Eastbayri.com

For fans, it may be hard to imagine a time that Project Runway co-host Tim Gunn wore less than flattering suits.

But he told Portsmouth Abbey students Sept. 30 that he wore just that for years as he rose through the ranks — not of the fashion industry but college education.

The 58-year-old was little known before the TV show debuted in 2004 — he acts as mentor to contestants competing for the chance to start a fashion line.

Mr. Gunn’s catch phrase on the show is “make it work,” a phrase that he used teaching in the classroom for 29 years, he said, but that also applies to everyday life.

He was the first speaker in the school’s annual Dom Luke Childs Lecture Series, in honor of a ‘57 alumnus who returned as a member of the monastery, teaching until his death at 36.

Mr. Gunn was invited to the school by his niece, Wallace Gundui, assistant director of admissions and a house parent.

His lecture, “Making it Work with Tim Gunn,” discussed his golden rules for living.

“I am bombarded by bad behavior,” he said of New York City life. He sees it on sidewalks, on the steps down to the subway — yes, he still rides the subway every day — and in the car.

But no matter what happens, no matter how angry one gets, he recommends to “take the high road.” Sit on it until the anger has dissipated. “But if the high road is so high that you get a nose bleed, it’s time to get off it,” he cautioned.

“The world owes you nothing ... absolutely nothing,” he said of his second rule.

When he was still teaching, graduates often turned down jobs and proclaimed that they would not work for this designer or at that location, he said. He would tell them to just get a job and do it to the best of their ability.

Going to the Abbey can open many doors, he said, but if they do not present themselves well to the world, those doors will close. And yes, presenting one’s self well includes dressing well.

His third lesson was to take responsibility for one’s actions.

He told a story from his book “Gunn’s Golden Rules,” which involved “Vogue” magazine’s famous editor-in-chief Anna Wintour.

After a high profile fashion show, he saw her being carried down several flights of stairs by her bodyguards. He told the story to a reporter, the account was published, and the next day her assistant called him and ordered that he retract the story.

As the story was true, he would not retract it. Calls continued for days from her office. Among the complaints, he was accused of implying that Ms. Wintour could not walk in her Manolo Blahnik shoes (a super pointy stiletto).

He lost sleep and was sick over the ordeal until another big name in the fashion industry, who had been at the show, asked that they stop calling him.

Mr. Gunn’s final message was that “the clothes we wear sends a message to the world.”

Clothes are clothes, he said, they do not change. The monastic dress has gone unchanged, but it is still a piece of clothing. It is fashion that changes.

But someone does not have to be fashionable.

“Wear whatever you want to wear as long as you take responsibility for it,” he said.

He did offer up some fashion no-nos, however.

“The dropped down crotch” is his biggest, he said. “Who looks good in it?” Sweatsuits in theaters, churches or nice restaurants is also high on the list.

After the lecture, Mr. Gunn invited students up for autographs and pictures, and many took advantage.

“It was awesome,” said Bailey Raposa of Tiverton. He watches the show sometimes with his grandmother and is interested in fashion. “I came here early to get a good seat.”

A lucky ticket

Growing up, Mr. Gunn never wanted to be an FBI agent like his father, though he said it was a nice fantasy and he had all the spy toys. But he also didn’t dream of fashion or even teaching.

“I hated school so profoundly,” he said, especially the social aspects of it. “I loved learning.”

But teaching and fame for him came hand in hand, falling into his lap like a lucky ticket.

When the idea for the show was still coming together, producers asked Mr. Gunn, then the chair of the Department of Fashion Design at Parsons School of Design in New York City, to sign on as a consultant for six months.

“I didn’t even want to meet with them,” he said in an interview before his lecture.

Fashion reality television? “The business has enough trouble as it is,” he said.

They convinced him anyway and then asked him to become a mentor to contestants.

When he agreed, he thought he would be off camera and that they were only filming the designers’ responses. It was not until season one was edited that he realized he would be on air.

He still remembers the first time someone recognized him — on West 55th Street.

“I remember registering so much shock,” he said. The reaction is not much different now, seven years later.

If someone had asked a year before the show debuted, he would have said that he would work at Parsons until he retired, teaching 3D design and freshman seminar as he always had.

He only recently left his position there, after 29 years, to become the chief creative officer at Liz Claiborne across the street — same subway stop, same coffee vendor.

The funny thing is, he said, he had only become chair of fashion design as a “Mr. Fix It.” He had known little of the fashion industry before he took on the project to modernize the department.

He taught himself, though, and began to dress more nicely. Before he knew it, he was a fashion icon.

Mr. Gunn has a new show, “The Revolution” coming out this winter. It is a daily talk show that discusses lifestyle and health changes. He has also just submitted a manuscript for his third book, a look at the fashion history.