This may well sound heretical to most of the members of my sex, but I’m going to say it and risk reproach anyway: Enough with the shoes.
I know. I know. I’m a woman. An adult, human, American woman. I am supposed to love shoes. Not just love them; lerve them. Flove them. Adore them. Kneel before their beauty, tremble in their glow. Stop dead at store windows displaying a perfect Prada pump; shiver with delight at the flash of a red Louboutin sole. But lately: well, the whole shoe mania thing is leaving me cold. And a little (dare I say it?) pissed off. Continue reading







Well, Crassers, we’re whittling down the sewtestants. We saw Raoul come back and get booted again, and we saw Elena begin to lose her marbles in the weirdest way. Anyway, what’s up tonight? Apparently, the designers have to “create new looks for women who have just gotten new hairstyles.” Actually, this is the “real woman challenge,” so we’re going to be treated to many comments about how awful it is to design for women who aren’t a size 0. Join us in the comments as we snark and drink and snark some more!
