Part 2 of 2: The family that blackmails together…
Oh Graysons! So dysfunctional, but you work so well together as an angry, blackmailing team. If it weren’t for you, how else would we know that the appropriate way to deal with your feelings about almost being exploded and wanting to take down your husband and possibly your pretty blonde neighbour is to stand on your balcony in steel grey satin and black lace with a glass of brandy.
Not that we’d try it at home. Aside from lack of Plotting Balconies (we really should get one for the YKYLF staff room), we know we could never pull off the style feats Victoria does. She is killing it in the sheath dresses lately – to a point that make me sad for my own sheath dresses.
Aside from that mean streak and your lacklustre parenting skills*, you’re kind of perfect. (*although, let’s be honest – you’re doing better than Lily on Gossip Girl).
Can we talk about brunch Chez Grayson? Because I’m starting to notice that even Downton Abbey’s got nothing on your everyday brekkies.
Let’s break that breakfast wardrobe down, shall we? Charlotte is still dipping into the ruffled side of her closet. Even rehab couldn’t cure her of that habit – although the colour is great. But doing colour even better? Ashley. She’s got chartreuse under control – and I’m jealous. I can’t even stand next to someone in that colour. And Daniel, that darling, dumb creature, is committed to the tailored shirt. How much time do you think he devotes to working out each day? Because I feel like one stray croissant might bust one of those buttons.
Serioulsy. I worry your buttons might become projectiles.
Connie, on the other hand, looks tailored without looking like his shirt is way too tight.
And he’s got something in common with Nolan, other than being obscenely wealthy: he knows how to mix a pattern or two.
But where Nolan is flashy, Connie’s is subtle and profesh.
My favourite all week was the wee Grayson. If she can keep this up, she is well on her way to me caring about her storylines.
It’s classy and girly, but not little girly. She looks like a wealthy teen who knows what’s up and has moved on from her Rich Kids of Instagram days. Get on her level, bitches.
And poor Fauxmanda. Yeah, I said it – poor Fauxmanda. Everyone’s using her for their own end game and I predict things won’t end well for this Amanda Clarke. Not that she’s doing much to get my sympathy – what with her marble mouth and horrible taste in maternity wear. We go from the trashy to the dumpy.
Let the skinnies and the cut-offs go for just a few months, kiddo.
And start hanging out with your pretend sister in hopes that she’ll throw you a bone and buy you a maternity dress that’s better than this:
Pro-tip: find something that covers the bra when you’re headed to your pretend sister’s family’s press conference about a thing that didn’t really happen. I know Emily Post doesn’t really cover those situations, so I’m going to help you out on that one.
Until the shit goes down with the mysterious Initiative, at least Fauxmanda will get blackmailed into being a part of this classy, but awkward family.
Yup, just one big happy family…