Project Runway One: Bikini Orgy Under a Moon Doggie Sky

A bunch of us are watching reruns of Project Runway One with the Project Rungay Guys. Here then is my modest addition to our collective thoughts. This time around I've linked to a video posted on their site, and took screen shots of a few of their photos of Melissa. Credit goes to them for all three.

Episode Six of Season One finds our gay band of designers moping around the Kingdom of Parsons after Norah has been auf’d.

"Gee gosh golly I’m really gonna miss Nora, she was such a joy to be around, so easy going," said Kevin in his weeny voice. "I mean, sure she was always nipping at my heels and telling me I was a lousy, good for nothing talent, but I thought we were soul mates!"

"Yadayadaya. I'm glad she’s history," pronounced Alexandra. "That bitch had talent. She was serious competition. My path to greatness and glory has been cleared. The only designers left with any talent are me, Austin, myself, Kara, and I."

At this point a light bulb clicks on in the viewers’ heads. Will Alexandra be the next one auf’d? She, who has heretofore been mysteriously silent is filmed chattering like a magpie perched on a telephone pole. I mean, the woman can talk! Who the hell knew?

The designers were discussing their next challenge when Tim breezed in bouncing a beach ball. "You will each have five hours to sew a bathing suit fit for Bravo’s Bikini Beach Blanket Bingo Party Revue. You’ll need to create something glamorous and sleek enough to navigate the waters. Now go out there and make it work!"

"Oooooh, goody!" Jay cried out, visions of Annette Funicello’s lacquered hair swimming in front of his eyes. He began to dance for joy. He’d always envisioned that this Disneyfied symbol of unattainable virginhood would wear his black leather and S&M straps and reveal lots of bootie.





(See an Annette tribute here.)



Hearing the news, Austin thought he’d died and gone to heaven. He loved Esther Williams. He channeled Esther Williams, He WAS Esther Williams reincarnated. (Dahlings, do please click on the bolded link. You won't be sorry.) For this challenge alone he’d been put on this earth. He would design something so glam, so swimmingly divine that Busby Berkeley would be tempted back to life to choreograph a water extravaganza around his smokin' young model Melissa, aka jail bait Lolita.

Alexandra smiled a Cheshire Cat smile. Little did the others know that she designed bathing suits morning, noon, and night. They had five hours? Pshaw! She could whip one out in two with both hands tied behind her back. This competition was hers to lose. After their visit to Mood, she’d get her nails and hair done by those Tresemme guys. She’d need to look spectacular when the judges bowed to her superior skills. As she followed the other designers, she began to work on her acceptance speech, "You like me, you really, really like me…"

Fast Forward to Mood, where our designers seemed clueless about bathing suit fabrics.

Kevin, fingering see through white fabric, muttered, "I’m gonna kick ass, I’m gonna kick ass. After all, I’ve chosen Morganza, she’s my trump card. Oh, god, I hope she doesn’t fall on the floor."

La Pepper walked around Mood in circles. "I’m really flying blind here. I don’t know anything about bathing suit construction. In fact, I don’t know anything about anything except being mean, but I think I’m hiding that well. Oooh, look, some lovely crepe." She stopped to read the label. "Mmmm. Shrinks when wet. What the hell, I’ll take three yards."

Queen Kara egged the others on to hurry. Alone of all the designers she had found and bought actual stretch Lycra for her suit. "C’mon chiclets, let’s not dawdle. You know SOMETHING ‘s gonna happen around five o’clock. We gotta get going!"

"Easy for you to say," sniped the usually affable Robert. "I’m trying to find a fabric that will make my model look like a sports car. You think that can be done in a rush? Hey, any vinyl around here? Got anything in 57' Chevy blue?"

We fast forward to the Kingdom of Parsons where all the designers (all but Alexandra, that is) were tearing their hair out. At her sewing machine, Queen Kara worried, "Never enough time!" even though she had immunity.

Jay’s dance for joy ended at the machine. "Please, please, please, please, please," he begged it, but it refused to sew a single stitch. Jay had at least 45 leather straps to go. How could he complete his gay S&M outfit if his damned equipment wouldn’t work? He exited the Kingdom of Parsons and took out a pack of savior cigarettes, smoking three at once.

Amidst the fever of bathing suit construction, La Pepper looked up from her sewing. Conscious of her sensible girdle with thigh and tummy control panels, she asked rhetorically, "Do I really need to make a thong? I know nothing about thongs. If Britney feels comfortable not wearing any undies in public, why should I make one for Martinique? After all, once you’ve seen one teensy poontang, you’ve seen them all."

"Eeewwwh!" declared her model, who’d just entered the room."I don’t want the entire world to see my honey pot. That’s so skanky! Can’t I use my own thong?"

La Pepper took her thong and studied it closely. "Mmm, interesting. Wonder where these stringy things go? Sure Sweetie, go ahead and wear it, though I hope it doesn’t conflict with my aesthetic vision of a cocktail dress."

"I thought this was a swimsuit challenge?"

"Yeah, whatever," La Pepper said. "I’m sure the judges won’t notice. We're supposed to make a big splash at a party, remember?"

Enter Tim Gunn, whose presence in PR One is becoming more and more pronounced. "Gather ‘round, chickens. We have a surprise for you. At five o’clock we're all attending a cocktail party at the Hero Lounge, where you and your models will vie for Richard Johnson’s attention to get mentioned in his Page 6 column."

Oooooh, I’d better get cracking, thought Alexandra. I’ve got to make an outfit in less than two hours! Wonder if I bought enough material to cover her up? Uh, oh. Think I’m gonna be royally *F--K*ed.

Fast Forward to the Hero Lounge where the party’s in full swing. Hottie Melissa, aka Jail Bait Lolita, has just discovered something wonderful: Richard Johnson looks just like her fictional hero, Humbert Humbert. Her teacher had made her read Lolita. Well, actually, she hadn’t read it. She’d watched both movie versions, and that old man Jeremy Irons was so yummy even though his skin sagged, and now here was this Richard Johnson just as old and disgusting and horny, and, well, what would he do if she shook her booty his way? Would he mention her on Page 6?


Heidi, who had entered the lounge unnoticed in the midst of this model orgy, sidled up to Richard, whose eyeballs were glued to Melissa’s backside. "Shame on you, Dick! What will Sessa say?"

Sessa who?, said Richard, pretending he didn't know Heidi.

"Sessa von Richthofen, your wife!" Heidi hissed, angry he wouldn’t even look at her in a direct conversation. Completely ignored, she stomped off. At least Seal appreciated her Teutonic charms. I'll go and see if he wants to make another baby, she thought.

"God, I LOVE this assignment," Richard cried out to no one in particular. "Think I’ll mention all the models. Forget these pathetic designers." He ogled Olga and Erin. Didn’t that girl Erin eat at all? he thought. She was nothing but a sack of bones. And why was she wearing a Missoni bikini and showing half her boobies UNDER her top?


"Here," said Tim, handing Richard a 32 oz. flagon of beer. "Hold this in front of your woodie so one will notice what a pervert you are."

We would say more about this party, gentle reader. But modesty prevents me from describing the lengths to which the designers and their models went through to get noticed. Let’s just say that the words whoring and pimping swiftly come to mind.

The following morning, we find Kevin torn with indecision. He had given Morganza permission to go out and party in his outfit. "Where is she where is she where is Morganza? She promised to show up on time. She promised. I oughta slap the bitch silly."

"A fool is born every minute and you’re one of them," proclaimed Queen Kara. "You shoulda never trusted her or let that bathing suit outta your sight."

But Kevin had no time for meaningful conversation. Morganza had arrived with his suit in tatters.

"It’s not so bad, Kevin," she said sweetly, handing him a few bits of 1" strips. A tuck here, a stitch there, and it’ll look like new."

But Kevin couldn’t hear her. He’d gone catatonic and entered The Twilight Zone.

There were a few more judges on the podium in this episode besides Richard and Heidi. Ginger and Marianne had been asked to contribute their thoughts.

The producers, unable to decide who was their favorite marooned starlet, decided to invite both. After all, who knew more about bathing suits than these two? Ginger had taken along a gazillion for a 3-hour cruise, and Marianne had decades of experience packing her assets into one memorable number.

After much consideration - Richard aka Humbert Humbert asked the models to twirl around a few more times to refresh his memory - the judges’ decision was final.

Austin: The winner. He'd successfully channeled Esther Williams with that bathing suit, oh yes, and on the podium he looked lovelier than Melissa. In fact he receive 10 brownie points for his bouffant hairdo alone.

The next day, when Austin and Jay opened the New York Post to see who won, Jay could barely contain his astonishment and surprise. How could that news hound whore Queen Austin have won when he - Jay the Magnificent- had designed the cutest little hooker outfit for Annette Funicello? Never mind that his suit was not designed to get wet. It just was not fair!

He grabbed at Austin's perfectly coiffed hair, but Austin quickly eluded him. (You know they were kidding, right? I mean two gays bitch-slapping each other? That marvelous entertainment would take an entire show!)

Alexandra: Auf’d. When asked by the judges: How did you get the inspiration for that suit? She mistakenly said, "Off the Missoni rack. Er, from Michael Kors. Actually, it’s a Kors-Missoni-Mish-Mash. Actually, it’s mine. I unpacked it from my suitcase and put it on my model. I spent too much time at the hairdressers and writing my winning speech, and, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah..."

The judges actually didn’t mind that she’d ripped off other designers, they just wanted her to shut up. Who knew she could talk? After 15 minutes of nonstop babbling, Ginger, mistakenly thinking she was judging the Gong Show, gonged Alexandra off.

But do not shed a tear for Alexandra, gentle reader. Anticipating a hosting stint in Top Chef 2, Padma Lakshmi stopped by during taping. Taking one look at Alexandra’s suit, she exclaimed, "I must have that divine bikini! It's ticky. It's tacky. It's way too small. And I love it! If Bravo ever hires me, I’ll find some way to wear it."

Stay tuned, Top Chef fans, to see if she did.