In which we meet Project Runway’s Tim Gunn…

Last weekend I went out to dinner with two friends; it was a bitterly cold DC night—the kind of cold that dictates you will be home by 10pm or else your head will fall off due to a severe case of frostbite. Somehow, through a sequence of spontaneous occurrences that involved getting word that Tim Gunn was hosting a private event in the fine establishment next door to our restaurant, getting rejected from Tim’s private event because we didn’t have $100-a-head tickets, and resiliently sneaking back into the aforementioned private party (because Tim is ALWAYS worth the risk of getting arrested), we met Tim Gunn.

Since I spotted Ty Pennington (Extreme Home Makeover) in person (his sun-damaged skin looked like old, beaten leather that had been submissively dyed orange), I’ve been tremendously dubious of any television personality and have adopted a “beautiful people on television are ugly when they appear in person” rule.

but Tim obliterated that tenet.

He was just as courteous, wise, amiable and well-groomed as he appears on Project Runway. At one point I wanted to present him with a half-finished Soduku puzzle that was in my purse, just so I could watch him examine it and furrow his brow doubtfully, then challengingly say to me: “S, make it work.”

Two minutes before I was about to meet him I text messaged a friend asking her what I should say to him. I’d spent so much of the evening plotting, hustling, dodging, and sneaking around to see him that I hadn’t really thought about what we would talk about when we met and I didn’t want to do the cliché fan speech. My friend passionately responded via text with:

“Simply say: Tim I think you are an innovator, one of the few people I know who still understands the importance of class and sophistication. You are one of the few male style icons of our generation."

I looked at her speech and tried to memorize it a bit, but the second my companions and I stepped past Tim’s harried PR handlers and introduced ourselves to him the words of the text message evaporated and our conversation became a chorus of:
“Ahhh Tim! We love you, you’re great!” “Oh Tim, I’m such a mess; help me fix myself!” “Oh stop girls, you ALL look FABULOUS!” “Oh no Tim, YOU look FABULOUS!” “Make it work!” “Oh Tim what are you doing for NYE…” and our conversations kept getting interrupted by newspaper and magazine photographers yelling “Tim, over here!” “Girls, pose, pose!”

He was like a wise uncle, a sensible dad, and a distinguished, older boyfriend all wrapped into the package of a dignified man in a well-tailored suit. His kind and approachable professorial vibe isn’t contrived; it’s a part of his natural appeal. He is so genuine—the personality he plays on Project Runway is really a representation of who he is. When he said my name, I imagined him saying it in the crowded Parsons loft full of cameramen and really ambitious queens that would cut me into a dress pattern with their scissors in order to make it to Bryant Park.

I would love to apply to Project Runway—because it’s a show actually based on innovation and talent. Unfortunately, I can barely stick thread through a boulder-sized needle hole so it isn’t in the cards for me.

The only other reality show I would ever consider would be the Rachel Zoe Project, not because I adore Rachel Zoe (I don’t), but because she seems like a boss that would be easy to handle (mainly due to her emotional neediness). She'd pick you up a latte and a pastry at Starbucks and then she’d start crying about her expensive vintage clothing addiction and negative paparazzi press while intensely encouraging you to eat every last bit of the pastry and enviously asking you how it tastes since she hasn't had food since the 70s.

Photo Credits:
Tim Gunn and Heidi Klum
A Continuous Lean, Flickr