Dragging the remaining contestants to Paris in their self-designed jetset wear was pretty creepy.
Vincent made saggy, plain pajammies in festive black and charcoal heather. The V-neck top was baggy and too deeply cut for a male. Awful.
Uli made a typical flouncy print dress- her trademark...again. Yawwwn.
Laura made an elegant party dress in an ecru/peach silk jersey that traveled well.
She should have won.
Michael made a P. Ditty-style, white Hamptons seersucker thing, very hiphop. He's got an eye for what's hot, that's for sure.
Tattoo neck Jeff sans-a-chin made a rocker outfit that looked like early Pat Benatar meets recent Gene Simmons. The boy is beyond white trash, he's meth lab trash with a bottle of generic tequila thrown in.
And Kayne made a Liberace/Elvis casual costume in black, with hideous appliques in a girly Versace-inspired butterfly print of purples and fuchsia, along with a belt buckle that spelled KAYNE in rhinestones. Tres Okie faggola.
But poor, poor Angela took the cake with her shit-brown, silk linen, cuffed pedal pushers with a wrinkly, gathered ass and two big granny circles stuck to the ass cheeks she calls, "fleurchons." Her top was a maroonish balloony thing that just didn't look good. The judges HATE linen and the color brown, so she just doesn't notice what they say, apparently. Gag me with a fleurchon, dude.
Tim and the gang went to Parson's Design Paris, where a particularly bitchy Parisian designer named Catherine Malandrino told Kayne "he luke reedeekulous" and Angela, "Ju luke out of zis world, YOU ARE OUT."
Of course, that scum-sucking burn-out Jeff won and was delighted that Angela was unceremoniously ousted and taken back to the airport, to return for good to her farm in Ohio.
The clear leaders to date are Michael and Laura, with Uli thrown in as an also-ran.
The rest of them need to be tarred, feathered and prohibited from designing again, in this order:
What do you think?