Shandi is looking awfully sticklike in a black tank top and gray pants. I think she looks fab, but Stephen believes the pants are skewing a little too big, even though the cut of the pants still seems to reside squarely in the negative integers. He tells her that she has better legs than she thinks she does. Mercedes, on the other hand, needs to be elongated. Yoanna steps out in an all-black ensemble, which works just fine until the jacket comes off and we find her in a shirt that doesn't cover her stomach. One, two, three close-ups on it later, Stephen narrates from the sizable deck of the U.S.S. Backfat, "Yoanna has one problem. And it's the midriff." But Yoanna -- rested and supplicating herself before St. LaLanne, The Patron Saint Of Reshaping Womenly Curves -- reminds herself that Tyra told them that no model is perfect. As thanks for their ability to fail so grandly wearing clothes of his own design, Mr. Fairchild, Patron Saint Of Surprise-Ending Heterosexuality (more to come on this), reoutfits all of the women in his own image. Mercedes, surveying her black suit and black-and-white checkered pageboy hat, tells us, "It's about clothes fitting to your body properly and having a little pizzazz." Awwwww, look who Googled "Italian fashion"! Mercedes then takes off her hat, calling its designer "gov'nah," and begins administering the best shoeshine the town's ever seen, without even knowing she was doing it. That's how powerful that hat is.
The competition for this week, we learn, is that Stephen Fairchild is going to give each of the girls two hundred Euro (which I remembered incorrectly as being "two hundred lire," which, even when the currency actually, y'know, existed, still equaled between a hapenny and a shaving of wampum) to go to the flea market in an attempt to "depict Italian sensuality." The winner spends a night with Fairchild at his villa having an "amazing night." The rest get to have an orgy. Or they can all just do both. Italy. Land of hedonistic dualities.
Back at It ZoLofto, Yoanna dials a cell phone and tells an "Andrea" to come meet them that night at the apartmenti. We learn that he was one of the guys from the Vespas, and that he's going to bring his friends. Mercedes, for one, couldn't be happier: "I've been so testosterone-deprived, it's so not fair." Mostly, it's men who are afflicted with that problem, and when they go for the pink bowling ball, someone just gives them a pill and fixes them right up. But for the sake of argument, I'll pretend I know exactly what she's talking about. Yoanna, too, wants "to get some smooches on." Which is totally orgy talk. When you're five and you make your stuffed animals kiss each other and then giggle because kissing is gross.