Part 1 of 3: Students Who Bore Me

So, here’s what you missed on Glee: Terri’s not pregnant but is pretending to be pregnant but her sister knows she’s not pregnant so blackmails the doctor to fake an ultrasound so Will will think she’s pregnant. Sue’s named co-director of the glee club and tries to turn the minority students against Will, so Will fails the Cheerios in Spanish (how does that work, when Santana’s fluent?) Quinn confronts Rachel over Finn who thinks he’s the father of her baby, which Sue knows about and soon everyone will, except Rachel gives Jacob Ben Israel her underwear so they won’t, except they will. Let’s roll on with the show…

 

Once upon a time, there was a boy called Finn. He had no idea his sweater looked like dog poop.

 

He had no idea that layering a rugby shirt over a tee is a habit of the grandpas among us…

 

And he had no idea that plaid was definitely been there, done that, got the t-shirt.

 

He also performed a duet of ‘No Air’ in a surprisingly windy hallway. While his penchant for American Eagle was working this recapper’s last nerve, he did look good in soft sage green, and his love interest Rachel did look like a matronly angel in her ivory cardigan.

Woah with the boob grab! I know she’s your plaid-clad soulmate, but this is a family show!

 

Speaking of, Rachel is dressed as a Von Trapp this episode. The braid in her hair was very ‘happening’ at the time (2009? 1969?), but just because there’s enough checked tablecloth for a blouse doesn’t mean you should make one.

Also, sweater vests are Artie’s thing. Animal sweaters are yours.

 

Rachel! Icky zip-up-pseudo-sportswear is Mercedes’ thing! That cherry patterned monstrosity looks like you stole it from an old lady playing gin rummy in Florida somewhere.

 

Better, but boring. Rachel’s all about baby blue, hot pink, knee high socks and knitwear – the truth is that unless you’re a Harajuku girl, you can’t pull that look off past the age of ten.

Unless you’re circa ‘Hit Me Baby’ Britney Spears.

 

But, as bad as things are, they can always get worse. Carrie Bradshaw’s necklace spelled out her name in elegant script; Mercedes’ appears to have been made of Alphabetti. We get it, you’re Mercedes. We get you’re a star, take out the huge hooker earrings.

Very good statement tee, very bad yellow bra strap.

 

This is layering I like, with several different shades of pink, peach and purple, a bold print and less jewellery. Less is more, as I once advised Vanessa Abrams (she didn’t listen to me either).

 

Oh, K-Hump. The hat says Bogart, the scarf says Blink-182 and the jacket says Bieber. Sort your style out.

 

Artie, remember that old lady playing gin rummy? You’re her husband. Why? Because you button your top button like an eighty year old man and your sweater vest just screams minigolf.

 

…and apparently, everything else you own just screams golf. Nice job including some colour, Tina, with your blue top and admittedly over the top orange eye shadow. At least you tried.