After he won the inaugural season of Project Runway, no one knew quite what to expect from Jay McCarroll. The iconoclastic designer famously declined the contest's $100,000 cash prize due to the contractual baggage that came with it and set out to conquer the fashion industry on his own terms. The story of his first solo Fashion Week show at New York's Bryant Park is documented in the critically lauded film Eleven Minutes, debuting on the Style Network this Saturday, August 22, at 6/5c. (And airing again at 3/2c on Sunday.) Now living and working in Philadelphia, Jay is still blazing his own trail. Read on to find out what else he's been up to since being named the first "next great American designer."

How did Eleven Minutes come about?
I did Project Jay, which was a Project Runway follow-up, with [Eleven Minutes producer] Michael Selditch, and that was supposed to follow the whole process of putting a show together for fashion week. But I had to get a disk removed from my back, and I needed a couple months to rehabilitate from that, so I missed the window on doing a show then. But we hit it off instantly, and they said if you ever do do a show at fashion week, we'd love to make a film out of it.

You took the documentary to several film festivals around the country; how was that experience?
It was good to see people coming out for the film and enjoying it, and getting their feedback on what I went through. A lot of different types of people can relate to the film, because at the end of the day it's just about a creative process. It's not really so high-fashion that you can't comprehend it. Marriage, or childbirth, or cooking a meal—everybody who goes through some sort of process can relate.

It was great. I traveled all over the country for a couple months and met all sorts of nice people, and I didn't have to pay for any airfare. [Laughs.]

Before Project Runway, did you ever dream about doing a show at Bryant Park?
I can honestly say no. I knew it was daunting. I'd done smaller shows, so I knew how much work went into it, and I wouldn't have even fathomed trying to do it at that level. But I was on that path to do that, and I got to a place where I thought, I should do this, just once in my life. And I don't think I'll ever do it again. It's too much money, it's too much work. Eww. Too much. And it's so fast! It goes by, you know, in 11 minutes. I want to do something that lasts a little bit longer, that people can digest a little bit easier and appreciate.

And [the models] went out of order! And, oh…it  was just a bad experience. I hated it.

There's a brief mention of that runway mix-up in Eleven Minutes. Exactly how bad was it?
A middle, like, five or eight looks got all mangled around. The way I design—even on Project Runway, you saw how there was a color progression. I do things in an order. That's just how I've always done it. And I don't know, it's like an OCD thing, it really set me off. I can't even sometimes watch the film. I cringe. I just hate that, I just hate it. All the effort I took to get every outfit the right way, in the right order, and it just in a split second goes awry. It's silly, though. It's the smallest little thing, but it's still irritating. And now it lives in infamy. Backwards.

Now that you've toiled through a runway show on your own, do you have any regrets about turning down the prize—particularly the Banana Republic gig?
No. The Banana Republic thing was a mentorship, so basically they were just giving me information on, like, factories they use in Indonesia. At that point I was still living in Pennsylvania with my parents. I didn't have a business infrastructure set up. They were really, really great people, really nice and just really accommodating. And they answered lots of my questions, but it wasn't a day-to-day work situation.

I also kind of had a little bit of an inflated ego at that point. I mean, you're on national television, and 4 million people are watching you get crowned as, like, the next great American designer, and a part of me believed it. And the previous 15 years I had done everything on my own anyway, so I just figured  I could do it on my own. But I was surprised about how much money—how much effort, energy, time—it all really took, on that scale. To get into Saks Fifth Avenue is a big deal.

Earlier this year you launched a QVC line that included plus-size items. How was that experience?
I'm a big girl, and I have four sisters, and they all have big boobs, they're not skinny minnies—so I never set out to be an exclusive, luxury, emaciated-model kind of designer person. I grew up on the Gap, so I tend to lean toward dressing every woman out there. And I think it's great, going up to 3X, because it's an untapped resource of women. So that aspect of QVC was really good.

You know, it's a science, being on QVC. It's sales per second. And it was very stressful for me. It's very sale-saley, and that part was a little difficult. I'm a good TV personality, but I kind of felt like I was on the spot.

But the clothes I made I thought were really nice. And I just got an email yesterday from somebody saying that they bought something on QVC and they love it and they get so many compliments on it, so that's really what matters in the end.

And now you've got your own site, the Colony, where you sell directly to the public...
I love doing my own thing on my own site, just because it's total control. We're growing it really slowly. The whole idea of the Colony is that I want to start bringing in other brands, other designers, other labels, so I can transition into a retail environment. The idea is—and this has been a big thing through Facebook—is having people participate in the brand. Buying things, posting pictures of themselves wearing the things. When you go to Louis Vuitton, the salespeople are snotty to you, you're spending thousands of dollars, you buy this crap, and there's no connection to it. I want it to be a bit more collaborative.

But if an opportunity came up…I think  probably my popularity has passed for a Target thing or something like that, but never say never. I mean, I'd be open to doing something for a store or a brand or something like that, just because there's only so much financially, resourcefully, I can do for my own company. If someone's going to throw $50,000 at me, I'll do something else, yeah.

So are you a big fan of Facebook and other social media?
I like it. I like spouting off my opinion. Blogging was really hard for me, because I felt too much pressure to have to do it all the time. Facebook only allows you so many characters, you can only make that little status update, so I think it's a really awesome idea. Twitter, on the other hand, I think is repulsive. I don't feel it's necessary. With Facebook there's no pressure; you update every day or you update every couple days, people don't expect anything from you. Twittering, it's like, "I'm walking. And I'm stopping. And I'm looking." Who cares? I don't care. I'm not the best at technology, but I can look for some good porn and update my Facebook status and that's about it. And email. But I don't like Twittering.

Who's your muse?
In the past it's just been fun girls who don't give a s**t and who don't take anything seriously.

My muse is every woman, you know? Because that's who likes me. I have 60-year-old women who write me and they love me as much as their 30-year-old daughter as much as their 15-year-old daughter. And I feel like I can design for all of them if they have the right spirit and the right attitude. So, everybody. American women. I don't think Italian women would understand me. They'd think I'm too messy or something.

Think you'll ever do a line of Jay McCarroll wedding dresses?
I actually have made a couple for friends of mine, and I do a fabulous job at them, but I hate wedding dresses! Oh, I hate brides. I hate them. It's so tough. Women have dreams about their weddings for 15 years, you know, and they know what they want to do, and what they want to look like. And having to deal with a bride is tough. But I could make a really great wedding dress if I wanted. Alternative, not typical.

Are you teaching now?
I was teaching at Philadelphia University, but I took last semester off because I was promoting the film for weeks on end. I hope to get back to it next semester. I'm on the advisory board at the school, so I'm helping shape the curriculum for the fashion design program. I'm honored to be part of that. I think it's nice for the next generation to have people on the board who actually know and care about where they're headed, as opposed to people who haven't been in the industry for a thousand years. And I'm teaching in other capacities; I'm teaching at a local fabric store as a mystery guest. Anything to help people be more creative and do things on their own and have a sustainable life where they can be self-sufficient…I'm all for it.

Speaking of fabric stores...what was the genesis of your foray into fabrics?
My sister is a quilter, and I saw that Project Runway was coming out with a line of fabric, and I was like, oh my God, that's totally something I wish I could do. My sister's friend had a lot of connections, so we just contacted the company I wanted to work with, and they said yeah. The fabric thing I'm really loving. I feel like maybe that's what I should have done with my life. But I ended up in fashion somehow.

My next line comes out this month. It's called Germania; it's all about germs, so cute. And now I'm working on my third set, and I'm launching a line of knits with them, too, so now you can wear T-shirts or leggings or cute little tunic dresses out of my fabric. And people can buy fabric and make their own projects—they can make pillows or curtains or quilts or clothes for themselves, and I love that. It's Free Spirit Fabrics.

Where do you feel at home?
I grew up coming to Philly all the time—I always looked at it like my city. I love Philly. It's really building up and becoming a cool place with great restaurants and great little artsy areas.

I lived in New York for a couple years, and I hated it! That town makes me crazy. It's just too much. Too big, too many people, too many people trying to be somebody, trying too hard, riding the subway with some smelly armpit in your face, having to go everywhere underground, taking forever to get everywhere, the smell of urine…all of it made me crazy. I have to go there next week, and I'm dreading it. I go in for only four hours and then I leave. It's terrible! I have good friends there, and they're like, "Oh, let's hang out, you're gonna be in town, let's go out for dinner!" And I'm like, "No, I need to go home. I need to be back to Philly by 8:00. My stories are on that night. Gotta watch my Real Housewives."

Any other TV addictions?
Just junk. All junk. Oh, except for True Blood, which is fabulous…I was hooked from the first episode. I don't know what it is about that show. And I don't like any of that vampire crap, I don't care about Twilight. Well, I liked Lost Boys. But, oh my God, True Blood is so amazing.

Do you watch makeover shows?
That's a tough one, 'cause as a fashion designer I'm supposed to support things like that. But at the same time, I think that if a 60-year-old woman wants to wear a vintage skirt with giant strawberries all over it, she should be able to.

As someone who comes from a place of pure self-expression…it's like, some days I look great! I look like a man, like a handsome man in a suit, and then some days I wanna dress like Lisa Bonet on the Cosby Show. So I feel like it's kind of weird to tell people what to wear. Some people just don't care. My sister works in a concrete factory, she has dogs, she works her ass off, she works in the garden all day, and the last thing she cares about is a little black dress. She just wants to wear clothes that are comfortable and serve a purpose.

I like the idea of celebrating people's personal expression. I love that. I have a friend who's a college professor, who's 65, and she wears amazing tunic dresses with lots of jewelry and a cute bob haircut and a fashionable shoe or even a weird shoe; she's not following any rules, and she looks fabulous.

And I think most women know that a wide-leg black trouser is good for them. Or a skinny dark jean. But is it? Who knows? Look back at the '80s, when high-waisted bleached jeans were in. Now we think that's an atrocity, but at the time...But if you look at, like, Jackie O. or something like a black turtleneck sweater, I would think that is a classic. But what if you don't want something that's clingy, or your boobs are saggy? Just wear whatever you want. Wear a f**king caftan.

My personal style icon has always been Mrs. Roper from Three's Company.
Oh my God, right? Fabulous! That woman would come in wearing the craziest Pucci-print tunic-muumuu, tons of jewelry, that big red curly hair. She looked fabulous. I loved her. Thank you for reminding me of her.

Try implanting that into a makeover show now. You can't tell somebody, "Oh, hey, Mrs. Roper is fabulous! You should try to dress like her." People would be like, "You're disgusting."

There are so many awesome people out there who have really interesting style, and those are the true innovators—those who don't follow the beat of everybody else's drum.