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Nah Nah Nah Nah Nah, Nah Nah Nah Nah Nah

Back amid the McKinley lockers, the camera pulls a loving, lingering pan up Quinn Fabray's brand-new sexy schoolgirl-librarian chic as a similarly attired Santana compliments her with, "Look, Q, I know we've had our differences, but I can't lie: That outfit is amazing on you!" "It looks good on everyone," Quinn graciously allows. "Penny loafers and tights?" she continues. "Genius." "Out-rageous," Santana agrees. "I mean," she adds, gesturing down at her own impeccably turned-out self, "my carousel horse sweater should make me look like an institutionalized toddler, but no! I look hot and smart! I feel like Michelle Obama." "Ohmigod, you guys look amazing!" the just-arriving Single-T Tina raves, positively beaming from ear to ear. She is, of course, sporting her own version of this must-have look, and just as Rachel bounds over from points unknown, Single-T Tina asserts, "She's a genius and an icon!" "Who is?" Rachel too-innocently wonders with a too-bright smile affixed to her face. "Brittany," Quinn replies, as if the answer should be obvious to everyone, "who did you think?" "Who knew that taking off that Cheerios uniform would turn her into a fashion institution?" Santana rhetorically marvels. The smile tightens on Rachel's face until it looks like her skin's going to split straight down the middle to reveal the glowering skull of rage lurking just beneath, and she hisses, "Is this a joke?" "No," Santana replies, gazing with horror upon Rachel's top, "that sweater is." "Who wears a reindeer sweater?" Santana grimaces. "Uh, all three of you!" Rachel retorts. "No, this is a carousel horse," Single-T Tina duhs. "If you want to know what to wear," Quinn sighs, shaking her head slightly at Rachel's abject cluelessness, "just look to Brittany." "She took the look from me!" Rachel insists, sounding increasingly unhinged in the process. "I paid her!" "You're a terrible liar, Rachel," Single-T Tina frowns, deeply disappointed. "I can't believe you would take this away from poor Brittany," Quinn reprovingly chides. "It's sad," Santana emphasizes. "You're just sad." Brilliant. That entire little scene was just brilliant, and bravo to everyone involved.

And it just gets better when Brit-Brit herself wanders in from outdoors. "Hey!" Rachel snarls, powering on over to her. "I want my money back!" "I used it to pay a publicist," Brittany shrugs, absolutely on wrong side of sorry. "Jacob Ben Israel posted a photo," she explains, "and this website called The Sartorialist? Named me 'The Trendiest Girl In America.'" "But I'm trying to stage a comeback!" Rachel all but sobs, her overweening ambition cruelly thwarted yet again. "Okay," Brittany nods, "but what, exactly, are you coming back from?" Point to Brit-Brit. "Listen, Rachel," she continues as Rachel flounders about in front of her, "I'm gonna give you some tough love right now: You're not a trendsetter. When people look at you, they don't see what you're wearing -- they see a cat getting its temperature taken, and then they hear it screaming." Several additional points to Brit-Brit. "I'm really sorry," Brittany concludes, obviously not terribly sorry at all, "but I have to go -- I have an interview with Teen Vogue." Buuuuuuuurn!

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