As of this writing, "Project Runway" has been off the air for — quick mental calculation — a lot of days, and so I am practically tripping
As of this writing, “Project Runway” has been off the air for — quick mental calculation — a lot of days, and so I am practically tripping over myself to get to Austin Scarlett, even if it means sitting in a downtown bridal shop on what must be the hottest day of the year. All that taffeta and tulle, I do say it makes me feel quite flustered, Miss Scarlett!
I just want to have a look at him, and he is as you would expect: slim and unfailingly polite in a black suit with polka-dot hanky, and a charm bracelet on his right wrist dangling with what look like artichokes or pine cones or bananas. He appears quite at home — unlike myself — surrounded by brides and champagne and his grandparents, the beaming Buzz and Joyce Summers of Eugene, Ore., at a trunk show at Marcella’s La Boutique.
“I definitely would love to design wedding dresses for the rest of my life,” says the “Runway” finalist-turned-head-designer of Kenneth Pool, seated on a little sofa. “One day I’d love to do a dress all of fresh flowers: gardenias, peonies … a once-in-a-lifetime dream gown. But in a couture way, not in a 10-hour-challenge kind of way.”
He still watches “Project Runway” — “I loved Santino and I really liked Laura; I admired her elegance” — and yes, his real name is Austin Lee Scarlett, making one wonder if his mother was inspired by another famous Scarlett. “No, I was a big fan of ‘Gone with the Wind,’ ” he says, “not my mom.” …
- With death on table, McEnroe jury's friendships crumbled
- To retire at 55 takes big savings
- Microsoft employees -- past and present -- look back over the years
- No time to eat in Silicon Valley, so techies chug their protein
- Salary cap expert Joel Corry with another look at Russell Wilson's contract
Most Read Stories
“Stay off the grass,” says the greeter as I step onto Safeco Field, and I am only slightly annoyed at my thwarted opportunity to run the bases, because as it turns out, I am wearing the wrong shoes. It is the day of the Edgar Martinez luncheon prior to his induction into the Mariners Hall of Fame, and I finagled a last-minute invite and am sitting somewhere in left field with the other media, pretending to be a sportswriter. Bret Boone is all GQ in his black suit and matching sunglasses, but the sportswriters are all, without exception, wearing plaid shirts and cotton pants in the khaki/olive/brown family, with brown shoes. They don’t applaud anything — not even Jay Buhner — but instead fiddle with their tape recorders and take copious amounts of notes. In my attempt to blend in, I have failed on every count. I am wearing a dress and do not take any notes, because it is more important that I use my notebook as a visor to shield my face from the blistering noon sun. As such, I go home with a wicked sunburn along my right forearm and, more happily, a commemorative Edgar Martinez Hall of Fame mug. …
It is Friday night and I am feeling very Asian, as I am at Richard Hugo House with my friend Asian Nicole — that’s what I call her, “Asian Nicole,” not really — for the long-running theater show “Sex in Seattle,” which I describe to Asian Nicole as “Asian Sex and the City.” It is, as you might guess, a sitcom/soap about four single Asian friends, and poses questions such as: Should you date the Asian guy or the white guy? Dilemma. The show is cute and clever, created by the Asian-women-run SIS Productions ($12, www.sexinseattle.org), so Asian Girl Power and all that. How many more times can I say “Asian” in this item? I’m not done yet. “How do you know you’re in love?” asks one of the characters, addressing the audience. The house lights go up, and she seeks out (Asian) Port of Seattle Commissioner Lloyd Hara, who is sitting in the front row. He seems a bit put on the spot until his wife interjects, “I told him.” …
Where’s Tom Skerritt? I came to work Monday to the following voicemail: “Hi Pamela … I just read your column this past weekend about having seen Tom Skerritt all over the place, and actually we are trying to get him to speak at our fall event coming up, and I was wondering if you would have by any chance his contact information?” Is this funny to anyone else, or is it just me? To clarify: I don’t actually know Tom Skerritt. It’s all just a running joke that has spiraled out of control. Now here’s the punchline: Later that day, I got another call. “We’d like to invite you to Intiman’s 35th anniversary gala. … Tom Skerritt will be there.” Sold.
Girl About Town appears every Sunday in Northwest Life. Pamela Sitt: 206-464-2376 or email@example.com