Does anybody still watch America’s Next Top Model? No? Fine, whatevs. Unbelievably there was a time when watching 12 underweight, malnourished and grossly over-confident girls harp on about who “wants it” more was compulsive viewing.
Well, compulsive viewing for people with too much time on their hands that is. Normal people would find it more entertaining and fulfilling to throw some tramps under Waterloo bridge a few crusts of bread and watch them wrestle for it.
Alas, ANTM is just as embarrassingly addictive and chock full’o pricks as X-Factor and The Apprentice but if you thought Simon Cowell and Lord Suralan were obsessed with making their respective shows all about them, you’ve clearly never encountered the narcissistic world of Tyra “MEMEMEMEMEMEME” Banks.
D’you know what happens when a extremely beautiful person seems to only exist to tell you how beautiful they are? Well, apart from wanting to tear your own jaw off and throw it at them, the words soon begin to lose all meaning. The same can be said for Ms Banks who’s so obsessed with telling us how successful she was that no-one believes her anymore.
Despite all that ANTM is still a perfect way to waste an hour right behind gnawing your own arm off and this series is no different. We’ve got the plus size girl who says she’ll fight to get into the industry, only to collapse in tears when she realises nothing fits. There’s the one who won’t stop crying because she misses her child. The one who defied her God-fearing parents by getting knocked up before she was legal and thinking that getting married makes it all OK. So basically it’s the same as always but that’s what makes it so great.
This week, the girls were asked to create chemistry with their ‘noted’ fashion photographer Nigel Barker in preparation for a photoshoot with a fat and unfunny comedian.
Admittedly these ladies are quite young but we’re unsure whether saying “let’s get naked” is the best way to create chemistry. A sexual assault yes, but not chemistry. The main photoshoot was shot in NYC’s infamous Canal Street, the go to location for designer knock-offs faker than Tyra’s ponytail.
The objective was to work with the ridiculous styling to sell the clothes. Need a visual? Imagine what Mr Blobby would look like if he slimmed down, draped himself in Claire’s Accessories and stole Rod Stewart’s barnet from 1976.
Apparently that’s “high fashion”.
Anywhoo, Tatianna couldn’t do it and was sent home. The preview of next week promises to show us something we’ve never seen; loud black women arguing.
CAN’T WAIT.