Ho-hum. Someone won.
And it was no surprise at all, was it?
It’s not so much that I dislike Christian’s designs. If I had the body of a teenage boy, I’d wear them. I mean, my wardrobe is largely black NOW, just not so much with the feathers and skinny pants, you know? But he’s 21. He’s got years in him to mature into a real person from his cartoonish self, and frankly, I’d rather have seen Rami or Jillian win.
Well, actually, I’d have preferred Chris March or Sweet P., by the end, but of the three who COULD win…well, you get the idea.
And so it ends, and my final assessment?
More drama among the competitors, please. Oh, it was refreshing that they mostly got along (with the possible exception of Victorya, the poster-child for passive aggressive personalities), but it’s more FUN when they don’t.
Consider this post your last call for thoughts.
And an invitation: Jeremy and I are flipping this blog over to cover the new season of Top Chef, and if you’re already a fashionista, you’re welcome to stay on and be a foodie.
