In other news: I am a big nelly fag.
“How big,” you ask?
Big enough to follow fashion week coverage in both the New York Times and New York magazine. And big enough to sift through that coverage to find photos of the Project Runway shows.
Of course I found them. On the New York splash page, even.
And at first, I thought: “Holy crap! New York magazine just revealed the identities of the three finalists!” And then I thought: “Oh, never mind. All five designers had shows; two must’ve been red herrings.” And then I thought: “Holy crap! I’m really getting into this whole Project Runway thing!” And then I had a drink and wondered whether or not to spoil the finale by looking at the photos anyway.
So, that’s how gay I am.
And by the way, this comes from a man who’s worn the same black belt for nearly a decade. With everything. Even brown shoes. My obsessiveness makes about as much sense as Maya Angelou scouring the society columns for news of the debutante circuit–and maybe she does, but it still doesn’t compute.
Anyway, if you, too, are a big nelly fag, or a FOBNF (“friend of big nelly fags”), feel free to take a gander yourself. The only thing that’s spoiled is the identity of the guest judge–who, seven years ago, might’ve impressed me, but now not so much.
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