Previously on Chicks Dig Vehicular Symbolism: The Robert Plotkin Story: Challenged to present "envy" through fashion, Rob took the road to Freudville, decking out his model in a menswear-inspired number heavy with both meaning and piping. She looked like Hermaphro The Androgynous Clown until he gave her a cigar, and then it all made sense. Get it? A cigar? Envy? Freud? It's a meditation on the mystical dick and whatnot. Anyway, then the final six were assigned to work on a "collection" with the soft-spoken, strangely hypnotic Kevin as their leader. Incidentally, I completely believe that Kevin could convince a flock of bored college students to call him "Papa" and spend their lives waiting to be delivered to a very fashionable version of Shangri-La. The plan to outfit the models with poncho-like "pods" went astray, causing the "collection" to crash, and at judging time, Wendy (important fact!) blamed Kevin for the failure. Kevin went home, but only after (important fact!) hanging around unsupervised in the workroom packing up his stuff while probably thinking (important fact!) about how much he resented Wendy (important fact!).
Credits. It's hard to imagine how little I must know in order to be brought up to speed via exposition provided by Heidi Klum.
We return to the Atlas apartments, where Kara and Wendy are primping in front of the mirror. As Wendy dabs herself with mascara, Kara interviews -- with the customary mannequin behind her, which is decoratively flashing its comely breasts over her shoulder -- that "Wendy decided to bash Kevin and his leadership skills" at the last judging. Wendy, looking pale and scraggly and badly dyed and thus even more than usual like someone who sells squash and porn along the interstate, interviews that she "personally felt that Kevin was the weakest link" on the team. She certainly has the lingo down. Say "under the radar"! Say "we have a connection"! Rob interviews that there are five people left. Which means two more eliminations until the final three. Chicks dig guys who can do math.
Super-hyper-flash-modo shots return us to the Parsons School of Design, and we join the remaining contestants in the runway room, where they are obediently lined up like second-graders waiting for an assembly at the world's smallest school for the unconventionally dressed. Heidi strolls down the runway toward them, five brown-paper-wrapped parcels in her arms. That's some crazy zipper-dependent black dress very nearly keeping Heidi from being able to walk. She delicately drops to one knee in the only way she possibly can in that impractical garment, and the contestants approach her to take their marked packages. You can see in this shot that Wendy is sporting -- along with her sleeveless black top, black pants, and nondescript Gray Something tied around her waist -- a pair of weirdly gaudy red sneaker-shoes. There is no right time for those shoes, other than an interpretive striptease about your life as Tommy Lee's personal trainer. Why, Wendy? Why? ["I...was planning to get some of those for the gym. But only for the gym! I wouldn't wear them out! Should I still not do it? What if I got them in grey?" -- Wing Chun] The Heidi-natrix tells the team that there are only five of them left (thus totally stepping on Rob's role as Counting Guy), and that they should all be proud for outlasting Kevin. Well, maybe that's just what I'm thinking, because Kevin was really annoying.