Who goes there? Please leave comments so (An Aries Knows)!
In the Runway Monday challenge, the winner is announced right here. Hint: It wasn’t my design that won. But I’m fine with that. I enjoyed your comments and what the judges had to say. Plus I liked the other two designs. I’m glad I don’t have to vote. Thanks to the judges–“Miranda,” “Michelle,” and Mary, for their hard work, and to Marika for putting it all together. (What is this M theme?)
I’m looking forward to this week’s challenge. I had no idea this would be as much fun as it is.
In the first Project Runway challenge, the designers had to take their materials from a grocery store and use innovation and creativity in their designs. The Runway Monday designers
Everyone is encouraged to comment with snark or praise–your choice–and I will respond to all comments. The judges will make their decision on Marika’s journal sometime Monday. Thanks!
If you ever feel yourself tiring of Project Runway, my advice is buy yourself a Barbie doll and design for her according to the challenges. You watch the show in an entirely different way.
Hello, readers. I’m Mattel Top Model Summer, and I’ll be appearing on this LJ every Monday over the next few weeks. Maybe you’ve heard of the fashion reality show Project Runway, which begins its fifth season tonight (9/8 Central) on Bravo. With the help of Becky (or “Becks” as she’s frequently called, not to be confused with the Becks who married Posh Spice), I’ll be part of the LJ Runway challenge described in this announcement from LJ’s own Marika “Heidi Gunn” NOLA.
Becks will be my designer as we complete each week’s Project Runway challenge. You don’t have to watch Bravo’s show to enjoy Becks’s unequaled sense of fashion or what she calls my FEARLESS runway attitude. You can even be a celebrity judge one week (find out how to apply from Marika’s post, linked above).
Oh, there are some other designers, too–this guy and this guy, along with two additional Mattel Top Models. There’ve been rumors that you may see some of the workroom tensions and model drama on days other than Monday. That’s why the Clorox Wipes in the workroom are as big as the designers’ egos–things may get messy.
See you on Runway Mondays!
On July 12, 1817, Henry David Thoreau was born. While I suspect Thoreau the man might have been a bit dour, I find that I turn to him often for his intellectual brilliance. To fulfill a promise I made earlier today, and to honor Thoreau’s love of nature, I shot photos of a few characters enjoying the great outdoors.
Dear Mark G. Harris:
I understand you made disparaging comments about my wedding ensemble. My dear close personal friend, Fashion Expert Nina Garcia, suggested that I send you a few photos from my portfolio. She also wanted me to remind you that a fabulous new season of Project Runway begins Wednesday, July 16 at 9 p.m./8 central. That’s a new time, so don’t miss it!
In case you hadn’t heard, my dear close personal friend, Fashion Expert Nina Garcia, is no longer at Elle magazine! She begins her new job as fashion director at Marie Claire in September.
Ciao!
Summer
Mattel Top Model
People sometimes do strange things when they grieve. The stories I could tell–but I won’t, because I save the really juicy stuff about my friends for novels.
I think I’ve said on here before that I began adding Barbies to my collection after my friend Steve R died in 1992. It made perfect sense–I even KNEW what I was doing and why I was doing it. When politics and faith and hate and love and injustice and death all collide, and you lose the last shred of your innocence, it’s not so crazy to start spending your money on something that harks back to a simpler, better, less complicated time–and Barbies were a perfect symbol of that for me. A few years and a few losses later, grief finally loosened its grip on me, and the Barbie-buying compulsion stopped just as suddenly as it began.
I’m grieving now, but I’m aware of other friends who are grieving (you know who you are; call me when you’re ready), including Lynne. Monday marked the second anniversary of her husband’s death, and I’ve always contended that seconds are harder than firsts. We mentally prepare ourselves for firsts. We know they’re coming long before they get here, and we’re probably still a little numb. By seconds, we’ve stopped constantly guarding ourselves against the shocks and jolts of memory–so when those anniversaries come, not only are our defenses down, but we’re back in full-on feeling mode. Hopefully, if we’ve allowed ourselves to grieve, and we’ve channeled some of our grief into positive outlets, thirds are not as sharply felt–that doesn’t mean the sense of loss isn’t still there, but it’s not as cruel to our emotional systems three years later. As the years go by, time softens our memories, taking the edge off the painful ones and shining more light on the happier ones. This is all part of healing.
Some people actually say grief is about a two- to four-week process. I think these people may be alien life forms, but that’s not the point of this discussion. I’m not big on judging how and for how long people grieve. We do what we need to do. In my own life, I’ve found that when I emerge from my first haze of stunned loss and start feeling things more intensely, I feel ALL things more intensely. If I’m prone to cry more, I’m also inclined to laugh more. The lines between mourning and celebrating become blurred. Fortunately, although my friends are as diverse a group as I can imagine, they all have one thing in common: a sense of humor. Laughter is one of the best healing forces of all.
After Lynne took me to Mark’s on Monday night (which seems backward, as most people would have treated her; just call us rogue mourners), when I said, “I need to go Barbie shopping,” I caught her raised eyebrow and added, “No, no. It’s not like before. I want them for a wedding photo shoot, and I’ve already got plans for all the other bride-and-groom dolls I’ve shot.” Then she said, “Well, at least you’ve already had your kitchen remodeled,” and we both started giggling. That was her big pricey project after Craig’s death–though I contend that putting money into updating a home is a more sensible reaction to loss than, for example, buying a 1970ish Datsun 240z. Not that I’m saying anyone did that.
Behind the cut you can see a bit of our Monday night in photos.
It’s Pride Month, that time of year when I try to avoid blogs that bemoan the inclusiveness of Pride parades because the media tends to focus on the “outrageous,” even though the media does that during any event, happy or sad.
I, personally, celebrate it all: the leather men, the drag queens, the boys with their glitter-dusted bodies in square cuts, the politicians, the church floats, PFLAG, the AIDS organizations, the sponsors tossing freebies to advertise their products, the bands, the cheerleaders, the dykes on bikes, the cops on horseback, the transgendered, even the spectators who drink too much and trash the streets and block my view or snatch my beads out of the air in front of me. Houston’s parade will be this weekend, and because of my annoying back, I’m already fretting over the logistics of getting there and figuring out how to sit and manage to see and photograph everything.
In honor of the month, let’s check out some handsome men visiting an art gallery.
I’d kill right now for a Little Debbie Swiss Cake Roll. Or even a Nutty Bar. What’s your favorite Little Debbie snack?
Tonight, Lynne came over for a while. She, Tim, Tom, and I played cards. I lost both games, despite winning the final hand in the second game. I’m pretty sure they all cheated.
Before Lynne came over, she went to see a production of Beauty and the Beast. Which made me realize that it’s time to indulge you once again with some costumery.