|Rudolph "Dolphie" Creakasdottir Berman-Ramus (dolphie) wrote,|
@ 2008-08-06 18:47:00
|Current mood:|| creative|
|Current music:||"Don't Let Dolphie on the Serger," Santino Rice|
Project RunCat, Season 1
Tonight, Project Runway is on. It is my favorite show because everyone is so bitchy and gay, it feels like I'm at home, except with (occasionally) beautiful clothes instead of the dirtbaggish ensembles that Girl and Boy wear. They are like, both such a HOT TRANNY MESS and I'm so fierce, I make Ferocia Coutura look like, well a tiny little pansy.
Usually, to celebrate that PRW is on, Girl has a glass of wine (or should I say, whine... 'cause she is AUF her rocker and I am IN the pink), but gives me no drugs whatsoever. It's not fair! So I decided that I would show her! I would make myself an outfit in preparation for my audition to the All Feline Project RunCat. Heidi Klum will say, "Either you're meow, or you're hiss!" And I Will Be Meow. Because my outfit is rad, and crinkly, and would cause a sea turtle to choke. It was inspired by Stella Zotis' Hefty Bag Ensemble from the season premiere. You all remember it, the whipstitched masterpiece she blew down the runway as if it were the Bowery in a strong wind:
That was roll n roll, baby! I went into Girl's utility closet, which is full of plastic bags that she is saving to make into a hot air balloon, or a circus tent, or a sail for a plastic yacht, or something. Who knows. Anyway, I like to rifle through there periodically and throw all the bags on the floor and then lay on them, because I like the feeling of plastic on my butt. It's so cooling and industrial. That's when I realized that Stella was onto something with her plastic bag dress.
I knew right where the nicest one was, this slate grey and maroon charmeuse plastic that I'd been eying at Bad Mood, my favorite fabric store. I fashioned it into this avante garde bubble skirt with chest strap. I think of it as the Cheshire Cat meets Alexander McQueen at Home Depot. Front view (notice how the strap accentuates the whiteness of my chest fuffa):
Aerial shot, where you can see the fullness of the skirt and how it drapes over my tail to create a voluminous silhouette:
Rear shot, which illustrates the structure of the garment, and how much room I have for farting in it:
In the workroom, Maceo Gunn told me that he was a bit concerned. After all, the challenge was to create a piece of lingerie from Vicky S:
I told him that I thought my dress was beautiful. He wondered, "Will you be able to make it work?" I hissed at him. He advised me to accessorize heavily from the BotFly Accessory Wall:
I said I would, as long as I could lay on the shoes and smell them. Mmmm, sweaty model feet. He said, "Carry on!" So I did. I am always carrying on, just ask anyone.
The judges reactions were mixed. I don't think they understood the vision for my garment. It's so underground and edgy that they could not grok its fullness.
The Duchess of Orange, at first, said it made him sleepy because it was very "Grocery Clerk of the Bride":
And then said he thought it was too much look, and that there was a lot of ass on the runway that night:
TansyGahzhia, aka Meana Godzilla, Fashion-Editor-At-Large-for-Fuffa-Magazine, tore it apart:
"Dolphie, while I see the influences of Bob Mackie and LaCroix, I don't find it very innovative." As always, she needed a creme rinse for those flyaway hairs.
And then, I committed the cardinal sin. I bored Shadow:
He said, "It looks like a plastic bag exploded on your ass."
But the guest judge, Chloe Sevigny, loved it. OF COURSE she did. Girl hates her and calls her Chloe Sofugly. I think she's just mad because Chloe turned Girl's grandmother's couch into a fashionable couture dress for the show:
and made the doilies off the back of the couch into a chic and stylish hat:
We also connected because she likes to run around in her underwear in public and I am BUCK NAKED except when I don high end plastic couture, so we understood each other's design aesthetic. Thanks to Chloe, whose excellent taste and fashion acumen trumped the tacky, wickety wack bullcrap of the other judges,
I WAS THE WINNAH! Congratulations, Dolphie! You will have immunity from the corny lameness of your cellmates for the rest of the week because of your unique plastic bag vision! Look for my fashion spread in the Kohl's circular, in your newspaper's supplement next week.
So, where's Tommy? I bet you're wondering "What happened to Tommy?" Answer: He's always wearing a very sexy tuxedo, with white gloves and spats, so this post and indeed, and the whole concept is not relevant to his fashion existence. ALWAYS MEOW, bitches:
After my victory, to celebrate we will be drinking martinis at Red Lobster (in my dreams... in my dreams, we would eat scallops bigger than Tansy's ego and shrimp shrimper than Maceo's wilkins. Tim Gunn would also be there. Later, he would rifle through Girl's underwear drawer and make fun of each and every pair, then throw them on the floor, where I would promptly lay on them and roll around on them sensually, sniffing and rubbing. Then Uncle Tim would give me treats and tell me I was gorgeous and talented... ah, dreams!).
Next, I want Kim Vo from Shear Genius to put some lowlights into my fur. You know, brighten things up a bit. Maybe pink on the belly? Right, girls?
Until then, I am your Fashion Victimizer,
Dolphie Ramus, Kind of a Big Deal
PS--It was also fun to make Girl run around the house trying to catch me to remove the bag. Jealous!!!