You get me closer to Oh My God.
This is the section of the recap that explores, with keen awareness of fiscal trends and a calculator fixed to the ON/C position, the limitations of the Top Model production budget. Results are calibrated by qualified actuaries and double-checked by NASA engineers. After extensive research and an HB pencil worn down to the nub, the results of this week’s cost-cutting machinations are as follows:
Brittney’s hair extensions.
Thank you, that is all.
Me Talky Proper And That
Because modules and that talk good.
• When Sophie kicks up a stink about her impending haircut, Josh comments that “She’s very attached to her hair”. A tumbleweed stops rolling down the street for a second, looks up, and says “duh”.
• As guests arrive at the challenge party, Chantal gushes “I was so excited because people were walking in”. Also exciting to Chantal: milk products, hexagons and the colour blue.
• When Amanda makes a mistake during the challenge, she says “I know I’m gonna get kicked at elimination. Fair up the clacker”.* I would love to go to a fair up the clacker. I’d steer well clear of the Dagwood Dogs, though.
Make Me Over, Red Rover
I love three things about life. Gin, cheese, and makeover episodes.*
• First, Josh turns up at the Module Mansion in a two-tone tuxedo jacket and tells the girls that this week will be all about hair. Sophie says “I was so nervous, because I didn’t know what was going to happen”. Well, my darling, considering every third word out of Josh’s mouth is ‘hair’, and considering hair makeovers occur in episode 3 of every Top Model series in every country on every planet since the dawn of time, I’m guessing it’s something to do with horse-riding and popcorn.
• Josh introduces last year’s winner and person upon whom all adorable things are now modelled, Tahnee, who is here to direct the modules’ ‘before’ shots. After telling the girls how pretty they look, she then says “Before we take the before shots, we’re going to keep it real and take all your make-up off with this Nivea product placement opportunity”. SO ADORABLE. She then encourages everyone to ham it up in front of the camera, even suggesting that Kathryn try a “Paris Hilton mug shot”. I’m not certain that mentioning ham, Paris Hilton and photography in the same breath is a totally good idea. Jessica misunderstands and channels Lindsay Lohan instead.
This is what I think of your three months in jail, bitches.
• The Fashion Fiestas drop the girls off at the Joh-tox Bailey salon in Double Bay, where they each learn their follicular fate.
o Joanna, Ashton and Kathryn all have their hair parted exactly one millimetre further to the left than usual. Joh Bailey charges them three thousand dollars.
o Kelsey is given a dense fringe and a tousled, ‘rock chick’ mane. Like Suzi Quatro, perhaps, or Ella Hooper. Or y’know – any of the other short ones.
o Chantal isn’t rapt with her darker shade and new style, saying it makes her feel like an old woman, and that “I think a model should not need to cover her face, because she’s beautiful, that’s why she’s a model”. And on page two of Chantal’s Big Book Of Circular Arguments, we discover that cans of beans should have beans inside, because they are beans, and that’s what makes them cans of beans. I think it looks amazeballs. Yeah, that’s right. Amazeballs. Because I have just bought a thesaurus from the Things The Kids Are Saying These Days book co-op.
o Kimbo says she has to pee, so excited is she about her new short, red ‘do. Depends and Huggies start a bidding war for advertising space for the rest of the series. Kimberly’s hair takes a while to grow on me (Ha! Grow on me! I’m kind of like Pun Santa), but I only have to look at her ‘before’ shot for a second or two to register the massive improvement. Kathryn comments that she “doesn’t look like a Gold Coast bogan any more”. The Gold Coast Tourism Board cancels their advertising spots for the rest of the series.
o Jessica’s hair becomes straight and sleek with a dense fringe, which somehow manages to make her chin look even smaller. It’s like she borrowed her chin from a photograph of someone standing on the horizon.
o Brittney is given masses of hair extensions which gives her what Josh calls ‘Versace hair’. Hey wow, my hair’s dead too! I totally have Versace hair! That’s exciting.
o Sophie is so angry about her slightly-darker, slightly-shorter haircut that she almost gets some natural colour in her face. She says “I feel right now not myself”, to which Yoda responds “Get over it, you should”. She pouts. She cries. She complains to her mum that she doesn’t feel hot any more (but sure, we’ve all done that). Once back at the house, she cuts up some blonde extensions she brought along in her suitcase (but sure, we’ve all done that) and attaches them to her head. ATTACHES HER SPARE EXTENSIONS TO HER HEAD. She says that “the end goal of this procedure is to have some blonde showing through”. Honey. Your name is Sophie, you pronounce your esses like a hissing kettle and you wear thigh-high suede boots. You could have your head in an opaque bucket full of tar and there’d still be blonde showing through. Joanna says what we’re all thinking about this scenario. Joanna smacks herself in the face with a notebook.
In the modelling world, this is known as 'reading'.
A Sarah-Mail arrives containing a quote from Lou Reed. Now, if you look at your watches, you’ll see that the big hand is on the Brittney Doesn’t Know Who Lou Reed Is, and the little hand is on Face Palm. Joanna, would you like to do the honours?
The scrags are whisked to the Overseas Passenger Terminal in the Fashion Fiestas, where Josh (whose theme this week is ‘lapels’) informs them that they’ll be taking part in a party for Vivid Sydney, a festival curated by Lou Reed. Brittney says “It was exciting to find out that he was there. But I still don’t know who he is”. This is like a blind man being excited about buying Ansel Adams negatives in a garage sale or, for the lowbrow amongst you, like Ke$ha being excited about a new range of whore-reducing spray.
In front of 400 guests, the modules are required to be part of a “living light sculpture”, which entails standing very, very still in futuristic, bedazzled post-punk garb, throwing shapes and not talking to a douche with a microphone who thinks it’s a good idea to interview them while they’re being watched and judged by Saint Sarah and Emma Balfour.
All the girls are given bright orange, teased hairpieces to wear, which Sophie describes as “rank” and adds articulately “They look like pom poms like cheerleading or something”. Josh warns them all that there should be no “scratching, touching or fiddling with these hairpieces”. You know what could quickly and easily solve that problem, Josh?
And you call yourself a stylist.
Kimbo proves that it’s not just her hair that’s all sophisticated and shit now, it’s also her vocabulary. “I got to wear this high-waisted, suede, push-studded g-string diaper-looking thing. I was rather uncomfortable wearing it because I had this cow going up my backside”. Aaaand that would be me having an aneurism caused by the sudden rush of jokes to my head.
Now, I know that watching a bunch of tease-haired modules standing still for two hours may sound interesting, but I’m momentarily distracted by the crumbs in the bottom of my toaster. Kelsey wins the challenge. Kimbo thinks she should have won the challenge. Next.
• I’m ninety-eight percent certain that Sssophie spends her entire life with her flesh-coloured mouth wide open. Fine if you’re trying to attract gentlemen who enjoy holding onto your ears, but perhaps not so fine if you’re trying to avoid people asking you if you’re going to the Emerald City via the Yellow Brick Road to ask the Wizard for some courage.
Tell me I'm wrong.
• When the weekly challenge is over, Josh says “Okay, girls – job’s finished, but I need you to leave like models”. Be sure to leave a trail of broken hearts and vomit, now.
• If you’re short (like Kelsey) and you really want to be taller (like Kelsey does), you know what works? Lying on the floor and getting people to pull on your arms and legs. And you know what I’m doing right now? Not telling the truth.
The main two things you need to know about this week’s close-up, mostly bare-shouldered beauty shoot are:
1. That the photographer is Jason Capobianco, who is welcome in my pants anytime; and
2. That the stylist is Claudia Navone, whose accent, as soon as it’s medically possible, will be installed as the voice in my head. Remember: it’s not a “hairdo”. It’s a “her-dew”. Sigh.
• Say what you like about Sophie, she’s fucking beautiful. There. I just said everything I like about Sophie.
• Ashton’s shots are fantastic. Fantastic for an ad campaign for Quaaludes.
• Amanda can just pack up all her gorgeous in some matching luggage and go to hell. I love this woman. Granted, I’m pretty much a sucker for anyone who says “fair up the clacker”, but goddamn. Claudia agrees, commenting that Amanda is a “vanderful sooprise”. Oh, Claudia.
• Joanna, with an off-centre towering bun, an editorial boob-clutch and a sly wink, causes Claudia to comment that she is a “leedle meenx”. Oh, Claudia.
• Kathryn does her usual magic trick of being borderline meh until she steps in front of a camera, when she becomes amazing. Chantal has trouble relaxing her lips, and Brittney looks great during the shoot, but her final photo is lacklustre. LIKE HER EXTENSIONS.
• Kelsey rocks the mo-freakin’ bejeezus out of her shoot, causing Claudia to compare her to a lioness and say “I fink Kailsee ees dynamite”. No you are, Claudia. You are.
• Jessica’s final shot is stunning. She’s growing on me every week. Growing like her chin isn’t.
• Kimbo gets upset when Josh tells her she’s over-thinking things and advises her to turn her brain off. She would, but the off switch is located between her buttocks, and there’s still a cow up there.
The scrags sashay into the Eliminarium, where they’re greeted by Saint Sarah in a gorgeous fifties-style black and white number, who only just makes it in time from a fundraiser for the Suddenly Unemployed Photo-Retouchers Foundation. Membership fluctuates considerably. Saint Sarah dutifully lists the prizes, which I think this year include an eight-piece saucepan set and a novelty barbecue apron, and then introduces the judges. Charlotte Dawson is wearing leopard across her boobs and cougar everywhere else, guest judge Emma Balfour actually has some interesting input, and Chest Smith is in a black t-shirt with a v-neck that reaches to the earth’s core, matched with a military-style jacket. Sir, yes sir, Major Chest! Three bags full, Major Chest! Except there are just two bags full. Full of nipples. Shiny Alex Perry has his shirt buttoned higher than usual, presumably as a white flag surrender to Chest Smith’s magnificent lumps. He’s been busy making facial hair schnitzel, though, and was nice enough to give me the recipe – take a cue ball, dip it in egg wash and flour, then buff it and roll it in stubble. Garnish with sunglasses.
Photos are flashed, girls are grilled, and the deliberation begins, with the usual generous dollops of awesome:
• Charlotte says of Ashton’s shot: “I don’t feel any emotion, it’s just dead”. At least, I think she’s talking about Ashton’s shot, and not the nerve endings in her own forehead. Either/or.
• Running on a general botox theme, Shiny Alex says of Kathryn’s shot that he “admires anyone who can cock one eyebrow”. Pfffft. He said “cock”. During deliberation, he also adds that Kathryn is “filthy expensive”. This phrase will be on a t-shirt I will be wearing within the hour.
• Shiny Alex then describes Brittney as “a lump in a photo”. I love it when Shiny Alex drags out his ‘lump’. Oh. Wow. I see how that sounds now. Sorry.
• Of Kelsey, Charlotte comments “The only problem here is that Alex is going to call her a midget”. Alex says “She’s a midget”. I love this show.
The modules swish their way back into the room, and Saint Sarah calls their names until only Ashton and Brittney remain. Ashton is told that her beauty is not translating into her work, and Brittney is told that she’s taking small steps, but that the judges need to see big steps. Lady, she’s like, fourteen feet tall. She takes big steps just by chewing.
A year and a half passes, and Ashton is pushed off the cliff. Ker-splash! Bye, Ashton. Mind you don’t mess up your barely-perceptible haircut on the way out.
Next week, some stuff happens, some other stuff happens, and I forgot to watch the bit that tells me what happens next week. Sad. Mad. My bad.
* Yes, yes, I know the correct spelling is ‘cloaca’. You do realise this is a blog about teenage models, right? What are you even doing here? Why don’t you go read the encyclopaedia or something, geek-features?
**Penises are pretty good, too.