I honestly don't know what to say.
I have to, reluctantly, acknowledge that the timing of Fashion Week precludes the possibility she actually ripped off Alexander McQueen. I also must, even more reluctantly, that the bridesmaid dress was well done and perky. And blue. It was blue.
But I really have to say I'd rather eat
my young her head than see her walk into the tent at Bryant Park.
I want Jerrell there.
Yes, he's very costumey. (And McQueen isn't? Why do these people bark about costumery being some sort of outside agitator in fashion's quiet white suburb? And don't get me started on unbalanced viewing of fashion that doesn't come from a completely White New York-oriented paradigm. Just don't.)
He's also gifted. And funny. And self-deprecating at just the right times.
And he's kind.
Behind the bitchy comments and the flamboyance is the person who found just the right thing to say to Stella when she was the last person to be chosen as a team mate, praising her for her leather work and telling her that was just what he needed. He didn't need to say it, but he did. I started to love him then, and I still love him now.
Think about it. When I can watch talent, humor and kindness, do I exchange that for talent and whiney self-defensive, self-involved junior high drama?
Well? What the hell you do think I'd take?