So… not sure what’s going on with the title of this episode. This week didn’t bring a revolution so much as illustrate that you don’t need a red Sharpie when you’ve got paranoid Graysons around. Pascal’s run-in with a helicopter rotor leaves both Victoria and Margaux with many sads and probably some serious dry cleaning bills. Across the beach, Emily & Co. continue to come up with half assed plans that fall through (and leave Frenchmen dead). In a further attempt to give Charvatar and Jack some plot action, we’re lead to believe that David Clarke is maybe totally not dead and then Char gets kidnapped. Margaux and Daniel continue to talk about things no one care about (Voulez, Interpol, MyClone, blah blah) and get Pascal to sign the company over before he’s killed. That won’t look suspicious at all. And I bet there’s a handsome French brother named Gideon planning to swoop in to accuse someone of something and get in Emily’s way for a bit.
This week marks the return of two of Vicky’s greatest loves — the plotting balcony and fussy long-sleeved negligees. As per usz, she’s obsessively staring across the beach at Emily’s casa.
I thought Victoria’s A-ha moment last week w/r/t Emily’s motives would mean that Vic would spend all week obsessing over re-revenging her. But girl’s got other things on her mind, like…
Getting engaged! To a dude who isn’t Connie! And for the first time in ages, we see a flicker of genuine human emotion on her face. Look how happy she is!
You know a happy person on this show = someone’s about to die. Right? Because it happens every time.
So much happiness this week in the Grayson compound. Just look how relaxed Still Evil Daniel is in a t-shirt and a fantastic grey jacket with some hints of military detailing. It’s almost enough to distract from that fact that he and Margaux are still in MyClone plotline hell. Like, just get a Facebook page or a tumblr already if you need to be on the social media so bad.
Mademoiselle Margaux is a vision in black and white. That’s not just a regular bow applique on this Ted Baker dress — it’s made of wee little pompoms that just happen to also coordinate with her bracelet.
It’s a shame the show didn’t give us a good shot of her shoes. Just trust me when I say they were worthy of the long lost plotless Ashley from seasons past.
Margs continued to kill it this week with some magnificent colour blocking at the office. And I will never not love her très Parisian blue umbrellas painting.
She really knows how to make it look effortless. I bet she wear a scarf so well and so naturally, that it’s like it’s just another appendage. I’m not jealous, just appreciative.
So, this week in the Perils of Charvatar, the only teen in the Hamptons receives creepy letters that make it seem like her bio-Dad is still alive. I almost did a standing ovation for her outfit during that weird attempt at a plot twist because I thought she was chilling at home like a modern day Lady Edith in a black and white sheath with a nude belt.
Except it’s not a belt. It’s actually nude. Yes, girl’s wearing a crop top and matching pencil skirt which is really too bad. As a dress + belt this would have been a fetch look. Snaps for the black trench, the perfect “let’s go see if my birth father who was labeled a terrorist and shanked in prison is still alive” sort of outfit.
Of course, V talks her daughter out of this manhunt (understandably: this show has enough going on. It doesn’t need yet another totally not dead person). The Queen brings a bit of last week’s softness to her wardrobe with this red number.
A hint of her usual mummified steez gets taken down a notch with the gather at the waist and the flare at the bottom. Is the fit of her dresses an indicator of her happiness level? Happy Vic = loose fitting/Sad Vic = sausage casing? Is the ultimate end of that spectrum a truly happy Victoria clad in sweats and flip-flops? Perish the thought.
In any case, she’s not super-happy for too long as her evil ex keeps popping by to visit (and then later, to kill her fiancé). I’m really quite impressed with Conrad’s jacket, which is why I’m offering up such a poor screenshot. The pattern in the jacket is so subtle, it can only be seen in direct sunlight.
I don’t know what kind of jacket it is, but it’s got to be expensive to have such a stealthy pattern.
Across the beach at the Failed Revenge Plan HQ, Emily goes for soft neutrals in layered tanks, while Nolan continues to wear patterns like nobody’s business.
Shiny houndstooth pants for your average afternoon of plotting? Why okay. It’s not like those are the craziest pattern he’ll wear all episode. Nope. We’ll save that for later.
Who else was pumped to see Emily pull out an alias this week? Remember when she used to do this on the reg? Loving her fake undercover detective chic as she plays Pascal like a handsome French violin.
I’m with YKYLF staffer Anthony on the seasons out there in the Hamptons. I have no idea when this is taking place or if another soap opera has lent the town their weather machine, because there is no weather in the world where you can wear a light tank and a turtleneck and blazer on the same day.
Perhaps this is why Pascal gives her a look that can only be described as “look how many fucks I give, ma chérie.”
Seriously, Pascal has no more fucks to give. Zero.
Additionally, I question this messy hair situation. Not sure if this is his attempt to show off a rogueish, French personality or if he just really dug the Just Kidnapped look after Emily released him. Or maybe I’ve just gotten used to the helmet heads of Daniel and Conrad and assume it’s the norm in the Hamptons (Nolan excluded. His bangs by the way are amazing these days.)
Emily continues to wear sweaters for the rest of the day because it may actually be that unseasonably cool in Montauk. Nothing exciting, but the colour is lovely on her.
And I would still trade my eyeteeth for her perfect curls.
Up in the Berkshires, home of Possibly Not Totally Dead David Clarke, it’s totally April 25 weather — not too hot, not too cold, a light jacket is all you need. This is where we find Jack and Charvatar playing detective to solve the mystery of the creepy letters. Again with the lovely trench and black and white patterns, seen on a sassy Sandro top. Very practical, yet classy for a young lady digging through a stranger’s things.
But while it seems like it’s yet another David Clarke enthusiast, Jack and his LL Bean style hunting jacket are beginning to think the plot thickens.
God. He’s so Ned Nickerson about everything. He totally needs Emily — not Char — to be his Nancy Drew. He’s got the clue, but doesn’t actually have a clue about what to do with the damn thing…
… which is why he’s staring at a ring while Creepy Cabin Man is lurking outside the bar and probably kidnapping Charvatar.
Although I’m sort of excited to see someone giving menancing looks through the blinds again. It means more action, less chit chat about revengendas.
At the party for the thing, Emily is showcasing the fact that she has legs for days. Gurl, where you been hiding those stems the last three seasons??
I mean, come on. That’s just not fair that she gets all the legs. She is, however, totally and 100% working that little beaded Needle & Thread dress with those kiler heels (also, props to whoever directed her to take those off for the dash up the stairs to the rooftop. Because I don’t care how good you are in heels, no one can sprint in those bad boys).
All that said, she should have coordinated better with her BFF. That is, she should have toned down the pattern a little since Nolan and Javier clearly had plans for a Battle of the Blazer at this party. Nolan is somehow wearing a full white suit with a paint splatter pattern and working it. He’s clearly a magical being, like a llamacorn or something.
Javier? Well played, young Jedi, but your pattern doesn’t have the force of the master of patterns (or the height. Is Javier three apples high? Or are Nolan and Emily that tall?).
V’s mistrust of Pascal’s intentions towards her and Homeland Security is probably why she pulled out the con-iest of body cons for the evening.
It’s a wonder she can take a full breath in that thing. I think there are ye olde corsets out there that are less constricting than that dress.
On stage, for her brief, shining moment to introduce the thing (which, please. People are suspicious about sharing photos on Facebook. Do you really think they’re going to be cool with an app that so obviously mines all their data?), Margaux goes for an edgy, boobalicious Herve Leger dress that really works with the slick pixie.
I have no idea how she is keeping her neck up with a piece of jewelry that big around it. It’s not that I don’t love an oversized chain, I just think there are limits to how ridiculously large you need to go. But I’ll give her a pass since I’m so on board with the dress and hair.
I’m not giving Daniel a pass for looking so slick for the party, however.
I mean, he’s like a mandarin collar away from being a villain in a movie starring Ethan Hawke or Keanu Reeves from the late 90s. What with last’s weeks’ 80s teen movie villain outfit, I feel like the costume department isn’t quite sure what kind of villain Daniel is supposed to be. Actually, I’m not sure the writer’s room knows either. Maybe season four will figure that out.
Up on the rooftop, things did not go well for anyone’s plans. Or for Conrad’s drycleaning bill.
How do you explain that stain to the cleaner? Or do you just throw the baby out with the bloody bathwater and get yourself a new Hugo Boss suit for your next murder. Boyfriend needs to take notes from American Psycho on how to keep your suit clean during a murder.
And then Madeline Stowe and Henry Czerny get what might be the soapiest moments of their careers.
Yes, V’s screaming over the body of what I can only assume is her now headless fiancé while Connie’s in the background covered in blood, holding an expensive hankerchief to clean his face off with. I guess that’s how they make sure Pascal doesn’t come back to life (because we all know a fall of the roof isn’t enough on this show).
And CEO Margaux learns that the answer to everything in life at the Graysons — plots, schemes, breakups, engagements, deaths, helicopter “accidents” — is an expensive glass of brandy at the end of the day.
Poor girl. Even in her tears and a messy pixie cut (seriously, that hair is amazing), she can’t make me care about Voulez or Pascal.
Au revoir, Pascal! Le Sharpie Rouge est un bitch, even if Emily wasn’t planning on using it on you just yet.