(Here I would predict some bumps in the road w/r/t Serena's celebutante status and Lily's newfound loneliness. The show rams it home several times throughout the episode: Blair and Serena spend the whole time invading each other's shit while even Lily's feeling pale next to Full Force Serena, trying on her dresses and bumping around the house all lonely. What's the good of learning to cope with the CeCe world of press releases and society pages if nobody's paying attention? What's the point of being wicked hot if you're completely a mother, deserted by your three children and blackmailed in some unknown way by your magnate husband? The grossness of Eleanor v. Blair took up like the entire Thanksgiving recap, but I mean, it's Lily. She's perfect. She's been content to support Serena's It Girl status, joining ranks with Eleanor last week to get her ass to Bryant Park. Yet we see the same things falling into place, and it starts here: Yale never asked Lily, in handwritten cursive, to do a damn thing.)
Lily unwraps her dress for the Fall Dinner at the Frick from Eleanor, but there are two. Why would there be two? Serena makes that "Uh oh, I'm perfect" face and shows Lily the tag on the "edgier" dress: it's for her. "Oh. This must be mine..." It's a flowery summer dress, seemingly 1996 in cut and in a print composed of Rutherford's best colors: pale lavender and louder washed scarlets. It would have been perfect, if she hadn't seen the black one first; now they just shrug at each other. "It is a really nice color, though..."
DUMBO. Dan's running around queering out about the color and stock and font and whatever of his Yale application, and Rufus cares not a whit, even though Dan says the word "ecru" so many times, in so many ways, I would be worried he was having a gay-related stroke. Rufus, out of complete ignorance, tells him to mellow out and calls him the perfect Yale candidate. "Maybe, but I can't help thinking that Yale is for Presidents, not Humphreys." Oh, Lonelyboy. Second only to W in terms of complete inability to deal. Points for introspection, though. "As the man who cursed you with the Humphrey moniker," Rufus declaims, he must now give a speech. Dan protests that he didn't use the word "cursed," much as we're all thinking it, but the speech cannot be denied -- that's part of the curse.
"Daniel, my son, you have near perfect grades, excellent SATs, more talent than money could ever buy... If that's not enough, then there's something wrong with Yale, not you." And thus, puts a callused strumming finger on the very pulse of all that is wrong with Rufus's idiotic style of parenting. No wonder Daniel thinks he's acceptable in any way. Necktie adjusted, Daniel heads out woefully unprepared into the world: "It's just me, the best English department in America, and a hundred other highly competitive, extremely nervous wannabe Yalies."