Adrianne and Elyse park themselves at a table at the It's Never Been There Before Today Caf, where they speak so covertly and quietly that they're accompanied by English language subtitles, because this is the American release of Trainspotting and Robin will now instead be playing the role of the baby on the ceiling because she is reminiscent of heroin withdrawal and all of its residual side effects. And here is what Elyse says: "It sucks that Kesse is gone. It sucks a lot. I really liked her," Elyse mourns, taking a heaping bite of You-Didn't-Care -About-Her-That- Much-When-She- Was-There-O's, the French breakfast treat with a richly ironic crunch that, if part of a heart-healthy diet, may even lower your Kesse-lesterol a few points. Adrianne is right there with her, whisper-agreeing, "I liked her, too. She's the only one besides you who didn't judge me all the time." Except that Elyse thinks Adrianne is a crappy listener, but it's not true unless you say it directly to someone's face, people. I mean, I know they made a few concessions to this notion of Kesse being a nice person, but where is this "kitten-with-a-whip diplomat who bridged the two warring ideologies" characterization busting out of suddenly? This totally reminds me of this one summer a few years ago I spent in Scotland working on a show, where we were all underpraised and underloved by each other, and thus began to project all of the love we were missing in the world onto the guy who worked in the sandwich shop door to our apartment. He'd smile at us and say really reassuring things like "Here's your panini, chap," which we'd hear as "Of course the lack of natural light in this godforsaken place doesn't make your skin look sallow" or "You barely look a day over twenty-one yourself" and then we'd feel all glow-y and better until Sunday came and the sandwich place wasn't open and we'd see ourselves for the hideous shrews that we really were. Kesse is like that sandwich guy. Except that he really did make one hell of a panini.
"So who's left in?" Elyse continues on, answering her own question in the strange parlance of responding like she's in a scene in the second act of Guys & Dolls, "The holiest holy-rollers and the bottom of the barrel." Since the elimination of good old reliable Nathan, Nathan, Nathan, Nathan Detroit, that is! In a confessional, Robin agrees that things haven't been the same since "Miss Kesse" left, although we can assume that Robin's use of "title" and then "first name" indicates that her relationship to Kesse was quite a bit different than anyone else's. That being, Kesse was, apparently, her nursery-school teacher. We flash back to last week's elimination, while Robin voices over, "I physically could not stand up. I remember leaning on the wall." Yeah, take that, Elyse. You may have experienced the physiological response of firing neurons that led to the scientifically-explicable emotional state of "sadness" at Kesse's departures, but only a good, honest Christian like Robin would be able to reach deeply enough into herself and pull out a full-on case of the biblical vapors. Explain that away, you heartless scientician. Shannon agrees that "a little piece of [her] went away" when Kesse got the boot, because Robin told her to say it because God told Robin to tell Shannon what to do and that was the way it was and we liked it.
“ Adrianne complains that Robin rolls her eyes when Adrianne prays. But, honestly, if I'm God, I'd probably hear that voice lift up to the heavens and before I even heard the words it was saying, I'd be all, 'I'll bet this is another one praying for better corn dogs at Wrigley and for Ditka to run for President. Got it.' ”
Back downstairs (?) at the Algonquin Square Card Table, Adrianne waxes philosophical -- which is seriously the last thing any aspiring model should bother waxing -- "I believe in a higher power. I don't believe that higher power asks you to sacrifice your every damn moment for him." She continues on in a confessional that she does believe in God, adding, "I'm just not psychotic about it." Back at the table, Adrianne continues to sport French high fashion by wearing her signature version of the white Hermes scarf, decked out in her camouflage headband and -- holy living mother of Tyra, what happened to Adrianne's head? Oh, there it is -- and complains that Robin rolls her eyes when Adrianne prays. But, honestly, if I'm God (just go with me for a second), I'd probably hear that voice lift up to the heavens and before I even heard the words it was saying, I'd be all, "I'll bet this is another one praying for better corn dogs at Wrigley and for Ditka to run for President. Got it." I'm just saying that, as God, I'm rolling my eyes too, a little. Elyse responds that she feels as if "half the house is under control of Robin, and our half is under the control of the devil." The devil goes by many names, Elyse. And "Robin" is one of them. And, apparently, "devil" is another. "Things would have definitely sucked if my closest ally in the house had been eliminated," Elyse confessionalizes. "I'm really, really glad that Adrianne stayed on." One final shot of The Brigadoon Lunchroom finds Elyse and Adrianne high-fiving and Adrianne announcing, "Boo-yah!" I do believe that the higher power would probably ask her not to do that.
And now, for another rollicking episode of Indulging Dilettante Fantasies I: Smile, You're On Candid Tyra. Which, to be honest, was a better gambit overall than Indulging Dilettante Fantasies II: Falling On Deaf Ears, Or Ears That Wish They Were during the second season. I can only guess what Miss Tah-ra will try her hand at in Season 3, now that photography and singing are off the list. Maybe she'll paint them all in a Last Supper kind of thing, with herself in the Jesus role and her disciples all around her. Anyway, we land at an undisclosed location on a balcony in, let's say, France, where we find Tyra doing each of the girls' makeup and confessionalizing to us, "I've been photographed by every top photographer in the world. And I've taken pointers from every one of them. That's why I decided to shoot the girls myself." Out on a balcony overlooking such decidedly European architecture as a few low shanties and a grey faade whose only flair comes from the letters spelling out "Fuji Film" (hell of an eye for location scouting, Miss Photographer), Tyra shoots each of the girls in black-and-white. Tyra tells us that while she was photographing each of them, she started to feel that the girls understood "the possibility of becoming a major star." Or, in Robin's case, becoming an even more major pain-in-the-ass: "What comes with this is power," she tells us. "The right person could use this as a modem to touch people. To make change." And I seriously didn't even know where to put the sic in that sentiment, since there isn't anything grammatically wrong with it. FOR ONCE. But...modem? You guys, I swear that's exactly what she says. "Use this as a modem," which makes as much contextual sense as saying "use this as a kumquat" or "use this as a subatomic particle" or "use this as a marching band." Did she mean "mode," perhaps? "Method"? Whatever it is, Robin. Don't use it to touch people. And don't touch me at all.
“ They note ridiculously flashy couture featuring a confounding amount of frills, jewels, and feathers, the cumulative effect making it look like the entire GDP of a small nation was put in a cage match with an ostrich inside a diamond mine and the ostrich did not win. ”
Carven! Never heard of it? ["Isn't that where the Fudgy the Whale cakes come from? And if so, why is Elyse there?" -- Wing Chun] Tyra, in a confessional in which she's bedecked in an outfit that would indicate she's going straight from this taping to her audition for the Los Angeles stage production of Newsies (hopefully still starring Christian Bale and hopefully not featuring a "with additional music" credit that demands that any of those boys "Shake Ya Body" to get that crusty old Joe Pulitzer off their backs), explains Carven as "the oldest couture house in all of Paris." The girls walk into an enormous store that covers several acres over two floors, where they note ridiculously flashy couture featuring a confounding amount of frills, jewels, and feathers, the cumulative effect making it look like the entire GDP of a small nation was put in a cage match with an ostrich inside a diamond mine and the ostrich did not win. Tyra enters wearing a black suit, chic sunglasses, and pulled-back hair on her way to callbacks for The Matrix IV: Please Take Me Seriously As An Actress, Dammit, and immediately goes into her stump speech: "As you know, Paris is the fashion capital of the world" -- until the season, when Milan totally was -- "and the fashion capital of couture modeling." She continues on that the centerpiece of the couture look is the "chignon," which is basically pulling the hair back into a bun. You know who rocked the high-fashion chignon? Alice from The Brady Bunch. In an overdub so obvious it looks like it was orchestrated by Ed Wood after losing some aged star during filming, we see the back of Tyra's head while a totally unmatching vocal clip tells them, except not, "Tomorrow, you'll be tested on your ability to carry yourself in a couture situation." But first, today, we will meet "Pascal Millet," who is the creative director of Carven Paris, which means he waves his right arm in disgust several hundred times a day and laments, "Mais non! Ees no good!" as lackeys scatter and models smoke. But today, he explains the couture industry to them, and once again we are met with English subtitles of English speech, this time because his Fronch accent is so strong they had to add in some patronizing notes for the hometown crowd. And here is what he says: "Couture is not only showing clothes, it's showing an attitude, an allure. You will see the clothes, you will try the clothes, and you will understand." Why will they understand? Will the clothes also be translated from English to English?
So you guys know who the best inadvertent couture model in history is, then? Willy Wonka. I don't mean to sound lowbrow or anything, but they're all wearing these crazy hats and colors and they cost so many golden tickets to buy and Adrianne's life story is basically the first two verses and a chorus of "Cheer Up, Charlie" anyway. They are outfitted in some serious finery, and Adrianne tells us that she was wearing a $20,000 gown, which is followed with the question, "How are you not gonna like some gown that's worth more than your house and your car?" Really, Adrianne? Really? The total net worth of your home and your automobile is less than $20,000? Because that sounds like you had some serious bad luck at that MASH game we used to play on long bus rides to field trips to Safety Town and the planetarium and stuff, because it means that your house is your car. And your car has a bumper sticker reading "my other car could beat up your kid's honor student" or something tax-bracket-appropriate on it.