You knowâ¦that was actually not shitty. The challenge was clearly outlined. The judging was coherent and actually based on earth logic. The right rooms finished on top, and the right designer was sent away. And taking into account the diminished expectations that spring to life whenever I hear opening chords of this show's ridiculous theme song, that makes this episodeâ¦not shitty. Well done, Top Design.
Anyhow, the Top Designers have to throw together a chef's private dining room for $42,000 in two days, at the behest of mystery client and Bravo cross-over maven Tom Colicchio. Some designers respond to the challenge better than others. On the "reacts poorly" side of the ledger is poor, increasingly flustered Goil, who has himself a big ol' freakout trying to assemble a hardwood floor for his room; only the soothing ministrations of Sarah the Carpentress keep Goil from launching into another Jan Brady-esque soliloquy about his impending doom. Also faring poorly is Carisa, who is none too pleased when Carl, her formerly sainted carpenter, snaps a beam and nearly takes out the $10,000 table that's the centerpiece of her design. The entire incident upsets her so much, apparently, that she designs a very depressing and incomplete room. But neither of those two fare as poorly as Michael, who not only offers up a mismatched set of chairs and an ugly carpet but also raises the judges ire by refusing their invitation to dish on his fellow contestants. Whatever the reason, he's sent to the happy hunting ground, where so many designers have gone before him.
Doing well for themselves this week are Matt and Andrea, who both design super-looking rooms that meet the criteria outlined at the beginning of the challenge. Imagine that. Andrea's room wins Tom Colicchio's heart, and so she wins the challenge along with a $2,500 shopping spree at Jonathan Adler's store. That'll buy you a couple of vases.
We would be remiss if we did not mention Kelly Wearstler's weekly cry for help: a leg-of-mutton-sleeve shirt from the 1880s, a streetwalker skirt from the 1980s, and a wig from the 1780s. Someone close to this woman, please -- go to her closet right now and get rid of all similar sources of embarrassment. I do not want to turn on my TV next week to see Kelly Wearstler in a tube top and a hoop skirt, sporting a hairstyle from the Patti LaBelle collection.
Previously, on Top Design: You're the One That I Want: Carisa and Michael fought like cats having to share the same burlap sack. Goil wept because nobody listened to him. Except for us. Over and over again. Oh, and somewhere along the way, dueling party tents were designed, and judgments were made, and Erik was sent home for some reason or another. Gotta kick off someone, I guess. That leaves just five -- five! -- Top Designers to compete for a the public acclaim, funky-looking automobile, cold, hard cash, and the sense of relief that you didn't waste 10 weeks of your life just to lose to Carisa. Let's meet the gang!
Top Designers, roll call! Whacked! Goil! Carisa! Whacked! Whacked! Matt! Andrea! Whacked! Whacked! Michael! Whacked! Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaacked! Any designer don't want to get later'd better clear on out the back.
Currently, on Top Design: Carisa beings the proceedings by telling us that only five designers remain -- someone wasn't paying attention during the Top Designer Roll Call -- and feels confident of her ability to outlast the other four: "Regardless of the result, it's been a phenomenal experience." Well, for one of us, at any rate. Andrea pours some coffee into a cup. ("This cup provided by Seattle's Best Coffee. The next time you're trapped in an L.A. loft with other designers on some poorly conceived reality project, poor yourself a nice cup of Seattle's Best Coffee, and sob the morning away. Seattle's Best Coffee -- ask for it by name!") and expresses that she sure doesn't want to get eliminated, no sir. I guess I'm not expecting any significant insight into the human condition ("Last week, when I was putting together the Bacardi Limon party tent, I finally for the first time began to understand the complex nature of my relationship with my parents!"), but I'd like something more than bland assertions that would be spectacularly obvious to anyone just surfing by the show for the first time. You don't want to get eliminated this week? Really? Because I was expecting you to say something like, "Well, it's been a good run, but I think I'll pack it in. I'll see you assholes later."
Over in the boys' loft, they're doing something far less irritating -- teasing Goil about last week's Jan Brady meltdown, in which the unspooling architect compared himself to the Brady clan's put-upon middle sister. "I'm the oldest, and [Michael's] the youngest, and he's the middle, Jan," Matt tells his roommates. "Shut it, Jan," says Goil, who seems to be playing along, but you can sense his crippling inner rage. "I'm really Cousin Oliver," Michael observes; the editors surreptitiously add a rimshot to the generic background music. Let's leave the classic TV shout-outs to the professionals, okay, Mike?