Who you see as a villain or a hero reveals too much about who you are as a person and if there's one thing you want to reveal on a first date, it's that.
Me, for instance, I love Howie, the squat fireplug of a Miamian who speaks with the flattened vowels of a New Jerseyite though he was born and bred in Florida.
I love his explosive rage, his head-down work ethos, his inability to communicate his feelings.
As my companion last night acidly mentioned, the implications of my idolatry of Howie in terms of how I relate to issues of power and communication and the importance of being loved as opposed to being feared are troubling."C'mon," I told her. Sara is annoying but lacks the import to be truly villainous. Brian is nice and was reading Mark Haddon's The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime last night. Dale, the argument could be made, is as bland and benign as the others.
Frank Bruni, on the other hand, Jezebel girls despise him.
One wrote, "I don't think he behaves respectfully enough in the kitchen—I think he makes everyone feel bad." True!
He's queeny without being clever, and catty without being smart. Inhaling deeply, he might even exclaim, "Oooooh, purr-fect!
"I'm here to watch Top Chef, not make friends."So who is my villain? But that mohawk, those clothes, that taste, those candles!
It's like he learned how to be gay from watching Uncle Arthur on Bewitched. If he lived in New York he'd constantly be at Therapy.He kind of understands and yet he missed all the good parts. At home he'd listen to Felix Da Housecat: Ibiza while lighting cheap scented candles. But as Howie says, he didn't come to Top Chef to make friends.I love how he wears a bald cap as a sign of empathy with Colicchio.
More than, say, whether you support Obama or Hillary or even Mike "Rock Thrower" Gravel in 2008, Bravo's Top Chef has the potential to derail nascent relationships.Now that we are down to the final seven contestants, the villains, the scoundrels, the codgers, the heroes, the Hectors and the Hecubas are shaking out.