We reflect on this week's wedding outfits, and the limits of our love for seersucker.
Can you feel it Fashion Show fans? Love is in the air. Not David and Dominique's yoga love. Not Iman's love for zingers. But love, love! Gay civil union love.
This week's episode had the designers playing host to same-sex brides and grooms, judged by the very definitions of fabulocity, Rachel Zoe and Johnny Weir.
I was ready for band of bridezillas to have their way with our gentle designers. Steam-rolling them into chiffon catastrophes and screams stifled with sequins.
But these blissfully in love couples shamed the diva nature of their hetero counterparts, keeping their cool even when Calvin went banseeh about his anti-seamstress stance and love of pandas. Some one hire Paul and Eric in crisis management roles, because those gents were as cool as cucumbers.
The houses were broken into couples arranged marriage style, with the designers pulling bands of gold, platinum, or diamond from a small ring bearer's bag. No one wanted to be wedded to Calvin, but like a shotgun wedding, it had to be done.
And so Cindy was saddled with Calvin, and his hatred for his more portly pair.
Things went about as well as you could imagine.
Here was this smadorable bear couple, with their big bones and their ruddy cheeks, looking for something that reflected Paul's Korean heritage, without making dear Eric look like he was auditioning to be in Memoirs of a Geisha. Or making Paul look like he was working at a hibachi grill.
Calvin, being not the most understanding person, surprisingly does not latch on to the Korean traditions. Instead creating a kimono, refrencing kung fu movies, and calling his couple pandas, though he meant that last one not as an insult. And should it be? Methinks no, look at how adorable loved up pandas are: exhibit A.
I hope one day that when I'm wedded, people say we look like two pandas in love.
We also learn a lot about Jeffrey this week. We learn that he has another pajama dress (we haven't seen the pink one from judging before have we?). We learn he's a virgin (can someone remake Easy A with him as the Emma Stone role, because I'd Netflix it). We learn he has the same haircut as sweet Bridgette (and possibly many other fashionable lesbians and piano icons). Most of all we learn the boy can make a seersucker suit like no one's business.
But isn't seersucker a bit tired? I might have mentioned I'm from the South, and I can't tell you how times I've seen a slew of frat dads trot out in the stuff, feeling superior to their simple suited friends.
Sure Bridgette and Christina were having a beachy wedding, so it was appropriate, but can we make a promise that unless you're on the beach, boat, some other form of outdoors or literally on a Kentucky bourbon trail we'll take a break?
Also, I'm with the Weir on this one (and when am I not), I thought Dominique's dress was a touch wrinkled. If she had pressed it could have been very Carolyn Bessette (which will inspiration for my Brooklyn wedding, which is happening whenever I get around to meeting someone), but instead a looked a little Rumpelstiltskin.
I personally loved what Eduardo/Cesar did in their cocktails and Quaaludes housewife matrimony.
Let us imagine for a moment Johnny Weir running through fields of Eduardo-produced flowers. Imagine if you will endless beds of blooms, and Johnny tumbling down in the mid-day sun and rolling around, just delighting in the Dijon-ness of their glory.
That's a dream that I can get behind.
Eduardo's dress in its Grey Pupon-Grey Gardens-valiums and nannies glory was a delight. If I wanted to get married as a '60s housewife on acid, this would be the first, nay the only dress I'd try on. Sold.
Meanwhile, Cesar attempted to channel Grace Jones for Andrea. I see it in the cut, but I don't really see Grace Jones in this outfit. Simon Doonan (next week's judge, who I adore one thousand times over, yay) or, perhaps, an eager and daper golfer maybe, but not Grace Jones. I dug it though, and it was the exactly outfit what Andrea wanted down to the paisley pants (which, is one of those things that when you have a hankering for, it cannot be stopped despite all logic and reason. See: my bedspread from my sophomore year of high school). The jacket did look some fierce, as did the detail that her pumps matched her glasses, Cesar you sly dog you.
But Cindy's inability to dress a man had to be punished. I'm with Iman: have you made sleeves before? Why, why, dearest Cindy, did you feel that the answer to a decently-fitted outfit was to just take it in more? If you had left it alone, Calvin might have been forced to take his woven obi and sushi kimono back home, to live a life as a cruel cater-waiter instead of spending another week with us. But next week is Doonan week, so it will be worth seeing their interaction.
But what did you kids think? Would you be wedded in any of these outfits?