The Good Old Days!
A Happy New Year and 2,013 apologies for totally missing the Christmas week episode of Project Runway: Patience Testers. I was under the impression that no one could stomach a quart of egg nog, their family and a show featuring the tattered dreams of a little British fairy who sold her soul to a Bridge Troll for a sack of rosette embellished dresses. Now that I think about it, those things go together just fine, if you add enough whiskey.
Mea Culpa. I will make it up with a midi-cap of that episode and push forward with the newest recap post-haste!
Onwards and Backwards! The last time I was with you, Aryan won unfairly for his 20’s flashback, although Uli had it in the flapper bag. Also Saint Pancake unfairly, but thankfully went home for designing something that showed her model’s pelvic bulge, but was still superior to the look put out by Ivy, Queen of the Translucent Blouse.
This Last week:
The Challenge –
Design something that can be produced for a profit at the sale price of $500-700 for 5th Avenue designer Elie Tahari.
She has been taking dance classes via the Goop website
The winning dress will be designed and sold by Tahari. All profits to go to the woefully needy charity for saving the Garment District. This is all ringing a terribly familiar and maudlin bell for me and I can’t help but recall getting fired up the last time they did this. Please avoid the next few paragraphs if you aren’t wearing your angry rant glasses. Also, go put them on dammit!
Basically the old garment industry in Manhattan has gone the way of the Meatpacking District or the Times Square Red Light District or Squirrel Rape Alley – high real estate prices have pushed these old NYC bastions into the surrounding boroughs or even, shudder, New Jersey. Not to say you can’t get a prostitute in Manhattan, you’re just going to pay a lot more.
I get the “keep manufacturing in the US” movement. And applaud it. The thing is, when this district did produce a huge amount of manufacturing it was during the Industrial Revolution when we had domestic sweatshops and no labor laws or workers’ rights. Lots of women spent miserable hours choking in lint-filled air for hours on end to make affordable mass-produced fashion. Let’s not glorify that or try to force the cost-challenged manufacturing industry into one of the highest priced real estate markets in the world. Yes, it’s very charming that there is a giant button and needle on West 39th Street, but it’s also charming that I can go to Tenjune without having to shimmy between giant slabs of beef. Call me a raving capitalist, but say it after I pick up the tab.
Oh, and when they did this before, it turns out I did see at least some of Mondo’s season because I completely remember this winning travesty:
I’d rather donate my first-born (squirrel) to STGC than be seen in public in this thing