Who goes there? Please leave comments so (An Aries Knows)!
If you’re not afraid to go near the water, the judging snark for LJ Runway Monday has begun right here with the sharp-tongued Miranda Priestly.
And I’m not allowed to defend my design because I’m BACK STAGE watching Timothy stretch and Mark mysteriously vanish.
Somewhere, my mother is smiling that smug smile that ONLY mothers can smile with such maddening motherness.
When I was growing up, my mother whipped up curtains, throw pillows, dresses for Debby and me, skirts and dresses for herself, and yep, even Barbie clothes, on this old brown Singer sewing machine. At some point when her children were gone and she had more disposable income, she bought herself a new machine. My sister was not allowed near anything that plugged in–she was the Grim Reaper to small appliances–and even though I’d been banned from the Singer for breaking too many needles sewing shit on my blue jeans in high school, she gave me the sewing machine.
I hauled that thing around through college and graduate school, never using it, and at some point, I donated it to Goodwill. I didn’t realize that it was one in a long line of what we call “Mother Gifts”: that is, she gave them to us, but still considered them hers. When she found out the machine was gone, she was aghast:
You gave away MY sewing machine?
Well, no, it was MY machine. You gave it to me.
Not to give away! I’d have taken it back. That was the best machine I ever owned.
Who knew?
I don’t sew, so recently, when we emptied her apartment, I wasn’t inclined to hold on to her latest sewing machine, even though Tom and I had it reconditioned and repaired for her at Christmas year before last. I asked Tim if he wanted it, and he declined, so off it went to a consignment shop, where it sold immediately.
Now there’s nothing that we could use more than a freaking sewing machine.
Mother: 2
Becky: 0
Louisiana in September was like an obscene phone call from nature. The air–moist, sultry, secretive, and far from fresh–felt as if it were being exhaled into one’s face. Sometimes it even sounded like heavy breathing. Honeysuckle, swamp flowers, magnolia, and the mystery smell of the river scented the atmosphere, amplifying the intrusion of organic sleaze. It was aphrodisiac and repressive, soft and violent at the same time. In New Orleans, in the French Quarter, miles from the barking lungs of alligators, the air maintained this quality of breath, although here it acquired a tinge of metallic halitosis, due to fumes expelled by tourist buses, trucks delivering Dixie beer, and, on Decatur Street, a mass-transit motor coach named Desire.
It’s a party!
While in New Orleans for a Vanity Fair shoot, Summer was invited to a party taking place next month at the Queen Anne Ballroom in the city’s Hotel Monteleone, famous for its literary associations. Rumor has it that an editor from a New York publishing house will also be there. Summer’s been working on a behind-the-scenes tell-all about the models of LJ Runway Monday, but she knows everybody corners editors at parties with their book ideas.
“I need to lure him to me,” she explained when she called her favorite designer, Becks. “Then ensnare him!”
“You sound like a spider,” Becks said, but agreed to meet Summer near Jackson Square to discuss design ideas. While walking to the Café Du Monde for a beignet and café au lait (Becks) and bottled water (Summer), Becks saw this sign.
Photo copyright JennAn idea was born. And as an editor might say, “Then what happened?”
My fingers are mutilated by needles and EZ hates me because I keep shrieking with the pain of it all. Meanwhile, upstairs I’ve heard that Jack is dead, Rose is old, Julia Roberts just rescued Richard Gere right back, and Tom Hanks is about to make friends with a volleyball named Wilson.
I could have been draped across the couch watching movies all day!
Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?
Summer and I won the second week’s challenge of LJ Runway Monday! I’d like to thank judges Michelle Hors, Miranda Priestly, and TJBTimmy, boss-of-us Heidi Gunn, the other designers, Mattel Top Model Figarunt for behaving so badly, Mattel Top Model Nikki for breaking her hip, and all the people who read and commented.
I’m that much closer to the $100,000!
What? There’s no money involved?
Dang.
Figaro models Mark G. Harris‘s design.
Nikki models Timothy J. Lambert‘s design.
In our other lives, we are all writers.
You can read what the judges had to say right here.
This week on Bravo, the Project Runway designers were challenged to design a cocktail dress with their models as their clients. Their task was to use green textiles; that is, textiles that are environmentally responsible: no synthetics, no poisonous dyes and that, when appropriate, were organically-grown. The other part of the challenge was that the models, not the designers, went to Mood to pick out the fabrics. EEK!
If you think the PR designers were a little freaked, imagine the reactions of the Runway Monday designers, Mark G. Harris, Teej, and me–our models are made of PLASTIC. What do they know about green?
My fears seemed justified when Summer presented me with:
dark green satin and a bundle of raffia ribbon. RAFFIA?
I could have thrown the raffia in the trash, but since Summer picked it and I was designing for her, I simply considered it another part of my challenge. I envisioned her attending a Manhattan cocktail party hosted by Al “King of Green” Gore and his wife, Tipper, to honor several dignitaries from Madagascar, the Philippines, Cameroon, and Nigeria, where the raffia palm grows and is an important part of the countries’ cultures.
When Summer mentioned Grace Kelly as one of her fashion icons, I knew immediately how I wanted to dress her. Her instinct about fabric color that would contrast with yet complement her hair and skin was good. My design evokes 1940s understated glamor with its scooped neck, cap sleeves, and peplum waist over a three-paneled pencil skirt. Using the organic raffia ribbon–with a little drama in the back–to cinch the waist and to accent Summer’s shoes brings the design a twenty-first century global sensibility.
This week’s photos for Runway Monday will be posted sometime after midnight. Y’all ready for an outtake?
Overheard in the workroom:
Summer: Satin is my favorite fabric.
Becks: Satin’s not a fabric, it’s a weave.
Summer: Like Figaro’s hair?
Becks: You could weave Figaro’s hair into satin. You can also weave satin from silk or wool–
Summer: No wool. Wool makes me itch. That’s not wool satin, is it? I’ll start scratching on the runway.
Becks: (eyeshift) So what do you want in a design?
Summer: Elegance. Sophistication.
Becks: Who do those words call to mind? Who did you think of when you picked these fabrics?
Summer: Grace Kelly. I love Grace Kelly.
Becks: (mutters) Because raffia just screams Grace Kelly…
I’m concerned.
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.