| October 25, 2004
Dear Austin Scarlett,
I know, I know. Sometimes life is unfair, but we’ve got to keep a brave face. When those Project Runway judges asked you to "please leave the runway" as the last cut contestant before Season One’s final three went off to Olympus Fashion Week, you dealt with it better than anyone could have hoped. Your strength hearkened back to an earlier era of glamour and poise. You were a bit Jennifer Jones – always the bridesmaid, never the bride – tempered with a dash of Garbo "just vanting to be alone." I imagine you retreated into a quiet hideaway hung with chiffon and lace, ate some grapes (do you ever eat?), and planned your comeback.
Still, you did actually get to show at Olympus Fashion Week, although few know it. In order to keep the final three under wraps, the Project Runway producers present four designers yet broadcast only three. While Jay McCarroll’s punk-infused classicism walked away with the prize (arguably Kara Saun’s collection was a little more applicable to real life, but what’s the fun in that?), the fact that Wendy Pepper was even allowed into Bryant Park is a slap in the face to fashion. Way to de-value the program, Project Runway!
I viewed the photos of your Fashion Week collection, smuggled out on Project Runway blogs. Your flair was still there. The billowing fabrics, the imagination, and the inspiring details all in line with the 10 (well, okay, maybe a half-dozen) beautiful dresses you made for the program. But, I must admit, they left me with a question weighing heavily on my mind. After all the talk about old-fashioned glamour and beauty, dear Austin, what’s up with all that pirate stuff?
Faithfully yours (until at least next season),
Mark A. Hamilton
November 4, 2005
Dear Daniel Vosovic,
I’ll admit right off the bat I wasn’t always your biggest admirer. You spent the first few episodes of Project Runway’s second season kind of floating around in the background, not really taking any chances, not really blowing anyone out of the water with your designs. Sure, your hair was nice (enviable, even), and I felt an instant kinship given our mutual affection for wearing knit scarves indoors whatever the season may be. At first, my heart belonged to Nick Verreos and those fishtail gowns of his, not to mention those amazing stories about "young heiresses on vacation in Crete" and taking inspiration from "Barbie as a Puerto Rican hooker."
Then something changed. Santino Rice turned from merely cocksure into a total cock, Nick didn’t talk about anything but young heiresses summering away (obviously, he’s always wanted to be one), and Daniel Franco’s return after having been booted from the first season’s lineup in the first episode (the other day I had a ‘Daniel Franco, Where’d You Go?’ singalong with my designer friends from the Loyal Loot Collective, and oh, how we laughed) still resulted in shoddy work wrapped up in sensitive-new-age-man dressing.
And then you showed what you could do, taking it all the way to the final three, charming me nearly to death each and every week. Losing out to Chloe Dao, you were robbed worse than Austin Scarlett in Season One. I know I, for one, certainly won’t be buying anything bearing Michael Kors’s name (although I did see a rack of some of last year’s men’s collection down at Winners at a heavy discount – take that, "King of Jetset Fashion"), despite his last-minute job offer on that final episode. Good on you for turning it down, despite the calls of "prima donna!" from the blogarazzi. You can do better and you know it.
P.S. – I think I love you.
Sincerely,
Mark A. Hamilton
October 17, 2006
Dear Tim Gunn,
I leapt eagerly into this year’s Project Runway as I do every season, in the hopes of picking up looks to incorporate into my autumn wardrobe and charming ways of talking about the movement of fabric at parties. In the first episode, to my dismay, there didn’t seem to be much of anyone worth swooning over like last year (if you see Daniel Vosovic around, please ask him if he got my letters). I liked Malan Breton, but mostly because he cried upon getting cut in the second episode ("I don’t have any friends. I finally thought I found some and now I’m going home"). I liked Alison Kelly enough to propose marriage, until I saw that terrible paper dress she sent down the runway in episode six. Something just seemed missing this season.
Then I realized, the one I truly love has been under my nose the entire time, from Season One’s first revolutionary moments. It is you, Tim Gunn, that makes us tune in week after week. Your suggestions, your comments, your rapier wit and finesse. I’ll admit I’ve been cheating this season, downloading episodes ahead of my Canadian brethren. I loved the way you brought everyone out to Paris for a couture challenge, only to send Angela Keslar straight back to the airport (withholding final judgment for the cut designer until arrival at Parsons Paris) mere minutes after landing at Charles De Gaulle. Fashion’s wonderfully cruel, and so are you.
Is there any surprise enrolment in fashion studies at Parsons New School of Design has gone up 8000 per cent since Project Runway hit the airwaves? It’s all you, Tim. To quote from Jeffrey Sebelia’s limited edition T-shirt from the Project Runway website, it’s all about, "sex, drugs, and Tim Gunn." I’ll see you in class (fingers crossed).
Patiently yours,
Mark A. Hamilton |
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