Now I Wanna Be Your Dog

I don’t have a recapper’s ensemble to share with you this week because Los Angeles is in the middle of a brutal heat wave and I’m so ecologically conscious that I don’t have air conditioning. This equals me writing in my underwear. The same ones I told you about last week. If you’re dying to know what they are go back and read that recap.

I didn’t ditch my weekly fashion opinions though. Thoughts don’t make me sweat any more than I already do. Here’s what I like this week:

1. We Are The Superlative Conspiracy. It’s a label. Awesome basics. It’s American Apparel-ish without the sexual harassment. They got stores in big cities. Most of their stuff doesn’t fit me. But I’m going to lobby for fat sizes.

2. Dutch designer Frank Tjepkema made a medallion out of a zillion corporate logos. It’s called the “Bling Bling” and it’s incredible. Now you can see it and buy it at www.tjep.com.

3. I dig Lily Pulitzer. Everyone who wears it is happy and has money falling out of their pockets. If you follow them you can just scoop it up off the ground. Then you go buy your own Lily Pulitzer outfit and keep the wealth flowing.

The commercial for this episode, the commercial that’s running right before it reminding you to watch, has the line “Who will be Auf’d next?” I like that.

This week I watch with a group. Of gays. Loud gays. Loud gays eating cupcakes. Loud gays who support me for breaking up with Jeffrey Christ. But who don’t still have the love for his freaked-out clothes. I’m alone in that love. And it has nothing to do with his neck. They also hate Corky (Vincent) for me too. One of them calls him “Jeff Conaway,” which is mean to poor Jeff Conaway, whose only crime was not following through on his Grease heat.

The show begins and everyone is waking up to another glorious Atlas New York morning. Kayne The Flaming Lisp is seen perfecting his Playgirl centerfold pose. It’s demure, though, sheet pulled up over his nipples like Sarah Jessica Parker always did on Sex and the City.

Next thing you see is Heidi in a very excellent plaid blouse hinting at what their next challenge will be: designing an outfit around one of fashion’s hottest accessories. So it’s either going to be baby clothes, jewelry to accentuate a smug, satisfied sneer or a tiny outfit for your finger as it goes down your throat.

One more model gets shown the door in what continues to be Runway’s least compelling other competition, the not-very-exciting model race to the finish. Seriously, these are women who are already employed. Getting out of wearing some piece of crap on national television doesn’t seem like punishment to me. When Malan’s model—who didn’t even walk last week—gets booted she barely seems to care. It’s like, “Yeah, whatever, my agency’s got me booked for tomorrow already anyway.”So va-va-voom-walker Katia stays put. At least she gets to wear Kayne’s not-awful clothes as reward.

Michael Knight With No Talking Car is talking. But here’s the problem with that. They’ve not given him any personality yet. Or maybe he doesn’t have one. It’s still too early to know. But for now every not-interesting word he does say just evaporates as soon as it leaves his mouth. Maybe it’s a trick you learn when you grow up in the ATL.

And now—thanks editors!—it’s already the next morning. We’re all waking up again in our beautiful Atlas New York suites, having spent yesterday waiting around for Heidi, I guess. They’ve been given directions to Central Park. Laura Glamour Mom goes full-tilt Murder, She Wrote and says, “It’s horses.” The accessory, fashion’s hottest accessory, is the horse. Of course—of course it is, Laura. Why simply everyone is horseback riding these days. You can’t walk outside your apartment door without stepping in their dung. In fact, I keep my horse inside my apartment.

They file out of Atlas and who’s wearing riding pants and jodhpurs? Laura. She just happened to have those in her suitcase. You never know when spontaneous equestrian frolicking will spring itself upon you. A woman needs to be prepared. And she is.

In Central Park they meet Tim Gunn, who’s attached to multiple leashes, each one bearing a tiny little dog. So settle in and get ready for an hour of adorable little doggies doing those cocked-head reaction shots. And you’d think that Tim walked over the knoll with 13 fire-breathing monsters of the apocalypse for the reaction quotes it inspires in the designers:

Kayne The Flaming Lisp: “I was just like ‘Oh my God, am I watching this?’”

Jeffrey Christ: “It was unbelievable to see Tim with all those dogs!”

Holy shit, it’s dogs! Everyone go nuts! Dogs! Can you EVEN BELIEVE IT?! IT’S DOGS!!

Everyone has to pick a dog to work with. Laura makes a face. She hates dogs. She already has five filthy children at home. She doesn’t want a dog. I can respect that. And I also think she wishes that Misty of Chincoteague is still waiting for her somewhere over that knoll. She wore her jodhpurs for nothing and now she’s mad.

I have to interrupt this right now to talk about how fashion cannibalizes itself. Jean-Paul Gaultier already did the dressing up women like dogs thing early this year when the fall collections showed. Just wanted to say that Project Runway didn’t invent this. Go look it up.

Uli, Heidi’s German Pet, picks up a pug. She’s going to lose this challenge because pugs are very 2004. I know this to be a fact; Keith Michael Who Is Such A Pain That Tim Gunn Is No Longer Going to Fight Michael Kors Over Him And Besides Michael Kors is Missing Again Anyway picks a dog, breed unknown to me, that looks skinny and stuck up. Like Keith Michael; Alison Supernicesupercute is so super nice and super cute that she willingly trades dogs with Bradley, taking his poodle in return for a scruffy little mutt that looks exactly like Bradley; and Laura takes the Mr. Winkle-ish dog because no one else wanted it. She puts it in a bag so she won’t have to touch it. I would do the same thing. Dogs eat their own poop. You want that kissing you on the lips?