Kelly beams when she talks about the motley crew of
unemployables misfits she's gathered together at People's Rev. Like Stefanie Skinner, her old assistant, who seriously looks like she's seen ALL the ghosts and barely lived to tell the tale. Skinner's been promoted to Junior Account Executive, so the assistant job has fallen to gothy, deadpan Andrew. Initially, Andrew as seems like a boy version of Aubrey Plaza on Parks and Recreation, but it turns out he's kinda chatty. This could be promising. Kelly adores him and wants to set him up with a boyfriend, and they lean out the window scoping out skinny hipster boys for a while. As you do in this town.
Crisis #2: Ashley Dupré (aka the Elliot Spitzer call-girl) on the front of the Post reminds Kelly that last year, Ashley (who is a friend of Kelly's) crashed some People's Rev-produced show and caused a scandal of sorts. Kelly's all defiant on Ashley's behalf, because the fashion industry is full of whores anyway, right? Ashley even stops by (with her MOM, who is, like, beaming at Ashley's Post cover, which dollars-to-donuts includes a blowjob pun). And, look, it's admirable of Kelly to befriend the shunned girl, and I guess on some level we're all doing stuff we'd rather not do for money, so on some level we're all hookers. But on another, much more literal level, Ashley is a hooker, and even Kelly knows she doesn't need this shit for a second year in a row. So she shuts down Ashley's brilliant idea to crash a show with self-promoting homemade t-shirts. I'm sure she'll take Kelly's advice to lay low, right? Given her historical aversion to crass publicity and indiscretion?
Next it's the day of the David Delfín show at Bryant Park. Let's talk about what Andrew's wearing for a moment, since clearly that's the intention: floor-length, sequined David Delfín gown, and over that, a green plaid flannel shirt. "It's the triple-G," Andrew beams. "Glam, goth, grunge." You guys, Andrew tries SO hard. But I maybe love him. And clearly he's designed for Kelly to adore him. Kelly happily tours the backstage and says everybody looks beautiful, but before you go thinking she's not stone cold, she tosses a photog at a moment's notice for snapping pics while the models are changing. Like, instantaneously, she's like, "Out," and this fool is gone.
Back in the office, Skinner has to deal with Robyn's bitchery and Andrew M. (Robyn's assistant) and his Snooki-level orange tan. Oooh, but he's come armed with this winner of a quote: "I was working in L.A. as a hair colorist in Beverly Hills. I left everything I had in California -- a successful career, mind you -- to come to New York and be called a retard." Billy Joel wrote that song once, right? Also, and I'm not one to judge, but Andrew's lisp is a force to be reckoned with. As of right now, it's the only part of him that's a force to be reckoned with. He's driving Skinner up the wall with his fuckuppery. But he means well. He even cheerfully offers Skinner an Ativan, though she declines. The hilarious thing is you can tell Skinner just wants to be an unholy bitch to Andrew, but she can't, probably because she's a shade nicer than cun... try music fans like Robyn, and also because Andrew's persistence with the Ativan offer is pretty funny. I might like these two also.