Thursday, August 21, 2008
Dragalicious: The Project Runway Recap
How can it be that we are in the 6th episode of the fifth season of Project Runway and this is the first damn time we’ve had a drag queen challenge? I’m not sure I want to live in a world where Brooke Shields gets to be a judge before Ru Paul.
Better late than never, I suppose.
In they marched (or should I say Marched. . . last season’s teddy bear Chris March was there, too, in some sort of Ride of the Valkyries extravaganza)—with names like Hedda Lettuce and Sharon Needles and Annida Greenkard, as Heidi Klum eyed her competition suspiciously.
“She does have a nice set of legs,” Heidi acknowledged tersely of a 7-foot pitcher of water named Sherry Vine.
“I’ve been waiting for this challenge!” enthused Terri, like it was some sort of annual occurrence.
First up, a consultation with their clients followed by a trip to Mood, where each designer bought enough fabric to outfit the entire cast of Dream Girls.
Stella, who had at first faced this challenge with her usual gloom with a soupcon of misery (“this is a real tough one”), was changing her tune. “I like . . .” she began. “LEATHAH!” screamed back the entire viewing population of Project Runway, their cocktails poised at their lips. “Slick,” Stella finished. Wow. What a letdown.
Back at the studio, Blayne was annoying everyone with his licious-based Tourette’s.
“I’m annoyed-licious,” said Keith. Hey, that Mormon has a sense of humor.
And Suede’s dearly departed grandfather was possibly a drag queen—or a farmer, hard to say—because he came to Suede in a vision and told him to scatter lettuce seeds all over Hedda’s garment. Nice advice, gramplicious.
A few minutes later, a bunch of men from Bravo accounts payable visited the studio—wait!?! Those are the drag queens? Geez, I mean, I knew that drag queens weren’t in costume 24/7, but I thought they’d be a little more fabulous than this. Undercover, I guess.
I knew that Hedda Lettuce was going to be trouble. She was giving Suede a whole salad’s worth of grief about his outfit, even suggesting that the long gloves meant Suede was too lazy for sleeves. Snap.
Later, Suede commiserated with Tim Gunn who sassily advised: “Tell her you’ve been to a different rodeo!” God, I have no idea what that means, but wiser words have never been spoken.
Onto the most hilarious and awesome runway of all time, with the aforementioned Ru Paul as judge. Suffice it to say, these queens put the regular crew of walking stick figures to shame.
I have to give credit where credit is due: I may have no love for Joe but I did love his winning Ann Margaret on the Love Boat jumpsuit. The fact that he put a nautical little belt over Varla Jean Merman’s bidness was just so. . .magical.
(Yes, the irony was not lost on me that the only straight man in the competition won the drag challenge.)
Despite Joe’s big win, my top two have not changed: Korto and Terri both worked it out. In particular, Korto really broke out of her comfort zone with the sculptural sequined cocktail dress and detachable skirt she designed for Sweetie. Terri kept her winning ways going with her kabuki-meets-the-catwalk number.
But onto the bottom.
Jerrel had a “good bar mitzvah moment” (but a bad drag moment) with his proportionally off and kinda sickly-looking cocktail dress.
Oy, Keith . . . again with the swatches? Must everyone of your outfits look like some variation of a drowned mallard? Not good.
And Daniel, Daniel, Daniel. . . you didn’t use sequins because they’re too “gaudy”? You’re designing for a drag queen, for Christ’s sake. It’s supposed to be gaudy! Oh well, I guess you can lead a boy to the trailer park, but you can’t make him buy a Pink Flamingo.
Jerrel was declared safe, which meant the Bottom Two was Keith and Daniel.
Now I understand that a lot of gay men have taken a shining to Keith, who does absolutely nothing for me. Seriously, that overly buff, bandana-as-headband look is so over. Now Daniel on the other hand—with his little boy pout and his artfully askew ties—well, my love for him knows no limits.
So we had a moment. Beefcake pinup vs. 98-pound-weakling pinup. The entire female and gay male population held its collective breath.
And Daniel is . . . out.
Wesley, you lucky bastard.