I'm Out

I’ll admit it: I was a Project Runway virgin.

I was always wholeheartedly committed to America’s Next Top Model, and for some reason, I just didn’t feel like I had it in me to be faithful to both shows. (Possibly my self-esteem can only take one hour a week of watching 90 pound waifs traipse down the runway, voluminous hair flying...) However, after what seems like 19 seasons of watching Tyra become progressively crazy – the voices, the dances, the overall kitsch – and not to mention the fact that the “models” seemed to be chosen based on the likelihood of them having an on-air breakdown culminating with the admission of an abusive parent, an eating disorder, or lack of a serious boyfriend, I knew I had to make a change.

And so, my conversion to Project Runway was underway.

We are now about half way through the season, and I have made a major discovery about myself. Brace yourselves, friends, for this bombshell.

I know nothing about fashion.

Whew. It feels good to put that out there. This is how I know that I know nothing about fashion. Every time I watch a “garment” (okay, I know the proper terminology, yay!) go down the runway, and I think to myself, “Wow, how cute is that? Love it”, that will invariably be the look that gets slammed by Michael and Heidi and all their friends, and that designer will go home. EVERY TIME, PEOPLE. And when I see another garment and go, “Ewwww”, that will absolutely be the winner. I could lay bets on it at this point.

But what can be done? At this point, I think I’m a lost cause. So I guess I’ll stick with my
J Crew/Banana Republic/Ann Taylor Loft with some Target mixed-in wardrobe. And I’ll like it.

P.S. I do believe I am correct about one fashion-related piece. See below.

Tim Gunn: Don’t even get me started on leggings.

Emily D’Andrea: Word.