Project Runway, Season 7, Episode 13

Jay and Mila’s battle royale for the third spot at Bryant Park—or, as Project Rungay tweeted, “Prissy vs. Pissy”—was prefaced by the time-honored tradition of Tim Gunn flying all over the country to hike up stairs, eat home-cooked meals and meet starstruck loved ones. The advice he offered the finalists after three of the four months allotted to build their collections wasn’t constructive criticism so much as it was a game of 52-Card Pick-Up with Nelson Muntz.

To Seth Aaron: “I’m truly amazed that, although we’ve asked for ten looks, you’ve already made 15 and plan to make 20. I’m gonna tell you how fabulous it all is and then I’m gonna tell you to burn it and start over from scratch. And then I’m gonna yell ‘fallopian tubes!’ at your daughter during a game of Pictionary, and then I’m gonna jump on your trampoline for a bit. Whaddya think of my leather blazer? I drink your milkshake.”

To Mila: “Ugh, I thought we left L.A. Why is it raining? I hate the rain. Now I’m in a mood. Your clothes are matronly and conservative. The only woman you know how to dress is yourself. Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Hermanovski. Did your daughter always hate color? I see she used to dress like Lita Ford, ha ha. Look at this crazy house. I’m half-tempted to pour this Shiraz on your Dalmatian to make sure I haven’t gone color blind. Get me out of here.”

To Jay: “What are you, a freshman? Qu’est-ce que c’est? No, I don’t have plans for dinner. Great.”

During one of Tim’s visits, however, he took the words right out of my mouth. “You’re running behind,” he told Emilio, “and sweating details the judges won’t see from their seats.”

“But I’m not designing clothes for the cameras,” Miss Sosa replied. “I’m designing clothes for my client.”

Emilio, the camera is your client.

The producers couldn’t have stoked the tension between Hermanovski and Sario any more without stapling them together. Hey, you almost killed each other during Episode 9, so why don’t we make you roommates? We know the workroom is giant and nearly empty but you have to share a work table. You have three hours. Fight!

Unbeknownst to them, however, Jay and Mila had just had a heart-to-heart in the Presidential Suite at the Westin New York Times Square. Neener-neener.

Mila’s three-piece audition for the big time: Fish scales, biker glovelets, killer jewelry and a flash of houndstooth. Referential, ’60s, impeccably made, adventurous only in minuscule portions. Edna Mode for Twiggy.

Jay’s: “There’s nothing retro at all about these clothes,” Michael said. “Zero. But they’re also ungapatchka.” Jay did better than I expected, and Mila worse, and there were some strange close-ups on the judges’ faces when they broke the news, were there not? Anyway, we’re going to Bryant Park soon, finally, and not to a sausage fest. And apparently Seth Aaron is going to turn into a brunette Andy Warhol in front of our very eyes.