“Make Me a Supermodel” mini-cap: “Eye Candy”


It’s early morning in the luxe supermodel crash pad. As the sleeping beauties rouse one by one, they find an email from Tyson waiting for them, hinting at the day’s assignment in a cryptic message. It’s déjà vu all over again.

Tyson is an impossibly good-looking African-American male model hosting a show about model wannabes that uses emails. Tyra Banks is an impossibly good-looking African-American female model who hosts a show about model wannabes that sends postcards. Tyson’s name ends with “son.” Tyra’s ends with “ra.” This show is so not Top Model.

The kids are sent on a photo shoot with renowned commercial photographer and author

Suza Scalora to be made up with body paint, glitter, air-brushing and colorful,

sticky things, all to embody different kinds of candy.

Everyone’s running around in nipple covers or their underwear. Straight guys like Branden and resident horn-dog Sandhurst are trying to keep their Mr. Goodbars and Zagnuts in check while Extreme Gay, Chris, is probably wondering why he wasn’t issued nipple covers, too.

Goldschlager is a candy now? Cool.

Gabriel says prophetically, “It’s pretty much your shoot to ruin,” and, boy, does he. Glittered up the wahzoo as a pixie stick, Gabriel pulls out his one and only look, The Pout of Ennui, making him the only candy that could use some Zoloft.

Here are everyone’s results:

The winner of this week’s go-see is Jordan, who also recently won immunity, guaranteeing

her a group snubbing for the rest of the week.

Back at the house, the kids get a surprise visit from Shear Genius alumna Tabatha, who gives everyone the once-over and commands them to meet her at a salon for cuts and colors. Tabatha and Tyson: I don’t think there’s a visible pupil between them. They make me feel positively Caucasian.

Every reality show viewer knows that any time there’s a hair makeover, someone leaves elated, someone leaves confused and one person has a meltdown. In this case, the meltdown goes to CJ, our buxom blond bisexual, who’s informed she’s going to be shorter and brunette-er.

Even after she’s told the aforementioned blond and buxom thing makes her look like a porn star (as if that’s a bad thing), and Tabatha tells her to stop pouting and “act like a model, for God sake,” CJ grumbles brown hair is “boring” and other people pay good money to have what comes naturally to her. Also, she has a problem with “looking stupid” which doesn’t explain why she signed up for a reality show.

The final runway challenge involves more eye candy for the kids. Dressed in all the colors of the rainbow, they strut their stuff for the judges: designer Catherine Malandrino; modeling consultant Marlon; photographer Perou; and Jenny Shimizu‘s curly, girlie, don’t-call-me-Shirley hair.

Someone lose a contact?

Super-geek Colin still can’t get his runway walk together. A confessed 21-year-old virgin, anything sexual, sensual or smoldering is completely lost on him. He can work on his walk until the recession is over, but he’ll never learn from his hours of practice what he would get from 20 minutes with a real, live woman.

Speaking of real, live women, Chris and his gender-vague head are also on the chopping block. Jenny pleads his case — she sees him doing Helmut Lang and other andro-friendly shows. When Catherine counters: “You know what? I don’t think so. I think you’re making a parallel with yourself,” Shimizu looks like she’s going to leap across the table and show Catherine her Michelle Yeoh moves. I’d pay to see that.

Meanwhile, CJ is verbally spanked because she’s turning out to be a real brat. Gabriel’s turn as the most pathetic pixie ever to come in stick form doesn’t go unnoticed by the judges. So many of the contestants performed so poorly this week, it’s anyone’s guess who’s getting the boot. Whatever happens, at least Colin got a female anatomy lesson from the guys.

In the final analysis, Tyson tells Chris he can’t make him a supermodel and returns his book to him. Well, at least he got a good haircut out of the deal, and can probably get Helmut Lang’s phone number from Jenny.

Next week: Tyra Banks shows up with a cease and desist order and bitch-slaps Tyson.

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