Tope Fashion Model News

The Host As mentioned, Banks heads up the US version. For someone like me who comes to the show blind, only vaguely aware of her persona over the Atlantic, Tyra Banks is simply an infuriating, self-obsessed berk with hair that continues to astonish. Her weave seems to become wavier and wavier as time goes on and by episode ten her wig looks like hawk-wings protruding from her temples, giving her the ethereal, goddess-like frame she desires. And she is actually treated as a deity on the show, blasting out leaden, self-crafted soundbites of pure turd - every one consumed by the starving models as though the word of God was being channeled through a past-it swimsuit model in an overlit studio. ‘Smile with your eyes’ she implores endlessly whilst demonstrating the move, pulling the expression of a cat that’s being rectally examined. On our side of the pond, we get off lightly. Lisa Snowdon is irritating, but only in that she attempts to emulate Banks whilst incorporating a matey, ladette-show into the act. The effect, whilst painful to watch, is nowhere near as fist-clenchingly nauseating as Banks’ gurn-show. Snowdon is also adored by the models - but in a bizarrely regal way rather than as an omniscient being. This is just about acceptable. The Judges This ‘cycle’, the UK version has a new recruit in the mind-scarring shape of Louis Mariette. Presumably the producers saw that The X Factor had a ‘Louis’ on board and decided that anybody camp who was named Louis would fit the Louis bill. The problem is that Mariette is as feeble-tongued as he is extravagantly flamboyant. He may walk the walk, in the most camp manner possible, but he can’t ejaculate the kind of bullshit that riddles the Top Model universe. And that’s disastrous for the show. On the other hand, Huggy Ragnarrson, the ‘top photographer’ (with the tiny ‘folio, going by the same three shots they show weekly) more than makes up for his lack of presence. With her swaying lower jaw that seems to dangle on a hanger below her shrivelled head alongside those dry-pea eyeballs, she looks she’s melting. And she’s a right bitch. In the US Banks takes a bit of a backseat and has ‘Miss Jay Alexander’, a tall transvestite with bizarre fashion taste who takes the reins from time to time, showing the girls how to walk - something I learned to do years ago. Another man called Jay, with spiked white hair and a Jack Frost look sometimes assists with photoshoots, posing and slagging people off. Then there’s Brit Nigel Barker, a shaven headed smoothie with a grating transatlantic accent and Paulaskina Popallover, apparently a WORLD famous supermodel according to Banks, except I’ve never heard of her.