Walking The ‘Runway’: Cheaty von Cheaterstein (August 10, 2006)

After Keith (aka Cheaty von Cheaterstein) was axed last week in a nail-biting mid-episode boot-off, it was hard to imagine how “Project Runway” would keep up the drama. This week though, as Heidi presented the challenge, it became clear that tonight’s theme would be “lunatics taking over the asylum”. Heidi explained that the models would be selecting the designer THEY would like to prance down the runway for, rather than the usual slave auction of glamazons in black chemises being chosen or sent down. It was a bit like watching kids pick which parent they want to live with after the divorce, and reminded us all of an important maxim: be kind to those that work for you (or who sport your couture).

Then Frau Klum dropped bomb number two by announcing that the challenge (“modernizing a fashion icon”) would also be in the hands of the models – the mannequins, not the designers, would select which fashion icon would be paired with which designer. The girls, herded into the workroom by the unflappable Tim Gunn, went berserk on cue, tearing into the pile of photos like they were going after a Twinkie – throwing ‘bows, a long-limbed free-for-all. Eileen Ford would have had fits at their unladylike behavior. However, it was probably a smart move; if they’d let the designers wrestle it out, Jeffrey and Angela would still be on the floor beating on one another. (PS – Mr. Tattooed Neck Makes Me Edgy needs to stop being a crybaby…if you want to win a challenge, then design something the judges like!) Then the designers were let in to see whom their model had selected for them.

Season Three’s Girl to Pick On, Angela, scored the ultimate fashion icon, Audrey Hepburn. Immediately, visions of the doe-eyed ?50s swan drowning into Angela’s signature rosettes began to swim before my eyes, and I thought I might lose my Breakfast at Tiffany?s. Severely tailored, classically garbed Laura was paired with severely tailored, classically garbed Katharine Hepburn, whose style could probably come straight from the occasionally prissy, schoolmarmy Laura’s own closet. Southern glamour boy Kayne could hardly contain his squeals at his icon, Marilyn Monroe. Cher, Jackie O, Diana Ross – the “fashion icons” kept coming like a drag queen revue. Poor Alison, the dreamy-voiced blond who looks like she rode her surfboard to the workroom, seemed a little dazed by her model’s choice, but then again she wasn’t even born yet when Farrah Fawcett-Majors showed all those teeth and flaunted her flip. Bradley, the scruffy boy who is either a charming hippie or was dropped on his head a lot as a baby, didn’t seem to know what to do with his choice either – Cher. But then again, Cher hardly seems to know what to do with Cher, sometimes. Michael took to his icon (“aww yea….Pam mother expletive Grier”) like a duck to water, and this was really the first episode where we got to see him as something other than Laura’s object of desire. He played peacekeeper between Jeffrey and everyone else in the squabbly sewing room, introduced us to the instant buzzphrase of “Captain Save A Ho”, made a sweet call to his mommy to boost his confidence, and showed his chops by remaking his entire garment at the eleventh hour.

Tonight’s tension felt at times a little forced. It’s too easy to blame Angela for breaking the sewing machines (although it does seem strange that every time she uses a machine, it craps out). But the pig-piling gets a little old. Girl won a challenge, so she can’t be that bad. You could almost hear the Bravo producers trying to stir up fights. Kayne’s irritation at his chatty-Cathy model provided some much-needed levity, although I thought he might cut her when she told him one of his seams looked “sloppy”. At halftime, Tim Gunn strode around the workroom, offering much-needed critiquing to all the designers. Sometimes he can’t save them from themselves, and tonight’s non-listener was Robert. The Barbie designer started the competition strong but has been stumbling the last few weeks, and tonight was a great opportunity for him to save himself – a delicious ?70s shot of a glammy Jackie O was his template. For some reason, tanorexic Robert decided to rock his inspiration backwards instead of forward, and took on an early ?60s Oleg Cassini-esque tailored suit – in beige linen, no less. Tim’s frown has rarely been chillier.

On a side note, I had my weekly fantasy that Tim Gunn would stop by my desk and comment on my progress on a daily basis – I’m sure it would make me a much more effective employee. By the same token, none of us would be late ever again if we had the Tresemme Hair Salon, the L’Oreal Paris Makeup room, and the Macy’s Accessories wall available to us.

But I digress. Finally we come to the adrenaline-soaked moment that’s like delivery day at the crack house – the runway show. By now, my already palpitating heart kicks into overdrive; I can barely sit still through Heidi’s mind-numbing repetition of the contest rules and bylaws, although it?s refreshing to notice she’s actually doing more of her readings on camera, as opposed to the off-camera voiceovers that dominated the first two seasons and caused me to doubt her ability to memorize four words. Another reason to be thankful was the return of Michael Kors for the judging. Vera Wang, whilst an extremely talented bridal gown designer, simply was not cutting it in the commentary department, and NinaGarciaFashionEditorofElleMagazine had her hands full carrying all the bitchery solo. Likewise, Diane Von Furstenberg, as a repeat guest judge, brought just the right laconic, laissez-faire cool to the proceedings. She looks like she can barely keep her eyes open, but she’s a lot more credible than say, Ivanka Trump. It was also kind of her to point out to Vincent that “Twiggy is still alive” after he kept referring to her in the past tense. Oops.

And here come the girls, who walk the runway as seriously as Fashion Week in Milan, instead of in front of a handful of people on a soundstage. Still, it can make or break an outfit, depending on how the girl wears it; Michael’s halter-and-hot-pants combo would not have looked right on any other model but his Afro’d goddess. Conversely, Kayne’s dress gave model Amanda this weird goiter on her hip but the judges love him, and sure enough, it was overlooked. Vincent’s poorly conceived plaid-and-black “Twiggy” dress (he was talking some smack about bell sleeves and high armholes early on) ended up looking more Buffy from “Family Affair”, and his model’s very face was an apology.

At the end of the day, after all his unshowy diligence, Michael was rewarded with an inarguable win (btw, getting props from DVF on your hot pants is like Michael Jordan telling you that you’ve got a good foul shot). And it was auf weidersehn to our own Shaggy – bumbling bearded Bradley, whose horrifying silver halter with green triangular appliqués, and ill-fitting white pants inexplicably trimmed with tzitzis, was scorned by Heidi as “unworthy of your icon” (ouch). Gone before he could explain last week’s rant about being “an eagle without a sky”. He’ll be missed.

– Joe Ricciardi