The Mindless Shitshow That Is The Fashion Show

As a frequent watcher of all things Bravo TV, I’ve come to appreciate the brilliance of certain programs. I’m referring, of course, to The Real Housewives series – a franchise that gives us the small screen equivalent of a car wreck (a Mack Truck pile-up, in the case of New Jersey), and allows us rubberneck sans the risk of personal injury. This is television at its best.

Watch What Happens long enough, however, and you’ll see it at its worst. I’m referring, of course, to The Fashion Show. Oy. Effing. Vey.

I saw the first episode of The Fashion Show twice. The first time around I attempted to multi-task, and sanding my spackled walls proved more interesting than the asinine noise on-screen. Having absolutely no idea of what transpired between Isaac Mizrahi’s whining, Kelly Rowland’s awkward attempt at hosting and the designers themselves, I gave it another go – if I was going to give this show the verbal bitchslap I knew it deserved, I had to force myself to watch one whole episode in its entirety.

The Fashion Show is obvs meant to fill the Project Runway void: I’d have less of a problem with it if it were more like its predecessor. I didn’t enjoy Project Runway because I give a shit about affording fledgling designers the opportunity to overcharge for their material spawn. I watched it for Nina’s unapologetic bitchiness, Heidi’s hilarious accent, and Tim Gunn’s Yoda-esque ability to make it all mean something (at least until he got his own show, which shelved all his endearing qualities). On Project Runway, Tim Gunn’s passion for fashion wasn’t just infectious – it came from a positive place. Tim didn’t focus on the drama component of Fashion; he focused on the Fashion itself. He didn’t get the contestants to do their best work by unloading on them critical tirades; he used his extensive knowledge to nudge them toward success.

To watch The Fashion Show is to witness the opposite. Isaac Mizrahi is more interested in hearing his bloated ass talk than in his contestants’ designs; their failures give him an excuse to rant, and his pissed-off state is supposed to up the stakes.

I can’t write a script for shit, but I’ve dabbled in enough screenwriting to know that in order for drama to exist, the audience has to CARE. Every scene needs conflict, but no scene means jack if its unsubstantiated by a solid plot. Few things says fucked-up priorities like “Competition is the New Black.” The Fashion Show doesn’t just prioritize conflict over content; it’s stupid enough to openly admit it.

To replace a solid show like Project Runway with a subpar version of itself is lazy, but understandable – the first one made you lots o’ dough, the second one’s guaranteed to net you some more. To replace it with something that revels in Fashion’s inherent bitchiness instead of doing what it pretends to do – unearth talented, unknown designers – is lazy, idiotic, and grounds for pink slips to Bravo’s development execs who, really, should know better. Negative, materialistic bullshit is, like, so last season.