Pet Rock: The Pop Culture Blog

Man Rule No. 17: When you score an invite to a Ford Supermodel of World fashion show and afterparty and you don't go, turn in your Mach III razor and cancel your GQ and Maxim subscriptions because your manhood privileges have just been revoked.

So when Fashion friend Anne passed her invite in my direction, the only issue was whether or not traffic on the L.I.E. would prevent me from getting there on time. I drove the 40-something miles to Terminal 5 on the West Side like I live my life a quarter-mile at a time.

Ford runs this annual global search to find the next supermodel. The show is actually pretty interesting, as all 49 women stand on stage and then parade themselves down the runway one at a time. It's very "Deal or No Deal" just without the cases of money. As a veteran of more than 100 fashion shows, I can say this one was pretty cool, even though I'll never understand why these models never smile when they walk. I get that it's what they're told to do, but c'mon, you're wearing clothes few people can afford, you're all dolled up and every camera lens and human is fixated on you. Smile, damn it. Enjoy it.

(OK, I just put the soapbox away.)

The 49 women represented 48 countries and one MySpace. As Jules Whitfield would say, "MySpace ain't country I ever heard of. They speak English in MySpace?"

While people debated who would win, I debated where to sit. I had a seat in the third row, but it would be difficult to shoot decent photos from that position. The other option was to fight my way into and around the photographers' pit to get a good spot. Hmmm, grapple with the other media types with bigger cameras and tripods, or sit among the beautiful people and go all Kanye West and live the good life?

Well, let me just say this:

Like we always do at this time
I go for mine
I got to shine
Now throw your hands up in the sky
Now I, I go for mine
I got to shine
Now throw your hands up in the sky

Besides, in the photographers' pit, you can't go up to David Wright and suggest that any advice he receives at a fashion show about how to hit a curveball should be ignored. P.S. His lady friend, Molly Beers, was the best-looking gal in the place.

Chillin' in the third row with the Rainmaker, making his maiden voyage through the strange world of fashion, we watched as 49 young ladies took their biggest steps yet toward the fame and the fortune and the glamour and the glitz.

One girl stumbled a bit, then regained her composure. You could see her thoughts even clearer than her clothes, though, as it happened: "Damn! I just lost 250,000 bucks. Oh well, I might as well keep walking."

In case you needed a another reason to understand why I'll never be a guest judge on "Project Runway," here it is: I guessed the girl from Argentina, Valeria Pividori (pictured), and the girl from the Caribbean, Cathy Daniel, would battle it out for the big prize.

Nope. Not even close. They didn't even land one of the $50,000 or $100,000 runner-up contracts from Ford or co-sponsor Maybelline. Miss Argentina, I am crying for you. You got hosed. (Seung-hyun Kang of Korea View image
won the big quarter-million-dollar deal).

The only thing that comforted my pain in seeing my Argentinian dreamgirl disappointed was when the girl from Peru, Nicole Faveren Vasquez, won the first $100,000 contract. They announced her name and everyone clapped. Only one problem with that: Vasquez doesn't speak or understand English. Oopsies. Funny stuff. Watch the video at the top of this blog post and you'll see.