Uber Fierce! The Project Runway recap

I am about to write a phrase that I never imagined would pass my keyboard: Thank you, Posh Spice.

Look, I’m not sure if it was really Posh who sealed the deal for Christian. I’m not sure if she beat Michael Kors in a stare-off, bored Heidi Klum into submission, overtook Nina Garcia with the mighty power of her complete and utter lack of personality, but say what you will about our little haute automaton, she was on Team Christian. In a big, unwavering, I am Posh Spice and “I’ll tell you what I want, what I really, really want” kind of way.

Bless her.

Because, as Rami and Christian were standing there, the final two that many of us had predicted (until I had a brief, spazzy Jillian digression), I thought, Christian HAS to win.

For starters, with apologies to wind sprite Eliza, punk confection Sweet Pea, lachrymose Ricky, drape king Rami, and jolly Chris March, Christian really made this season didn’t he? His part petulant teenager, part late night talk show host, part Ferocha Couture, and 100 percent bundle of talent, was a God damned joy to watch.
And to see him standing there crying, to realize that with all the attitude, all the confidence, all the bratty superiority—Christian really cared—well, it’s safe to say I would’ve stormed the gates of Bravo TV if he had not won.

I should backtrack and say this: That was one hell of a Bryant Park show, wasn't it? I mean, the best of any Project Runway season, by far. All three designers were off the chart great. It was enough to make Tim Gunn verklempt—and partake in a very undignified group hug—and who could blame him? Rami’s intricately woven dresses, Jillian’s Renaissance prep knitwear, and Christian’s avant-garde extravaganzas—all remarkable.

But in the end, our little whippersnapper had to win. Yeesh, imagine how boring this finale would’ve been without him? What, no surprise last-minute challenge? No bringing back the auf’d designers to assist? No internecine feuds? Instead, we got treated to the L’Oreal makeup consultation—thrilling!—followed by the TresEmme hair consultation—stunning!—followed by Jillian having a mild freakout because her models weren’t all the same height—mind blowing!

Luckily, we at least had little Christian showing his models how easy it was to OWN those high-heel ankle lace-ups, Christian telling his models to “look really fabulous, be really skinny, don’t eat” (a Project Runway motto, if ever I’ve heard one), and Christian actually rubbing off on Rami, who gave his first, tentative, “Are we ready, bitches?” of the season.

Once at Bryant Park, it was great to finally see Christian’s family—so cute, so vertically challenged, and his dad such a natty dresser! And of course, all of our Bravo reality favorites—Padma from Top Chef, Niki and Tyson from Make Me a Supermodel, and various beloved contestants from Project Runway past (squee! Nick!!!). (Somewhere, those Queer Eye boys were standing at the gate, trying to get in. How soon Bravo forgets . . .)

And by the way, what was up with Michael Kors wearing sunglasses in the tent? I mean, I understand the whole, I’m a celebrity, I’m cool, I’m wearing sunglasses thing. But you’re not Jack Nicholson, dude. You’re judging a competition where subtle things like color and texture actually matter. Leave the divatude at the door next time, m’kay? (Or do you think he actually got into some sort of skirmish in the tanning aisle at Rite Aid and was covering a black eye?—ooooh, discuss among yourselves).

It was great to hear the Bryant Park audience applaud for the contestants (although at one point, I wasn’t sure if they were cheering Rami’s dress or the fact that Jaslene from America’s Next Top Model was wearing it). They clearly loved and appreciated all the designers, but Christian was the obvious favorite. Okay, I still don’t entirely get his collection—in particular, the “ombre dress” he designed with Posh Spice in mind looks like the end result of a some sort of horrible frat boy hazing—but he’s obviously a little couture genius.

In the end, Rami WAS the Salieri to Christian’s Amadeus. A dignified man who was good, not great, going up against a twerpy, preternaturally gifted visionary.

So Rock me, Amadeus! You are, indeed, as fierce as it gets.


p.s. To all my fellow America’s Next Top Model fans, recaps start up next week. But I will say this: Dying both Claire and Whitney’s hair blonde was a crime against them—and nature.