Sparkle Motion
His right cheek was throbbing.
"That's for letting Daniel lose, you jackass!" A robust young woman with a 10-pound brick of a purse stomped off down 5th Avenue, her desire for revenge clearly satisfied.
Tim Gunn just sighed, adjusted his blazer, and continued walking down the street, trying to remain oblivious to the stares around him. From his left pants pocket a chirping noise sounded, allowing him to duck into the nearest alley and out of sight.
He flipped open his phone, "Tim Gunn."
"Tim?" said a slightly nasal voice. "Tim, you didn't answer your phone a moment ago, are you all right?"
"I'm quite all right, Michael." A girl passed by, giving him a curious gaze and he turned further into the corner, taking care not to brush his sleeve against the wall. "Just a little encounter in the street."
"Yes, well, can't be too sure nowadays." Michael Kor's voice sounded far away, either he was flying or it was Single's Night at William Sonoma and he'd been distracted by a coffee maker. Michael never could resist those baristas. "Will you be at the meeting tonight?"
"Yes, I'll come as soon as possible."
"Nina's making her famous Strawberry Tarts, don't be late, you know how Heidi gets when she's pregnant."
Tim had indeed seen the aftermath of a Klum pastry craving. Those poor children at the bake sale never even saw it coming.
"I'll take care to get there early, Michael. Goodbye."
He hung up the phone, and tried to merge back into the impossible wall of pedestrian traffic. If he wanted to make it back to his apartment and then to Parson's before Heidi got there, he'd have to hurry. He snapped his fingers, and went on his way.
~~~~
Tim occasionally regretted ever agreeing to host Project Runway at Parsons. After filming and teaching, he'd considered just moving into his office in the building, but only a sense of propriety and a slight fear of the night janitor had stopped him.
As he approached the entrance, he could make out in the distance the tall silhouette of Heidi Klum. So he had made it in time.
Heidi, however, stopped to sniff the air, and then was bearing down on the entrance with alarming rapidity. The ground was almost shaking. With perpetual graceful elegance, he scrambled up the stairs and heaved himself into the main meeting room.
"Heidi's coming," he told the room, as if that wasn't obvious.
Michael was already seated, a platoon of Strawberry Tarts beside him. Nina was standing near a mirror, quickly flipping through the newest Cosmo.
"What trash," she exclaimed 15 seconds later and tossed it into the waste paper basket. "Hello Tim. Michael, is Joan here yet?"
"She's right behind you," he answered from his strawberry fortress.
Joan Kors emerged from behind Nina, looking identical to Michael minus the red mustache, and with a sheepish grin on her face. "Sorry, I fell asleep."
The thunder of the floor announced the arrival of Ms. Klum. "Taaaaarts," she growled as she plunged into the room. She eyed Michael with ferocious hunger.
"My dear, Nina has made you your own." Joan smoothly intercepted. Heidi set to work on the plate of baked goods, and within a moment was back to her usual self.
"Sorry,” she said daintily, “you know how I lose control when I'm pregnant,” and went into the washroom to clean up.
"She wasn't pregnant when she ate that factory of Twinkies,” Michael stage whispered.
"I have a high metabolism!" was heard over the sound of running water.
"Are the others coming?" Nina inquired.
Heidi walked out, looking much fresher and Tim sat down in his regular position at the head of the table. "Well the guest judge is incommunicado, and I believe our newest members will be late today. Shall we bring this meeting to order?"
Heidi lifted the industrial sewing machine now blocking her seat and sat down, glaring at it. "Yes, I believe those of us mature enough would like to."
"Oh don't take it personally Heidi," the sewing machine said sulkily, and in a flash Michael returned to his normal form.
Joan glared, and sat down next to him. Michael hissed, "Well at least I didn't fall asleep as a mirror." Nina, by the time this was done, had already gone to pick up her dry-cleaning downtown and eaten a Cosi salad, and was now lighting a cigarette with her perfectly polished nail.
"People, are we ready now?" Tim asked exasperated, "Do you realize how much empathy sucks when forced to reside in a room with you three?" He banged a ruler on the table.
The meeting of the Fabulous SuperFriends was about to begin.
~~~
Tim's slip into colloquial language revealed his growing frustration, and with a final round of glares between the Kors and the Klum, and a last bored sigh from Nina, they settled down to business.
"All right, shall we begin?" Tim looked calm again. "The question of whether or not we prefer the Badgley Mischka costumes or the Dior is now on the table. This will need a simple majority vote."
"Dior," Heidi answered, "It moved better, and did not tear when I picked up a car." Blessed with super strength, super senses, and super hotness, Heidi “The Body” Klum’s only known weakness was prolonged contact with off-the-rack clothes.
"Badgley Mischka," replied Michael and Joan "She's Really His Sister" Kors in tandem. The "Wonder Twins" which they called themselves despite loud and long protests from everyone else in the group, had the power to become design accessories at will, along with the power of flying and a resistance to heat. This, unfortunately, led them to often fall asleep while tanning.
"Because I thought it made you look slimmer, Michael."
"Yes, and because I thought it hid your wrinkles better, Joan."
A pair of shears began to snip at Michael until Tim intervened and placed Joan under a re-transformation spell. Michael, meanwhile, had moved to the opposite side of the table, saying " I told you you should have used the anti-aging formula, but nooo, it was tested on animals. They weren't even Earth animals, Snow Miser."
"Moving on," Nina interrupted, "I vote Badgley Mischka as well. Their fireproofing has improved by leaps and bounds since their last submission. Much more pleasing."
Nina "The Orange Falcon" Garcia's gifts had manifested themselves late in life, and while no one said it officially, many of the members suspected she had done so through pure force of will-- the super speed because she was always so busy, and the pyrokinesis because she tended to forget her lighter. Tim had suggested the name "Phoenix" as her code name, or perhaps "Firebird", but ultimately Nina found both words too vulgar and instead created her own. (Anne Slowey completely agreed with her when Nina told her about it later over mojitos.)
Tim made a notation and then added “And I shall vote for--"
BLAM!
The door, barely on its hinges after Heidi, cracked in two. Several figures bustled in, brushing off foliage from their jackets, and hurried to the conference table.
"Are we late? I vote Posen," gasped Jay "Shockbitch" McCarroll. His powers to control energy were a great aid to the group; he also was responsible for coining the term Fabulous SuperFriends at the league's inception after PR1.
Tim would always secretly hate him for that.
(He had preferred "Alliance of Professional Colleagues En Vogue.")
"Zac Posen is not an option, Jay," Heidi said.
"Well fuck that, he should be!" Jay had seated himself to the right of Michael, and was creating mini-lightening storms around the plate of tarts.
"Jay, uklidnit se," said Chloe "Lot 8" Dao, or at least one version of her did. Sometimes Chloe forgot to unDuplicate herself, and while Duplication was a useful power to have, eight Chloes fighting over eight bolts of bright blue fabric was not something Tim ever wanted to witness again. He almost lost his eyesight that day at MOOD.
Everyone was glaring at her though, and so Tim intervened with "Chloe, please stop with the parading. We are not all omnilingual, and you are aware of this."
After eight identical eyerolls, Chloe(s) leaned back in the chair(s) and became just herself again. “Better?” she said.
Tim fought the urge to just magic them all into turtles. "Your votes, please?"
"Dior," they both responded.
"And I am voting for Badgley Mischka, leaving us with a 4-3 vote. Good job, everyone,” Tim "Tim Gunn" Gunn said as he made yet another notation on his notepad. He was the leader of the Allian--, er the Fabulous SuperFriends by default, as no one else could stop sniping long enough to vote on anyone else. His empathy and the ability to heal allowed him to portray a kind-hearted, concerned father figure to the rest of the group, while his magical abilities left him secure in the knowledge that if he really needed to, he could kill them all. "I will contact them tomorrow."
Despite Heidi's look of hate (or hunger, it was hard to tell under those bangs), the rest of the table seemed to agree with the decision. Time for a vodka break.
~~
"And now our last, and most serious, order of business--the reappearance of C.N. & Boaring.” Tim spread several photographs (and a few fashion magazines) out over the table. "These were take just days ago in the heart of Paris. You can see that the man in the third picture, in tweed, is clearly Boaring. And one picture down, with the plastic zebra shirt--"
"It looks like it's Cheepno?" Heidi said curiously, as she studied the photographs.
"Boaring..." Chloe leaned in closer to look at the photos. "That's who Jay came in to help defeat, correct?"
"Damn straight," Jay said, cocking his large pink cowboy hat.
"Yes, and you to fight against Cheep, last season. But now, well, from these pictures BRAVO sent it looks as if our deepest fears are being realized..." Tim said gravely.
A hush fell over the entire group. Even Jay's lightening storms paused, mid-strawberry-strike.
"Cheep and Boaring," Nina whispered finally, aghast. "We could never stand up against such a powerful alliance. Separate, yes, but together..."
Several more moments of silence followed, until Tim quietly coughed and said, "In light of this, BRAVO has recommended we push up the timetable."
A flame arose from the other end of the table, a chair crashed through the window, and a pair of pattern books flew into the air. Two Chloes caught them.
Joan was shouting, pages flipping with rage. "They can't be serious, we just finished finding a new one and--"
Jay cut in, hair on end,” Where are we going to find someone else, we already had half the superhero-designer world try out! We can't be taking leftovers--"
"--there are challenges in the day, rescues in the night, these things take time to plan, and--"
"--you ended up with me the first time, you can't top that and--"
KAPOW!
The designers looked up dizzily from their new positions on the ground.
Straightening his jacket, Tim continued. "People, this is not an option. We, by ourselves, are no match for Cheep and Boaring. Do we want the world to face the horrors we have seen them commit?"
Everyone reluctantly shook his or her heads.
"All right, then we need another. Let’s make it work."
"I agree, Timothy," a new voice cut in. Everyone turned to see Diane von Furstenberg --no, Richard Tyler--no, Vera Wang walk in.
"The Judge," Chloe whispered to Jay. The Guest Judge, shape shifter extraordinaire and mystical being that caused supreme fear in all those around it. Sometimes crazy, always late.
"I apologize for my tardiness, Timothy," the Judge said, though it meant no such thing, "but I believe I must agree with you in this matter. We cannot fight Cheep and Boring alone."
With halting moves, the other members picked themselves off the floor and sat back around the table. The Strawberry Tarts were beyond repair.
Tim remained grim. "Agreed. So do we want to begin another competition, on whose outcome the fate of the world rests?"
"He can't just say 'Are we gonna fucking do this?' like a normal person can he?" Jay mumbled.
A sharp glare from the the Judge shut him up. Then slow nods of agreement went around the table in response to Tim's question (with the exception of Joan, who had fallen on the floor and was now knocked unconscious, pages flipping softly in the breeze of the fan. Nobody really noticed.)
"It's settled then." With a fatherly yet determined look in his eye, Tim picked up the Tresemme(tm) Emergency Phone, took a deep breath, and dialed.
"Bravo Network, this is--"
"Andy? It's Tim...it's time to put out the casting call."
"That's for letting Daniel lose, you jackass!" A robust young woman with a 10-pound brick of a purse stomped off down 5th Avenue, her desire for revenge clearly satisfied.
Tim Gunn just sighed, adjusted his blazer, and continued walking down the street, trying to remain oblivious to the stares around him. From his left pants pocket a chirping noise sounded, allowing him to duck into the nearest alley and out of sight.
He flipped open his phone, "Tim Gunn."
"Tim?" said a slightly nasal voice. "Tim, you didn't answer your phone a moment ago, are you all right?"
"I'm quite all right, Michael." A girl passed by, giving him a curious gaze and he turned further into the corner, taking care not to brush his sleeve against the wall. "Just a little encounter in the street."
"Yes, well, can't be too sure nowadays." Michael Kor's voice sounded far away, either he was flying or it was Single's Night at William Sonoma and he'd been distracted by a coffee maker. Michael never could resist those baristas. "Will you be at the meeting tonight?"
"Yes, I'll come as soon as possible."
"Nina's making her famous Strawberry Tarts, don't be late, you know how Heidi gets when she's pregnant."
Tim had indeed seen the aftermath of a Klum pastry craving. Those poor children at the bake sale never even saw it coming.
"I'll take care to get there early, Michael. Goodbye."
He hung up the phone, and tried to merge back into the impossible wall of pedestrian traffic. If he wanted to make it back to his apartment and then to Parson's before Heidi got there, he'd have to hurry. He snapped his fingers, and went on his way.
~~~~
Tim occasionally regretted ever agreeing to host Project Runway at Parsons. After filming and teaching, he'd considered just moving into his office in the building, but only a sense of propriety and a slight fear of the night janitor had stopped him.
As he approached the entrance, he could make out in the distance the tall silhouette of Heidi Klum. So he had made it in time.
Heidi, however, stopped to sniff the air, and then was bearing down on the entrance with alarming rapidity. The ground was almost shaking. With perpetual graceful elegance, he scrambled up the stairs and heaved himself into the main meeting room.
"Heidi's coming," he told the room, as if that wasn't obvious.
Michael was already seated, a platoon of Strawberry Tarts beside him. Nina was standing near a mirror, quickly flipping through the newest Cosmo.
"What trash," she exclaimed 15 seconds later and tossed it into the waste paper basket. "Hello Tim. Michael, is Joan here yet?"
"She's right behind you," he answered from his strawberry fortress.
Joan Kors emerged from behind Nina, looking identical to Michael minus the red mustache, and with a sheepish grin on her face. "Sorry, I fell asleep."
The thunder of the floor announced the arrival of Ms. Klum. "Taaaaarts," she growled as she plunged into the room. She eyed Michael with ferocious hunger.
"My dear, Nina has made you your own." Joan smoothly intercepted. Heidi set to work on the plate of baked goods, and within a moment was back to her usual self.
"Sorry,” she said daintily, “you know how I lose control when I'm pregnant,” and went into the washroom to clean up.
"She wasn't pregnant when she ate that factory of Twinkies,” Michael stage whispered.
"I have a high metabolism!" was heard over the sound of running water.
"Are the others coming?" Nina inquired.
Heidi walked out, looking much fresher and Tim sat down in his regular position at the head of the table. "Well the guest judge is incommunicado, and I believe our newest members will be late today. Shall we bring this meeting to order?"
Heidi lifted the industrial sewing machine now blocking her seat and sat down, glaring at it. "Yes, I believe those of us mature enough would like to."
"Oh don't take it personally Heidi," the sewing machine said sulkily, and in a flash Michael returned to his normal form.
Joan glared, and sat down next to him. Michael hissed, "Well at least I didn't fall asleep as a mirror." Nina, by the time this was done, had already gone to pick up her dry-cleaning downtown and eaten a Cosi salad, and was now lighting a cigarette with her perfectly polished nail.
"People, are we ready now?" Tim asked exasperated, "Do you realize how much empathy sucks when forced to reside in a room with you three?" He banged a ruler on the table.
The meeting of the Fabulous SuperFriends was about to begin.
~~~
Tim's slip into colloquial language revealed his growing frustration, and with a final round of glares between the Kors and the Klum, and a last bored sigh from Nina, they settled down to business.
"All right, shall we begin?" Tim looked calm again. "The question of whether or not we prefer the Badgley Mischka costumes or the Dior is now on the table. This will need a simple majority vote."
"Dior," Heidi answered, "It moved better, and did not tear when I picked up a car." Blessed with super strength, super senses, and super hotness, Heidi “The Body” Klum’s only known weakness was prolonged contact with off-the-rack clothes.
"Badgley Mischka," replied Michael and Joan "She's Really His Sister" Kors in tandem. The "Wonder Twins" which they called themselves despite loud and long protests from everyone else in the group, had the power to become design accessories at will, along with the power of flying and a resistance to heat. This, unfortunately, led them to often fall asleep while tanning.
"Because I thought it made you look slimmer, Michael."
"Yes, and because I thought it hid your wrinkles better, Joan."
A pair of shears began to snip at Michael until Tim intervened and placed Joan under a re-transformation spell. Michael, meanwhile, had moved to the opposite side of the table, saying " I told you you should have used the anti-aging formula, but nooo, it was tested on animals. They weren't even Earth animals, Snow Miser."
"Moving on," Nina interrupted, "I vote Badgley Mischka as well. Their fireproofing has improved by leaps and bounds since their last submission. Much more pleasing."
Nina "The Orange Falcon" Garcia's gifts had manifested themselves late in life, and while no one said it officially, many of the members suspected she had done so through pure force of will-- the super speed because she was always so busy, and the pyrokinesis because she tended to forget her lighter. Tim had suggested the name "Phoenix" as her code name, or perhaps "Firebird", but ultimately Nina found both words too vulgar and instead created her own. (Anne Slowey completely agreed with her when Nina told her about it later over mojitos.)
Tim made a notation and then added “And I shall vote for--"
BLAM!
The door, barely on its hinges after Heidi, cracked in two. Several figures bustled in, brushing off foliage from their jackets, and hurried to the conference table.
"Are we late? I vote Posen," gasped Jay "Shockbitch" McCarroll. His powers to control energy were a great aid to the group; he also was responsible for coining the term Fabulous SuperFriends at the league's inception after PR1.
Tim would always secretly hate him for that.
(He had preferred "Alliance of Professional Colleagues En Vogue.")
"Zac Posen is not an option, Jay," Heidi said.
"Well fuck that, he should be!" Jay had seated himself to the right of Michael, and was creating mini-lightening storms around the plate of tarts.
"Jay, uklidnit se," said Chloe "Lot 8" Dao, or at least one version of her did. Sometimes Chloe forgot to unDuplicate herself, and while Duplication was a useful power to have, eight Chloes fighting over eight bolts of bright blue fabric was not something Tim ever wanted to witness again. He almost lost his eyesight that day at MOOD.
Everyone was glaring at her though, and so Tim intervened with "Chloe, please stop with the parading. We are not all omnilingual, and you are aware of this."
After eight identical eyerolls, Chloe(s) leaned back in the chair(s) and became just herself again. “Better?” she said.
Tim fought the urge to just magic them all into turtles. "Your votes, please?"
"Dior," they both responded.
"And I am voting for Badgley Mischka, leaving us with a 4-3 vote. Good job, everyone,” Tim "Tim Gunn" Gunn said as he made yet another notation on his notepad. He was the leader of the Allian--, er the Fabulous SuperFriends by default, as no one else could stop sniping long enough to vote on anyone else. His empathy and the ability to heal allowed him to portray a kind-hearted, concerned father figure to the rest of the group, while his magical abilities left him secure in the knowledge that if he really needed to, he could kill them all. "I will contact them tomorrow."
Despite Heidi's look of hate (or hunger, it was hard to tell under those bangs), the rest of the table seemed to agree with the decision. Time for a vodka break.
~~
"And now our last, and most serious, order of business--the reappearance of C.N. & Boaring.” Tim spread several photographs (and a few fashion magazines) out over the table. "These were take just days ago in the heart of Paris. You can see that the man in the third picture, in tweed, is clearly Boaring. And one picture down, with the plastic zebra shirt--"
"It looks like it's Cheepno?" Heidi said curiously, as she studied the photographs.
"Boaring..." Chloe leaned in closer to look at the photos. "That's who Jay came in to help defeat, correct?"
"Damn straight," Jay said, cocking his large pink cowboy hat.
"Yes, and you to fight against Cheep, last season. But now, well, from these pictures BRAVO sent it looks as if our deepest fears are being realized..." Tim said gravely.
A hush fell over the entire group. Even Jay's lightening storms paused, mid-strawberry-strike.
"Cheep and Boaring," Nina whispered finally, aghast. "We could never stand up against such a powerful alliance. Separate, yes, but together..."
Several more moments of silence followed, until Tim quietly coughed and said, "In light of this, BRAVO has recommended we push up the timetable."
A flame arose from the other end of the table, a chair crashed through the window, and a pair of pattern books flew into the air. Two Chloes caught them.
Joan was shouting, pages flipping with rage. "They can't be serious, we just finished finding a new one and--"
Jay cut in, hair on end,” Where are we going to find someone else, we already had half the superhero-designer world try out! We can't be taking leftovers--"
"--there are challenges in the day, rescues in the night, these things take time to plan, and--"
"--you ended up with me the first time, you can't top that and--"
KAPOW!
The designers looked up dizzily from their new positions on the ground.
Straightening his jacket, Tim continued. "People, this is not an option. We, by ourselves, are no match for Cheep and Boaring. Do we want the world to face the horrors we have seen them commit?"
Everyone reluctantly shook his or her heads.
"All right, then we need another. Let’s make it work."
"I agree, Timothy," a new voice cut in. Everyone turned to see Diane von Furstenberg --no, Richard Tyler--no, Vera Wang walk in.
"The Judge," Chloe whispered to Jay. The Guest Judge, shape shifter extraordinaire and mystical being that caused supreme fear in all those around it. Sometimes crazy, always late.
"I apologize for my tardiness, Timothy," the Judge said, though it meant no such thing, "but I believe I must agree with you in this matter. We cannot fight Cheep and Boring alone."
With halting moves, the other members picked themselves off the floor and sat back around the table. The Strawberry Tarts were beyond repair.
Tim remained grim. "Agreed. So do we want to begin another competition, on whose outcome the fate of the world rests?"
"He can't just say 'Are we gonna fucking do this?' like a normal person can he?" Jay mumbled.
A sharp glare from the the Judge shut him up. Then slow nods of agreement went around the table in response to Tim's question (with the exception of Joan, who had fallen on the floor and was now knocked unconscious, pages flipping softly in the breeze of the fan. Nobody really noticed.)
"It's settled then." With a fatherly yet determined look in his eye, Tim picked up the Tresemme(tm) Emergency Phone, took a deep breath, and dialed.
"Bravo Network, this is--"
"Andy? It's Tim...it's time to put out the casting call."