Where am I? Really, I'm asking, because... don't I normally recap the brainy shows that no one really watches because there are so many words and people having like, emotions and stuff, and human interactions of deep meaning? Kind of, anyway? When Wing Chun assigned this to me, I know she was laughing. I have never really watched reality shows -- especially the ones that actually involve reality of some kind. Now, Rock Of Love, I've watched that shit -- but those people aren't real, right? I've been around the block a few times, and I am fairly certain there aren't that many women who could even force themselves to claim that they'd want to have sex with Bret Michaels...
All right, let's get on with it this painful ordeal and "meet" the "models."
Here's the premise, which will no doubt sound familiar to you: the blazing-hot Niki Taylor and the equally-smoking Tyson Beckford went all over the country (or, you know, sent people to a couple of cities) to find thirty-five hopefuls who could then be brought to New York to have their hopes raised, where they would immediately have them shattered and dashed when the group is whittled down to fourteen finalists.
Tyson: "How hard is it to take someone from the street to turn them into a supermodel? It's almost the chance of you winning the lottery."
And frankly, that must be true, because Tyra's been trying this for a while, right, and it has yet to work. But look, we're just starting out, here. Niki shares some further insight about the process:
Niki: "When you put an open call out, you pretty much get a whole bunch of different people."
Oh, really? Now, listen, let me say a word or two about Niki Taylor. She is beautiful. And she is a mother. And she is a bazillionaire who does not even need this job because she's been through a lot in her life and is already rich and famous enough, and...she had that really bad wreck...so let's please refrain from making her look dumb on TV. She's been through too much. Anyway, they start out in Dallas, where I'm told in a painfully written voiceover that the beautiful people are prepared to strut their stuff. One guy in particular, Niki hesitates to tell us, seemed to be confused on the concept of what was going on with that whole "supermodel" thing.
Tiny Blond Hipster Queen, Possibly High on X: "Well, um, the models that I've seen on y'all's tv shows? Um? I don't like them?"
Poor, Beleaguered Producer: "So you think you can do better?"
He proceeds to explain that though he knows he "don't got a booty?" He's really good at shaking it? And then he shakes it, up against a wall in a decidedly epileptic manner.
TBHQ: I'm prolly gonna get a callback? 'Cuz, I'm better than all you bitches?
Texas, however, was not without some real potential, Niki explains while showing us two gorgeous people who do not make it on to the finals. Because Texas has Isabelle, a lovely girl who is so thin, and thus must be so hungry, her probable low blood sugar would almost explains what a bitch she is.
Isabelle: "I've been modeling for about two months with an agency. Legitimate modeling."
She's so thin, her cigarette jeans look like they are housing actual cigarettes in the legs. Legitimate cigarettes, and they're sure to show us a staffer taking her bust measurement as she stands there braless in her tank top, basically without any bust to measure whatsoever.
Isabelle wants to be on the show for the great exposure; she knows she'll be famous one day, she says, and this could be the kickstart. Which illustrates in a nutshell exactly what I don't get about these shows. There's a whole generation now that accepts these televised contests as something other than a humiliating waste of their time, and accepts them so blindly that they think they could actually benefit from participating. And, like Isabelle, they think it's totally okay to say dumb stuff on national television and shine a megawatt spotlight on the delusions of youth. Yes, well, maybe I'm overthinking this, but it pains me to see young people being stupid, because it only serves to remind me how stupid I was as a young person.
The crew heads to Chicago to meet more deluded youngsters, including the precious, adorable Josiah, who lives in Nashville, is married at twenty-two, and picks out all of his wife's clothes. But that doesn't matter, because as I say, he is presh. Also in Chicago: Nicholas, who assures producers that he his nothing like any of those other guys auditioning today. What makes him unique? "I'm skinny," he says. "I'm Guyanese and African-American." Okay, I'll give him that one, but then: "I'm gay." Haaaaaa! It gets especially good when he goes, "I mean, obviously that would make me The Gay One." I had to pause the Tivo for a good long while. Nicholas is quite attractive, but his hair is on the Michael-Off The Wall-era tip, and that surely will hurt him. Nicholas really thinks he's going to win, though, because he's diverse, and because every time he walks past a mirror, he's thinking of poses. I say a silent prayer that he gets cut early, because I cannot take an entire season of this International Male up on my TV. Plus, as Tyson happens to allude one shot later, this guy is short and supermodels are tall.
Chicago offers up some more hopefuls: the unfortunately-named Ashlie Olson, who was nicknamed Yao Ming in high school because of her long legs; really, really cute Ronnie, all-American gay guy who used to unknowingly date a porn star; and Igor, whose name is...Igor.
Down in Miami, the ladies are on the scene. Potential models come from all walks of life, apparently. What are their professions?
Random Girl 1: "I'm a professional wrestler."
Random Girl 2: "I'm a bank teller."
Random Girl 3: "I'm working as a performer at Walt Disney World."
Honest Girl 4: "...Stripping."
Also in Miami: the lovely Heeda, who is Polish/Indian/Black/Italian, and declares herself to be what's hot; and the adorable Holly, from Tinyville, Virginia, who buys her clothes at vintage stores and has her hair cut in a pageboy. Holly is the picture of innocence and sweetness, so I am sure they will make her take nudie shots on top of a building holding a snake.
But, listen, if I was her I wouldn't mind, especially if those shots were with Casey, from Atlanta, who's a musician and a Buddhist (because "the whole love and compassion thing is really awesome"), and gorgeous; or FRANKIE, whose name will always appear in all-caps because he is, FRANKLY, the most beautiful creature living on Earth today. In a home video clip, FRANKIE says what makes him a supermodel is his personality, his looks, and his rock-hard abs. And he is correct. He spends all day on the beach, being stunning, and adds that he's probably the best-looking guy in the country. Again: correct. Even my husband, who was walking through the room, goes "WHOA. They can call this thing off right NOW." Seriously. FRANKIE.
, they head to Hollywood, where all the waiters show up totally jaded because they audition for this crap every day in their sleep. One guy, Perry, doesn't seem to realize he looks exactly like that guy from Sugar Ray, Mark McGrath. Before he got the veneers, I'm saying.
Perry's all jokey-jokey, talking about how amazing his girlfriend is, clearly in a ploy to get them to cast him as the "guy with a girlfriend back home who thus is tortured by hookup potential in the model house." Then he takes his shirt off and acts nervous about it, forcing one of the producers to assure him, "Dude, you're good-looking," to which he answers: "I know." All that, plus, he's giving me a touch of the K-Feds.
up is Dominic, a professional skin-boarder, who is tall so he figures he might as well be a model. He talks in a monotone, and I am ready to dismiss him until he reveals that he's fluent in Spanish, and would love to be on Telemundo. So, now I love him.
Yenier is twenty-one and from Cuba. His father thinks the fashion industry is "so gay." Yenier looks guilty for having to put it like that, but come on, Papi is right. He's super-thin and sort of weird-looking, so he will surely advance to the round.
The last stop for the crew is New York, which turns out to be full of freaks. Who knew? The best two include a tiny scraggly-haired Jewish man in white shorts and a sparkly hat, and who goes by the stage name of Sex 21 Plus.
Poor, Beleaguered Producer: "So...tell us more...Sex?"
Sex 21 Plus: "I'm sexy-looking."
He isn't. Nor is the forty-year-old Robert, who looks like the Unabomber and was just walking by and saw the line and, probably thinking it was the methadone clinic, decided to stand in it and audition for whatever it was that was going on. As you do. "Awesome," says a producer, and I am forced to agree.
A pretty blonde tells the camera that she like, has like, morals and like, values and stuff and thinks she can be like, a feminist and still be on a model show. And then there is Ben, who came all the way from Nashville, taking time off from his job as a prison guard and traveling with his, I'll say it delicately, very normal-looking wife, to fulfill his dream to become a model. He's cuuuute and from the cowntry, and I guess he must have bad eyesight or something and the Army wouldn't take him, because he looks right out of the Go Army brochure.
Praise God, all that traveling is done, and the powers that be have narrowed down the thousands of hopefuls to just thirty-five, all of whom are flown to New York to be put through the wringer.
Clearly, they don't know too much about the show's premise, since every one of them looks totally surprised to see that their hosts are Niki and Tyson -- actual, real supermodels and not some Abdulified versions of industry professionals. You know they thought Kathy Ireland was about to walk in there with Fabio. And the sad thing is, they wouldn't have cared. Niki -- who is wearing so much makeup I can hardly recognize her -- says that they've been all over the country and these people are the best of the best. Except, well, then she mentions that some of them will actually be going home in about an hour when they do cuts. So, those people will be the worst of the best? All of these kids look sick to hear that.
The day begins. Niki and Tyson make the contestants walk up and down the runway and ask them a bunch of dumb questions all over again, this time assisted by three heads of New York Models, from which the winner of this contest will be receiving a contract.
Apparently, this business is not all about the way you look. I find that hard to believe, but allegedly it's also important to be able to talk and pick out the right clothes for go-sees. Katy, from Alabama, does not look like a supermodel to me, yet, but she's from Alabama and so am I, so she gets a pass from me. We meet a bunch of the others all over again, including FRANKIE, and they interview poor Aryn, who is also from Alabama (look, we're very attractive down here), but gets no pass from me, because she is too silly for words giggling about how she controls men with her smile, because they're "like, easier than girls." Haaa.
More of the contestants embarrass themselves talking about their unique features of confidence and passion, attributes that no twenty-year-olds have ever been able to claim in the history of the world! One guy just got out of the military after two tours in Iraq. I get a tear in my eye because he is cute and nearly died and now he is doing THIS. Another guy used to weigh 250 pounds, and the New York Models president acts like he said 250 tons. Niki obviously tries to give everyone a big smile to boost their confidence, and it backfires on her when ol' Perry steps up and annoys the entire world by asking if she could, real quick, just wink at him. She does not appear to comply, thank God, but she laughs, even when he says some other stupid stuff. The Buddhist is there, too, cute as ever, and tells the tragic tale of how he lived out of his guitar case in an alley for a while. Out of a guitar case? Seriously, he says that, and his voice even cracks. I cover my face in shame. He's so beautiful, but these kids have watched so many of these shows, and they are all so desperate to cast themselves in these roles, and the show doesn't even bother to make it subtle. Remember gorgeous, adorable Ronnie? In the time since we last saw him, he got a spray-on tan, is covered on both arms with tattoos, and has frosted his hair. Why, Ronnie? Why?
Shannon -- who is weirdly beautiful and nine feet tall and possibly has a slight case of Asperger's -- steps up to tell a little about herself. One of the most interesting things about her, she says, is that, despite her very feminine appearance, she's actually male. Vrrrrt! The needle comes off the record and everyone looks horrified until she adds that, yes, she's one of the most masculine girls anyone could ever meet -- you know, one of the boys! I don't know if, when this actually happened, she was trying to make a joke, but I tend to accept this version as reality, seeing as how in her home video clip, she is ranting non-stop about her unbelievable drive to "constantly earn money."
Tyson tells us, with gravity, that this industry is all about who wants it most, and that in this competition, they'll find out who wants it. Not that I'm complaining about any time Tyson's on screen, but...really? Who is writing these lines?
They put the models in pairs and have them show off their best catwalk moves to get the sense of...how well they walk on their legs? I don't know. The walk is very important, y'all. Tyson says A LOT about it. This is the minutiae on which this industry turns: walking. Tyson wants them to pretend there's a gorgeous lady at the end of the runway (which there is: Niki) and walk to her. Niki laughs a little when she sees some of the models veer off to the side of the catwalk. Also, she points out, a lot of them got really cheesy, including FRANKIE, who throws off his vest and somehow makes it look hot, even though the shirt he's wearing under the vest is a tuxedo t-shirt. Perry says he's just trying to do his typical runway and bring energy with it. As if those words belong in a sentence together.
The runway standout of the day, they say, is Jacki, who hails from Cleveland and wants to win this competition to win money for her family. Now, they show Jacki, who is quite pretty of course, but...I'm not really feeling her. She's too bouncy, like she's in an Old Navy commercial. Oh, what do I know? Nothing.
It's time to make the first cuts, so Niki and Tyson go back with the New York Models team and review the candidates. They all love Jacki, and they feel like cute Ben, the prison guard, is growing on them, though it's too bad he can't physically grow a bit, since he's a tad short. They agree that Nicholas, The Gay One, is too effeminate. "He could be a good runway walker," says one of the judges, "if he was a girl." Aw, damn. Mercifully, they leave out any mention of his Jheri curl.
They're bored with Yenier and scared of Eden, and think Ronnie's cheesy, and Niki and Tyson get sad when they have to walk out and cut the first six. I am pleased that they don't dick around with this part and try to trick us with the cuts. They pretty much let go of the people they've been ripping on. Among those going home: the irritating Isabelle, the former 250-pound guy, The Gay One, Scary Eden and this, I think, attractive girl named Rosalind, who sobs all the way out the door. She cries that she "was hoping that this would get [her] out there." Here's the thing -- instead of competing for the chance for someone to tell you how to be a model, why don't you just...be a model? Like, go out there, get some experience and try to do it, but not with a camera following you and watching you cry and taping your cell-phone conversations with your mom in Idaho. I know, it's a crazy idea, but that's how actual working models get actual jobs being actual models. Tyson says some really sweet stuff to those that were cut, encouraging them to keep trying, and explaining that rejection is part of the job.
I'm sure those who have left would be happy to be gone if they knew that the portion of the day would be changing into swimsuits, standing in a line, and having their clavicles insulted for being overweight. "To be a supermodel," Tyson says, looking smokily into the camera, "oh, your body gotta be right. In my career, I've spent a lot of time half-naked." And the world thanks you, Tyson Beckford. "I've been there," he adds, "so I know a lot of them were like, 'Man, I wish I didn't eat that donut this morning.'"
So, the half-naked hopefuls line up like parts in an auto plant, and the New York Models people (Erin, David, and Corey) go down the line picking them apart. It's ridiculous and embarrassing and makes me want to eat nine bags of Oreos with a Crisco chaser because, if these girls need to "tone in the lower part, especially in the thigh area" what hope is there for the rest of us, by which I mean myself? My favorite part is when David gestures at Josiah's sternum and tells him he needs to lose weight right there. I am gratified that those with the orange tans are berated for their orangeness. And somehow Ronnie, the most orange among them, suddenly has no tattoos? Was he wearing one of those gross tattoo-sleeve shirts before? God.
Speaking of ridiculous -- remember when we were talking above about the minutiae of this life? Ben does his swimsuit turn on the catwalk and is busted for chewing gum. Tyson reacts like the kid is playing with a loaded handgun. Suddenly, all the fashion professionals are screaming that not chewing gum is Rule #1, and Ben looks like he wants to die. If that's Rule #1, what's the second rule? Don't Let Your Shoulder Blades Get Fat!
, a mock photoshoot! They put a chair in the middle of the room and have the models choose their own partners while a photographer takes photos with a Polaroid. All the photos look like basement porn. Apparently, Jacki is a hit with the gentlemen. She ends up posing with three different guys. There's a lot of ridiculous posing, and really no matter what they do, it looks like MySpace outtakes. UNTIL pageboy Holly picks FRANKIE to pose with her, and though the two of them seem like polar opposites physically and in personality, they take a gorgeous, non-porny photograph together. "I think you've just seen the new Dolce ad," says Tyson.
My Alabama girl, Katy, picks TanRonnie and proceeds to push him across the back of the chair and grab a handful of his frosted hair. "I like it when she dominated me," says Tannie. Katy laughs like she's embarrassed. "I have a boyfriend at home," she drawls, bless her heart, "and we've discussed things like this, so I think everything's gonna be good." Tannie smiles. "And like you," he says, "I also have a boyfriend at home, but I don't think he's got much competition right here." Funny, Tannie, but don't be a bitch about it.
It comes time for Heeda and Military Guy to pose together. Heeda acts like the guy is made of poison. He valiantly tries to get some good poses in, but she obviously has some issues with being touched and keeps backing away from him. Later, she says that he was trying to tell her what to do and she didn't like that, and didn't want to take someone else's advice and then get cut. Do you hear the drums of foreshadowing?
Once again, it's time for a cut. It's really kind of touching to see Niki and Tyson stand there and listen to these agency people rip on the kids. I don't know if it's the way it's edited, but they both seem very sweet and like they feel for, say, Heeda, who the agency people call "jowly" with awful skin, and Katy, whose body they say is "average" and "not right." Tyson particularly wants to stand up for Heeda who, yes, has had a bit of a breakout, but is still quite beautiful and pretty good at this stuff. The very best part is when they point out one girl, Lauren, who they consider to be too underweight. This is after they just told a whole line of people to tone up their ankle fat, or whatever. They argue over this one guy, Drew, and I wish they'd keep him because he is cool-looking, but...it's time to make the five cuts, and he goes. Also going: Heeda; the too-skinny girl; and the military guy, Derick. And, y'all, Derick -- who got blown up in IRAQ -- nearly cries about getting cut off this modeling reality show. Tyson also nearly cries. Then I nearly cry. What is happening? Tyson encourages him, sincerely, not to give up on himself, and then really hugs the guy like he cares. I love Tyson.
The remaining twenty-four contestants, after those other losers left crying, feel like they have got it made in the shade. They cheer when Niki congratulates them for making it so far. "But," she says, and their faces fall, "there are only fourteen places." Snap.
A few days later, Niki and Tyson meet up with the agency folks to make the final cuts. There's some confusing editing here, and please, please God tell me it got all spliced funny, because um, it appears that Tyson says he doesn't think FRANKIE has "got it." That cannot be right. FRANKIE.
David says he thinks Jay, one of the guys from Atlanta, is cute, but that he's not really model-cute; he's boyfriend-cute. They still all love Jacki, and think that Karl's profile is good, but his straight-on is terrible. Evil. So, now they must pick three guys and three girls for an online vote. I am sad to say that for the three guys, two of whom will not make it to the round, the vote was between Igor, Ben, and Josiah! All of whom I love! On the ladies' side: Katy; that tan girl; and another brunette. What? I'm gonna be rooting for Katy, people. And I can clearly pick a winner, because she makes it, along with Ben. I will miss you, Igor and Josiah. And uh, you, too, tan girl and...other.
So, there you have it. Thursday, the competition begins!