Being Gossip Girl has corrupted Serena into going after her rival slash cousin slash sister, who basically deserves it anyway. Gossip Girl 1.0 wants the site back, but I guess cannot crack master haxx0r Serena's password, "totesrelevant." Dan and Blair have fallen in love over their mutual love of being big smartypantses. Lily's horrible behavior caused Ivy to get thrown out of PRADA and Rufus to stay in DUMBO, but at least she still has wine. And Chuck's five moms were just a house of cards. And boobs.
A neat shot of falling from a great height brings us to street level, where everybody is losing out: Lily's sad and alone and drinking at breakfast, Rufus is playing "I'm Still Your Fag" to himself back in Brooklyn surrounded by waffles, and -- to the cheery sounds of Grouplove's "Tongue Tied" -- Dan and Blair make love to each other's huge throbbing brains over breakfast.
Blair: "-- I just wish people would at least try to discern the difference between Meister Eckhardt and Eckhart Tolle, I mean it's not even a minor..."
Dan: "-- I think it's about the fact that Ira Glass is selling the idea of authenticity itself, so you can always just jump up a level to..."
Blair: "-- I can read Latin. Fluently."
Dan: "I was very nearly a National Merit Scholar."
Blair: "I have memorized pi."
Dan: "I can move objects with my mind."
But all is not rosy pseudointellectual one-upmanship on the Upper East Side, no. Upstairs, beneath a haunted shaking tree and just past the cawing of bloody-eyed ravens, there is a ramble path that leads through the girls' shared bathroom to a cave, and in that cave there is a cauldron, and stirring that cauldron is a beautiful witch named Serena. And what she sees with her scrying eyes is the clamor of a world for one creature, one solitary It, with hair as gold as wheat in summer and crossed eyes as blue as Santorini's waters and lips as pursed as Vanessa Abrams on her dumbest day.
"Who is the Ittest in all the land?" asks the witch, Serena, and begins to shrivel and wrinkle and age as the face, turned up to her, cracks a grin and speaks and then is gone:
Though we're all wet in our underwear, at some point along the path
What's hard-won's least loved in an aging queen's wrath
Betake you from your best friend's house
They loved you then, but don't love you now
The web you've spun now ill tidings bodes
For your relevance is threatened by Miss Lola Rhodes.