"Please. Don't do this." Blair's delighted: "Oh my God, are you begging?" And I know it seems cruel, but A) It's Vanessa and B) It's not just anybody, it's Vanessa. Blair has a lot to hate her for. She's not the hands-clean innocent she always claims to be. "My mom is here, and you have no idea what this speech means for me," Vanessa whines, as though that will save her. Then Blair gives her the once over, very Bette Davis, and says the following:
"Please. You're embarrassing yourself. Even more than usual... When will you learn? Some people are simply better than others." Oh Goddammit, Blair. That's like the one thing you've not supposed to say, ever. It's like saying how much you made last year or what you got on the SAT or who fucked who. It's a secret.
Dan escorts Olivia -- wearing that one stupid, orange, yellow-piped Herve Leger milkmaid dress that was fucking everywhere and is now on TV everywhere -- over to the rents, rolling his eyes when Olivia asks if they're going to want her autograph. To his credit, Dan is totally cool about this developing situation; he never throws his hands to heaven and says he knew it all along, nor does he dork out and make it worse for everybody, or try some bizarre maneuver to make Rufus and Lily feel sorry for him for having such a shitty girlfriend. All of which he has done, but doesn't do tonight.
So Dan just kind of shrugs and doesn't get the joke, and then presents her to them, and Lily -- who is batting .000 tonight, socially, and not by her own fault but rather because she has married a man who consorts with monsters regularly -- compliments the stupid Leger dress that was everywhere and Olivia's like, "It's kind of impossible for you to have seen this dress," and then explains that Max Azria's, like, one of her best friends and does her "crazy favors."
(Um, Olivia? Could you get him to do me a "crazy favor" and, uh, stop sucking? TIGHTS ARE NOT PANTS.)
Lily is of course horrified, and Dan is cool as a cucumber asking her if she's okay -- "Totes!" -- before stepping back so she can stage-whisper conspiratorially, "So, anyone famous here?" Lily's face makes a perfect o. "I mean, besides me..." They all stare at her insane chiclet teeth and question the judgment of everybody except Gabriela Abrams.
"...They're all theatre. You don't understand them, you don't like them all. Why should you? The theatre's for everybody -- you included, but not exclusively -- so don't approve or disapprove. It may not be your theatre, but it's theatre for somebody, somewhere.
It's just that there's so much bourgeois in this ivory greenroom they call the theatre. Sometimes it gets up around my chin."