Remember Project Runway? Well, It’s Making a Comeback
Graphic by Carly Witteman.
I hopped on the “Project Runway” bandwagon in 2012. As a second grader with a new paper doll fashion design set from F.A.O Schwarz, I had turned to “Project Runway” for the ingenuity and fervor I hoped to harness on my construction paper and glitter: elegant drapery, intricate bodices, exquisite tailoring … all brilliantly executed before the lights dim for the start of the runway show. When Tim Gunn announces the formidable “Your time starts now!” in his iconic, velvety bravado, the contestants appear to defy the first law of thermodynamics and make something out of nothing.
This particular season, Fabio Costa, the future runner-up, was my favorite. His designs had an air of effortlessness that can only be achieved with an exorbitant amount of effort. He boasted a broad bank of technical skills that were almost too acute to be noticed. Costa’s personality was understated; he was never the loudest, most stressed, most rambunctious member of the crew, but his quiet gracefulness demanded attention during each final show. Perhaps he was the one who got me hooked.
“Project Runway” season 10 finalists. From the left: Dmitry Sholokhov (winner), Fabio Costa (runner-up), Melissa Fleis (3rd), Christopher Palu (4th)
Or maybe it was the second-hand, heart-pumping adrenaline. During those final hours in the studio, fingers are pricked by sewing needles, multicolored thread is held in between teeth like floss and fabric scraps fly through the air like confetti in true New Year's Day fashion. The workspace is utter and complete chaos, but out of the carnage emerges whatever number of brilliantly dressed models strutting past the panel of judges with such nonchalance that you almost forget they were zipped in just minutes before in the dark wings backstage.
Most likely, though, it was exclusive access to the secret deliberations amongst those I viewed as sovereigns of aesthetics and elegance that fueled my addiction.
Among the panel of judges that season was designer Michael Kors, whose Rockefeller Center store was one of my favorite places to window shop at as a kid; Nina Garcia, fashion editor at Marie Claire magazine, with the luscious, L’Oréal-commercial-level curtain bangs, and the runway-owning, beauty-honing Heidi Klum who regularly drew “Ooos,” “Ahhs,” and likely some “Why haven’t I thought of that?”s when she approached the seated contestants in a stunning new get-up to announce the next challenge.
Then, of course, there was workroom mentor Tim Gunn. In all his clean-shaved, double-breasted grandeur, Tim Gunn could make a designer question their entire existence with an only slightly perceptible side-eye at their dressed mannequin. As the panel delivered criticisms with the same vitriolic authority of Miranda Preasely’s cerulean speech in A Devil Wears Prada, I was taking notes as to what was “in,” and what was “out,” grateful I had them to show me.
Tim Gunn and Heidi Klum on the “Project Runway” runway.
Looking back, though, I realize I completely forgot about “Project Runway” midway through season 17. I’m not sure how a defining tradition in my life up to that point had dissolved into nothingness without my noticing, but one day I just … stopped. And in talking to some fellow “Project Runway” fans who started watching around the time that I did, it became clear that I was not the only one. As for why, well, I have a couple of theories:
I was in the spring of my sophomore year of high school, a safe distance from my wobbly-kneed, diffident self who bought white Fila Destroyers because Olivia Jade told me to. I was ready to make my own decisions about what I wanted to wear, sourcing Instagram, Pinterest and the New York City streets for a style that felt distinctly me. I no longer cared about, nor even agreed with what the judges thought was “in,” or “out.” Without this sense of getting special, exclusive access to the gainful opinions of fashion's elite, I no longer saw much of a point.
Heidi Klum and Tim Gunn left to pursue other opportunities after 16 years with Project Runway. Without the uncontested stalwarts at the helm for the 17th season, it seemed as if the show had lost its identity. This is not to say that season 17’s subsequent rebrand was all bad. Elaine Welteroth, former editor of Teen Vogue and a Black woman, joined the judging panel which I found extremely exciting. There was far more emphasis on designing for women of all sizes, reflected both in the models themselves and the commentary amongst the judges and contestants. And, on top of that, the general aesthetics of the show in terms of its graphics, new workroom and new living spaces were upgraded and modernized in a way that felt distinctly ~2019~. But, despite the fact that Karlie Kloss was a respectable replacement as host, she and Chrsitain Siriano were not able to recreate the magic that Klum and Gunn’s obvious chemistry and longtime friendship added to the show. The nostalgia-factor had officially dissolved.
I have to say, though, I miss it. I keep updated on what designers are sending down the runway, but without religiously watching the show, I lose access to the creative process: the idea conception, the sketching, the sewing and fitting. “Project Runway” inspired me to try and make something out of nothing, create something innovative and unique, even if it was just out of construction paper. If all else is lost, maybe that organic experimentalism and infectious imaginative energy will bring me back. At BravoCon 2022 this past October, Elaine Welteroth and Christian Siriano announced that Project Runway’s 20th season will be an all-star reunion. To all my fellow strays out there, who’s with me?