Project Runway

By: Missy Schwartz

Happy new year, TV Watchers! I hope your holidays were swell and you're less worn out from all the revelry than I am. If you're anything like me, any post-festivities blues you might be feeling these days disappeared Wednesday evening for at least an hour. After two weeks of reruns, Project Runway has returned — and with an episode worth getting excited about.

Well, at least in terms of the ingenuity of last night's challenge. Why we had to wait until episode 6 for a task that involved materials not found (at least partially) at Mood is beyond me. By this point last season, the designers had torn up their apartment and visited a recycling plant. But this week, it finally felt as if the Runway producers had snapped out of some boring spell that had them sending the contestants back to the same old fabric store over and over again. No dis to Mood — I shop there myself — but could the shop's owners be some sort of sorcerers who have bewitched our Bravo friends? (Such are the crackpot theories that come to me at 2 a.m., as my new kitten, Miko, is curled up and purring on my lap. Oh, to be a cat, a creature who knows not the concept of deadlines...)

I'm never a fan of blatant product placement, but I did enjoy watching the designers tear through the Times Square Hershey's shop, grabbing giant Kit Kats and colossal Kisses like a gang of naughty diabetics who'd just injected themselves with the world's most potent dose of insulin. Their five-minute grab-bag mayhem came after they all undoubtedly stifled a guffaw or 12 while listening to Hershey's rep Michelle Gloeckler speak with all the gusto of a stale Twizzler. ''Welcome. To. The. Sweetest. Place. In. New York,'' she said, sounding like Mr. Roboto's blond cousin. ''Surrounding. You. Are. All. Sorts. Of. Delicious. Brands. For. You. To. Create. Your. Designs.'' I can only imagine how many times she had to repeat her lines before the Runway producers threw up their hands in resignation, cursing themselves for not going with the more telegenic folks at Mars or Cadbury.

So, candy. The designers had to make ensembles from materials having to do with candy. As Chris pointed out early on, sewing actual foodstuffs (like salad ingredients!) can be a nightmare, so he and most of the others used wrappers, bags, and plush Hershey paraphernalia instead of actual sweets. Only Jillian dared make use of edible products. Ultimately, her efforts paid off, with Michael Kors dubbing her Twizzler bustier and fringed skirt ''deliciously chic.'' But for a while, the gal seemed to be in serious trouble. First, she feared damaging her scissors by cutting through all those sticky bits of licorice. (Cutting nonfabric materials can dull sewing shears something awful. Just ask my mother, who was forced to leave ''Hands Off!'' warning labels on her fancy scissors after I ruined a previous pair by trimming a third-grade papier-mâché science project or something. Sorry, Mom.) Then Jillian just couldn't attach the damn Twizzlers to the bodice fast enough. When midnight struck and the contestants had to head home, the poor woman fretted that she was ''in really bad shape.'' Indeed, she looked as shaken as someone with her preternaturally laid-back attitude possibly could be.

Making good on her name, Sweet P comforted Jillian, but given that her own design had already gone through three increasingly uninspired incarnations, the ex-biker could have used some divine intervention herself. ''Hello? Hello? That doesn't even go!'' said Christian, denouncing Sweet P's first skirt, a splotchy thing with a belt made of broken pottery. (All I can say is ''ouch.'') Then along came Master Gunn, whose critique of P's second design was even harsher: ''This is a skirt?'' he asked, glancing at the bit of fabric on the floor. ''I mean, it looks like a coffee filter or a maxi pad....You have to make this upbeat.'' As always, Tim tells no lies. Despite what Kotex would have us ladies believe, feminine hygiene products are in fact not the very definition of carefree ebullience.

As Sweet P struggled to craft something that didn't make Tim think of the dreaded pastel-toned aisle at Walgreens (a place all men fear), Elisa was busy stitching together what she described as a fairy-tale dress for her daughter. Then, in the show's most unexpected bummer of a turn since Jack fell ill last episode, Elisa explained that a while back, she was run over by a Porsche while working in London. Run over by a Porsche. The accident left her in a coma for five days, her head cracked open almost four inches. I'm no brain surgeon, but almost four inches — that's a really wide gash. As soon as she came out with her near-death story, I just knew our dear Rain Goddess Woman was not long for the show. Hers was just the sort of tearjerker that producers shamelessly bank for a contestant's final episode. And indeed, Elisa's brown velvet Gretel frock with silver arm bands, which Christian rightly likened to Swimmies, was neither wearable nor fabulous. Can't say I disagreed with the judges on this one, but I will miss Elisa — not only for her kooky, New Age musings (often so perfectly accompanied by a flaky flute soundtrack), but also for her kind, graceful attitude. She really does seem like a sweet person. (I didn't catch what she said to Heidi after getting auf'd. Perhaps one of you out there speaks Elisa?)

The judges chastised both Elisa and Sweet P for presenting looks that failed to capture the playfulness of candy. They read Victorya the same riot act, with Heidi calling her ruffled white dress more ''Dairy Queen'' than ''modern ice princess.'' A still more apt description would be ''half-assed, hick apron thing modeled by a woman strutting like an ostrich whose butt cheeks are perpetually clenched.'' Seriously — what the hell was the deal with that runway walk?

Of all the designers, Kit seemed to be enjoying the best sugar high — but maybe her giddiness was simply the product of working on a self-referential garment made of Kit Kats. Kevin's brown-beige skirt-blouse-jacket ensemble, meanwhile, hardly screamed exhilaration to me, but it was polished and tailored, which apparently was enough to advance him to the next round. As many of you pointed out last week, the judges often leave themselves wide open for criticism by employing different criteria to assess each contestant. I'll let you duke it out as to whether Kevin unfairly got a pass, but I'll admit I was happy to see the judges' system work in Chris' favor last night. Michael Kors praised the characteristically extravagant designer's restraint this week — as Chris himself admitted, he easily could have sent a parade float down the runway. Nina even deemed his subdued op-art dress ''ready for Elle.''

As for Christian, his Reese's Peanut Butter Cup wrapper dress was definitely chic, reminiscent of Michael's coffee-filter frock from last season. But was it playful? Not sure monochromatic brown candy wrappers — even 1,000 of them — are ever truly exuberant. But perhaps the little guy was feeling off last night. Not once did he utter the word. Which leaves our ''fierce'' count exactly where it was before the hiatus, at nine. (Also missing from last night's ep? Ricky's waterworks. Guess that was because he was too busy throwing ''caution out the window.'' I, on the other hand, would have been content had he defenestrated that silly, bulbous Hershey skirt.)

In the end, it was Rami who took top marks with his Peppermint Pattie skirt and red vinyl Twizzler halter top. Exceptionally well made, the look was whimsy meets 1970s London punk/bondage, and the judges ate it up — especially guest Zac Posen, who looked so delighted when Rami's model hit the runway that I wondered if he wasn't about to jump up and gobble down the outfit then and there.

What about you, TV Watchers? Which outfits gave you the munchies? Which ones made you want to hurl?