ll talk about 3.1 Philip Lim. I know, it’d be kind of awesome if 3.1 were his actual first name, but that’s just the name of the label. It’s the kind of simple-with-very-cool-details stuff that I’d wear if I were a tiny little rich person instead of a lumbering goon with none of that mythical extra-piles-of-homosexual-cash lying around my apartment. You may think I’m being hard on myself with the words “lumbering goon,” but I’m not. I know and accept myself as I am. Also, I have confirmation. A friend of mine is shooting his own indie film and approached me yesterday about possibly-maybe being in it as either “a mover” or “a psychotic murderer.” Yes, I said yes. Anyway, I like 3.1 Philip Lim, someone whose clothes on a gang of models at a runway show resemble, in the words of a Style.com review I read once, “a crowd of chic strangers at an airport.”

And now to Elyse, the real-life model I introduced to you in the last recap -- first season America’s Next Top Model second runner-up and all-around smart, funny and good person -- and her pronouncement of the week:

“Jeans are not cool right now. I know it's hard, but you're just going to have to find something else. I'm wearing head-to-toe pink right now: trousers, sweater, and shoes.”

And even though I refuse to abandon my usual uniform of Levi’s shrink-to-fit, button-fly 501’s and T-shirt, I agree. Because she’s not talking about me. She’s talking about the rest of you people. Go do what she says. Change your clothes.

OK, on to the episode:

Opening shoots past again. There’s Chris in the still-barfy leopard print shirt. Next up is Christian, who announces, “Hell yes, I’m the best!” This may well be true, but it’s always a little better for you, for your long-term sense of self-esteem, if you keep it innocuous with sound bites like, “I can sew!” rather than face the humiliation of being voted off, say, first, then having your holographic self shouting, “I shall destroy all the others and emerge victorious, their bleeding decapitated heads hoisted on sticks above Anna Wintour’s howling, wolf-like, and super-hungry jaws!” Just a tip, there, Christian.

And we’re already pausing the TiVo to discuss two PR things:

1. Who is the most successful PR alumnus. Besides Malan, of course, who wins at life in general and probably will be the person who, in the end times, when it’s going to matter most, will get to say that thing about bleeding, decapitated heads and Anna Wintour. The three of us watching decide that it’s probably Kara Saun. Even though she’s kind of dull. Not that that quality ever hurt Michael Kors’s career.

2. Yes, we all saw Jack naked online this week. I forget who, maybe Defamer—beautiful, beautiful Defamer—posted a link with arty-but-still-full-of-soft-demure-dong shots of Jack. We all decided that Jack, naked, is actually more dull than Kara Saun. Muscles are over, gays. Seriously, this is true. The new thing is bellies. I’m way ahead of the curve on that one.

Back to the show, which begins with the sun rising over Manhattan and a gratuitous shot of Jack in a towel and Kevin in his boxer briefs, both of them primping in front of the mirror. Kevin’s got plumber butt crack happening because his drawers are not pulled up enough. And see, this is where some Fundies could come in handy, in a spontaneous bit of male bonding between homo Jack and hetero-but-still-somewhat-faggy Kevin.

Next we see Jack sitting on his bed with -- I tried to count with the TiVo paused -- about 13 bottles of medicine next to him. He says he’s been HIV+ for 17 years. Then we see him use an inhaler. We pause the TiVo again. Does he have asthma too? Is there a thing that blows anti-AIDS air into your body now? If this were my show I’d stop and get him to explain what’s in each plastic bottle. That would slow things down maybe, lose viewers and result in ultimate cancellation, but those facts don't lessen my curiosity. I see the HIV meds ads in all the gay mags, and every single one of them is some young, adorably scruffy guy striding down an urban street, everywhere to go, every guy to date, openmouthed-smile, saying, “I take one pill and then I bounce!” So yeah, I want to know what’s what.

Some of the guys are talking about Marion’s elimination. Chris, clearly baiting, says, “Why didn’t they just get rid of Christian? Nobody would have cried.” Christian appears in the doorway with a mock-outraged face, declaring universal boredom if he gets eliminated. This, much like, “Hell yes, I'm the best,” is probably true. Aaron on the couch says, “I’ve just decided that Christian is all three members of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs distilled into one person.” Finally, Christian’s visual presentation explained in a correct manner.