America's Next Top Model: On the Town

This week’s episode is a study in contrasts. First, we have Tahlia: the inexperienced burn survivor, her confidence battered by weeks of being made to cover up the only intriguing thing about her, and by being either the fattest regular-sized model or the least voluptuous plus-sized model in the competition. Then, we have Natalie, aka The One I Keep Forgetting Exists: the spoiled rich girl with modelling experience whose confidence is as unshakeable as her hair is shiny. And who has not a chance in hell of winning this thing because, oh, let’s say, she lacks a compelling personal narrative. So, which one of these girls will go home? Well, actually, neither, but the actual girl who goes home is such a bore that the editors can’t even manage to slap together a story for her this week, so Natalie vs. Tahlia it is!

First, we’re off to Miss J.’s charm school for some lessons in walking and being a lady. It’s sort of like “Pygmalion” if Henry Higgins were into drag. Headmistress J., amusingly, is accessorized with a wig and pearls (the better to clutch in horror) and a dainty tea service. The girls get dressed as socialites by way of The Gap in pastel cardigans, capris and pearls, then walk for Miss J. So as not to disrupt this episode’s main narrative, Natalie is perfect in every way and Miss J. loves her, while Tahlia trails insecurity all the way down the runway. Allison is so inept that Miss J. makes her walk with a book on her head, which is probably the closest any of these people have been to a book in a very long time.

When the lesson is finished, there’s a brief visit from Bianca and Unmemorable Barbie-Faced Blonde from Cycle 9, to provide inspiration to the girls that someday, they too will be famous and underemployed enough to make 30-second guest appearances on Cycle 16 of ANTM, god help us if such a thing actually comes to pass. Why can’t they ever bring back the fun, mentally unstable contestants for guest appearances, like Jade or Lisa? I could really use some impromptu performance poetry or adult-diaper antics to wake me up right about now.

Later on, in the House of Ebony and Ivory, a game of Truth or Dare devolves through nostril-licking (ew) and Carlton-dancing (were these girls even alive then?) to Natalie’s declaration that she thought Tahlia’s photo was the weakest one last week. Ugh. It’s like watching the prettiest, most popular girl make fun of the shyest, fattest one. Only these are all models, of course, so “shy” and “fat” are relative terms.

The challenge this week is another runway show, this time for legitimate designer Jill Stuart. Does this show seem like it might be getting slightly more upscale lately? Whatever happened to the “fashion shows” in Wal-Mart parking lots? Our old friend Ann “Cross-Platform Brand Awareness” Shoket from “Seventeen” magazine is on hand to judge. The models walk down the runway in floaty dresses with piles of shopping bags, like extras from “Confessions of a Shopaholic.” Jill Stuart laughs in the face of recession! Natalie is selected as the best bag-carrier despite doing a silly little turn on the runway, with Celia a close second. Tahlia, once again, is criticized for her lack of confidence. You know what’s not a good way to improve someone’s confidence? Keep telling them how insecure they look. Back at home, Tahlia’s fate seems sealed when she enters the Phone Booth of Impending Elimination for a heart-to-heart chat with her sister. Uh-oh!

And it’s time for the photo shoot, inspired by Manhattan and the diversity of its neighbourhoods. Like, there are neighbourhoods for wealthy bankers, neighbourhoods for wealthy artists, and neighbourhoods for wealthy nannies. Diverse! The girls get to drive around the city in a double-decker bus and shoot in pairs and groups. Nijah and Kortnie, aka The Other One I Keep Forgetting Exists, go to Soho to play avant-garde artsy types. I guess this shoot also takes place in the past, because Soho these days is about as avant-garde and artistic as a Pottery Barn. Neither of them is particularly good, with Nijah being particularly less good. “Fo” and Aminat go to Wall Street to portray bankers, checking up on their stocks and whatnot. If there were any level of contemporary realism to this shoot, the “bankers” would be either getting perp-walked out of the bus or jumping off it. But both girls do great, and “Fo” works some serious eyebrow. I like “Fo” this week! I might even consider taking the quotation marks off her name. Celia and Sandra are great as high-fashion nannies. London and Allison are 5th Avenue socialite frenemies, and high on my list of words that I would like to ban from usage (it’s long) is “frenemy.” (Other recent additions: “bromance”; “momshell.”) You notice how it’s only ever applied to girls, too? It just feeds into this stupid, dated, sexist idea that women are all catty and competitive with each other, even when they like each other. Which I am probably perpetuating by writing a catty blog about models! Ah well. Okay, back on topic: finally comes our major surprise of the shoot, for lo! playing tourists in Times Square, Tahlia totally outshines a phony Natalie and a toothy Teyona. Maybe the Curse of the Phone Booth has been turned around!

This week, for that bizarre pre-panel Guide to Owning Your Inner Fierceness segment, Tyra is accessorized by two adorable African-American children. Do you suppose she has Obama-girl envy? I am very afraid that all this is leading up to an announcement that Tyra is actually going to publish a children’s book called the Guide to Owning Your Inner Fierceness. Okay, actually, I would sort of love to read that.

All right, let’s wrap this up. Panel! Winner: Sandra! Runners-up: Tahlia and Fo. Bottom two: Allison, for relying on her creepy marsupial eyes, and Nijah, for relying on being very, very pretty. And very, very boring. After disappointing the judges for several weeks now by showing that her modeling ability is inversely proportionate to her prettiness. Nijah goes home.

I can’t resist adding that Nijah’s heart-embellished farewell letter to the girls ends with the advice to “play fare.” Which is sort of further proof of Liz Lemon’s recent theory that good-looking people don’t ever have to learn to be good at anything else, isn’t it?