Project Reality

I’m not much for reality TV. The Bachelor? I don’t care if he’s in Rome or Rancho Cucamonga, although the latter is fun to say. Survivor? Never seen it. The Real World? Please, the real world for a real twenty-something involves cramming for finals and scrimping together a few dollars to buy a discounted top or dinner. (And usually you have to choose between the two, which explains why I was much thinner in my college days.) Oh, and if you’re like me, the real world when you’re in your 20's is about prenatal exams and edema, not clubbing and hooking up with your aspiring actor/model roommate.

But I digress – and I think that’s OK.

I did, however, give reality TV a chance with Project Runway this season and I’m glad that I did. It’s a cool show with minimal human drama and a lot of emphasis on the creative process of designing and making clothes. (And it’s fun to watch Heidi Klum in various stages of her many pregnancies, which are so close together that we can only assume she has a secret desire to be fat … but this is the only way her German metabolism will let her chunk out.)

(WARNING: Spoiler alert!) Last night they crowned the top designer after the remaining four contestants presented a runway show of 12 designs. And who did they pick? Jeffrey.

Now, if you don’t care much for reality TV – and I can’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t because these are real people doing real things like making outfits out of real recycled paper products – you probably don’t know who Jeffrey is. But I do. And that’s where my dilemma comes in. (Sadly this many paragraphs down in a lame post.) Jeffrey is a whiney, pompous, mom-hating, cursing jerk who just managed to get by throughout the season.

The real crowd favorite (and mine) was Michael Knight, a young, hip-hop loving nice guy who had fresh designs and a refreshing attitude. But his runway collection was some “serious ugly” – to quote fellow competitor Laura Bennett, who is a master tailor who could make you a killer cocktail dress for a political fete, but is obsessed with décolletage, feathers and beading. But back to Michael. His safari-inspired line was disco-trashy and way too revealing. I’ve already addressed Laura’s fabulous talent and lackluster vision. And Uli Herzner? Her clothes were cool, but a little repetitive for me, especially because I don’t live in Miami, and I don’t think a gauzy sarong will keep me warm during a Chicago winter.

Which leaves me with Jeffrey. His clothes were fabulous. Innovative. Unique. Other adjectives that mean cool and edgy. (And I do like things cool and edgy, though I often don’t have the guts or the body to pull them off.) And he really is the most versatile person who could design things for any occasion and not just a formal (Laura) or informal (Uli) event.

So I guess he deserved to win it? (Note question mark.) That’s the problem. I just don’t know if I can have peace knowing that the bad guy finished first and the good guy finished last. But I would probably buy the bad guy’s clothes before I would buy the good guy’s clothes, although my inner Beyonce would want to try them on.

And while I’m ranting – I just want to send my heartfelt condolences to starlets like Beyonce and J.Lo, who are always getting hype for their “real bodies” even though I know they both must work exceptionally hard to be so stick-thin and fit. They get kudos for their “hearty” appetites, although I can guarantee you they are munching on carrot sticks most of the time to look like that. (Just because you have a butt doesn’t mean that you eat whatever you want. It means Mother Nature gave you a little junk in your trunk, if you know what I’m saying.) So stop making them feel like they have these average, curvy bodies when they spend so much time fighting their true curves. A real body, especially in their respective cultural communities, isn’t wearing anything in the single-digits, much less a size 2.

That, my friends, is reality.