Episode Synopsis: In a plot which more resembles the Lion King than Gossip Girl, Chuck mourns his father with a bender and the beginning of a grudge match with his evil uncle while Blair hovers off to one side, restraining herself to some Emmy worthy tears over Jim Morrison Chuck. The Jenny and Eric Tag Team champion Nelly Yuki, while I bemoan what’s become of the minions. Lily and Rufus hunt their long given-away-in-a-private-adoption-lost son, making Dan and Serena’s rekindled romance yet creepier.
Blair is working on building a life without ‘Meester Chuck’ after he vamoosed from her bed and Manhattan last episode. She does so wearing a skirt suit with kitschy and adorable puff sleeves, but the colour is a little dowdy. The boxy red purse helps, as does her gorgeous hair, but Blair’s buttoned up outfit ends up seeming just as repressed as she is.
Thank heavens for timelessly smart coats, especially Dorota’s recurring fur concoction. May God have mercy on us, however: the curse of the white tights hath returneth!
Someone else in need of a little grace is Chuck Bass, busy smoking opium in an embroidered green silk robe. Enough with the suits, he needs to live and die in robes. Preferably not die, though.
…except that self-destructing is one of Chuck’s favourite occupations. Once again, we are gifted with the lovely sight of Chuck in a sweater, this one pale yellow, not to mention a classic double-breasted coat. The spliff is optional and not half so chic.
Bringing Chuck home from the wilds like a stoned Labrador is Uncle Jack – the first rule of being a Bass is, it appears, to have a one syllable name, and the second is to know the value of a good tie and a Wall Streeter white collar.
But bad little pot smoking boys have to be punished by Headmistress Queller, who ‘could do better’ as she probably likes to tell her students. If you’re going for a pussy bow blouse, go all the way, go vintage Chanel. Don’t let your collar hide away and pretend to be a string tie.
Rufus isn’t looking too bad this episode, since a leather jacket is usually a winner and there are a lot of great shades going on his scarf.
He might scrape a five out of ten if he weren’t wearing his favourite denim shirt underneath. Also, his stubble seems to disappear and reappear between scenes.
Someone with as unimaginative a wardrobe as Rufus really has no right to go for Lily, whose heavy jewellery ages her a little, admittedly, but who looks classy and trim in this high-necked black coat. Her hair is a little messier than usual, which is nice.
Speaking of classy coats, Blair wears a wonderful one in teal tweed, cut flawlessly to reveal her ruff-necked blouse. I actually really like this outfit, despite how fussy it is. It’s tres regal, as is her hair: smooth and pretty and topped with a trademark red plaid band.
Alhough this coat loses Queen B points. It’s too big, and the shape looks too much like a towelling robe. The diamante collared shift dress is most majestic; I have no idea as to the purpose of her beret, especially indoors, but I do go mad for millinery. Snaps for Blair.
Meet the Cardigan – I mean, Colony Club. They’re supposed to look like grown up Blairs.
They end up looking like Evangelists who’ve just heard a naughty word.
While not quite as moral, Lily is just as much of a let-down as the club ladies in this baggy cardigan – trying to hide Kelly Rutherford’s bump should mean fab, not drab. Her blouse is both pleated and embellished, but the colour should be warmer so it doesn’t wash out her skin.
I love a man in a good turtleneck. Particularly when his sweater is flesh coloured. And when he’s got the plainest brown coat in the world over the top.
Luckily, Chuck is here to tempt us over to the dark side. This suit jacket has skinny tuxedo lapels, which would look cheap on an actual tux but which are sharp in this case. Add a crimson shirt for our devil du jour and a deep blue ascot and we’re away – away up to the roof, that is, with a bottle of Johnny Walker Black Label and suicidal tendencies.
Uncle Jack, working those stripes! Just like his late brother, Jack Bass knows his patterns. Unfortunately, he has no idea about not yelling at someone standing on the edge of a building.
Luckily, Blair does. For future reference, grab a pair of dominatrix worthy leather gloves, wobble your lip and entice that boy down with your big Bambi eyes and undeniable sexual chemistry. For best results, hug it out until he begs you to stop.