"Mornings are simply more fun on the Upper East Side. Our favorite things to wake up to? The sun in the sky, the Nikkei on the rise, and a wake-up call from your latest lover... Or your best friend." Serena's on the move, getting pastries for the Bass der Humphrey breakfast and checking in on Blair, to the latter's consternation. Between the momentary curve to the dark side with Carter, and this latest thing with Chuck, S assumes that B is in meltdown.
Blair lies that she's in her pajamas, eating french toast with Dorota. What she's actually doing is way worse than the usual meltdown, because what she's doing is replaying the Lord Marcus fantasy over again, this time with Nate, who was once her arranged marriage. She's plying him with breakfast and coffee and trying to get him bent back into shape around her future: now that Yale's gone and Chuck's gone, all she's got is the van der Bilt millions to look forward to.
"As much as I appreciate the concern, S, my downward spiral is on the upturn." The music is, fittingly enough, by a band called the Handcuffs, "Baby Boombox," about listening to vintage music you know you've outgrown, on equipment unsuited to the current time: "A crazy relic that plays a cassette for the connoisseur on the go." Her hope is that if she does all the Blair stuff, plays the songs they use to dance to -- "It's good music but not the latest" -- he'll forget how much they've all changed, and settle back into their comfortable old ways, like a jacket on a screened-in porch. She knows it's gross, so she lies even as she's walking out into traffic.
Serena hears them yelling at her to get off the phone, and the honking horns, and figures she's just hearing it on her end. In fact she is: they're both at 73rd and Madison. Blair lies that Dorota's using her handkerchief at the breakfast table -- "It's disgusting!" -- and once she spots Serena on the move, she hides lamely and hilariously behind a small topiary outside a hotel, staring past it at Serena as she sends Dorota her best wishes and ducks into the bakery; Blair trip-trops away, nervous about lying and even more embarrassed that she's out in the morning, but neither of them know they're on the same errand: supplying bribes to the family they are trying to create.
Jenny's settled into this awesome dowager neck thing, I don't know what you call it but it's like a ribbon choker that crosses once under your chin. Dan comes out into the loft waving his "first fan letter," which in fact he did not write himself, but was forwarded from the ever-indulgent New Yorker: "Some kid read my story, he loved it! Sent me his own story, I mean, he wants my opinion, but I figured it'd be good practice for Yale since they make you do a crit with your classmates..."