Carrie VOs that she was edited for "an hour" before Candice went off to lunch. Yeah. Bearded Man puts on some Billie Holiday, saying that she's the "only other woman in more pain than [Carrie] right now." Um, hello? The recapper? He says that to make it in publishing, you need "a thick hide" and "a dry martini." He opens a blond wood shelf to reveal a hidden bar and starts pouring. Carrie purrs seductively, "Martinis in the morning? Is this allowed? Is it Vogue?" I guess so, since he spritzes a touch of vermouth in the glasses and keeps on mixing. Boy, I sure hope that liquor is chilled. That's all a martini is, you know. Chilled liquor. He kisses her ass some more, saying he thought she'd be "a natural at Vogue" and that she "has vision." They drink.
Carrie gets drunk and channels Bette Davis. "Cookie's drunk. I'm drunk at Vogue." Bearded Guy sits behind his desk with his martini glass and wonders how such a thing happened. Carrie says she skipped breakfast and "is a size two," which should make her a natural at Vogue, but look at her. She's a sloppy, drunken mess after only one and a half drinks. Heh. Again, how cool. I don't even think I could accept water if I were ever in a meeting at Vogue, let alone get smashed and slur my words. At Marie Claire, however, let 'er rip! Just kidding, really. Carrie rants some more about how Candice is probably right -- what does she know about purses, or men? She gesticulates wildly and spills her martini. Oh no. She's "spilled. [She's] spilled at Vogue." Bearded Guy says it's time to go home. She says she can't go out there, because she's "drunk. [She's] drunk at Vogue." Hee. Bearded Guy leads her through the office, and she teeters and totters and is mildly slapstick-y and destructive. Can I just say I love Vogue's food writer? Their book reviews are great too. And that Andre Leon Talley is such an icon. I'm jealous of Plum Sykes, and love Julia Reed. I really miss the underground feeling of the Index, too. Sorry, I just had to kiss a little ass. The ass of Vogue.
Samantha and Richard are out having a drink. She asks what he would want for his birthday. He demurs, saying he has everything he needs. She asks if he wants anything "decadent," or "naughty" even. The waitress comes up and says she ordered a chocolate soufflé, her name is "Alexa" (shout-out?), and Sam and Richard are "the most attractive couple in the restaurant." She walks away, and Richard asks for "an all-night fuck-fest" with Sam and Alexa. Woo, birthday three-way!
Sam asks the girls over a meal if the birthday three-way is a good idea for a gift. She sounds a bit bitter, although she says that it's "not like he asked for a hooker." Char screeches, "These are the options!" Sam says that at least this way she's "part of the fantasy." Carrie says the new Marc Jacobs notebook would also be a good gift, and it's something she's recommending to Vogue shoppers. No, that would be Vogue readers. Don't mix it up, Bradshaw. You're editorial, not marketing. ["Aw. So naïve, our Alex Richmond. Hee, just kidding." -- Sars] Char screeches that fulfilling a man's fantasy always blows up in the woman's face, like that time she and Trey did it on the golf course, for instance. Miranda rolls in, mightily pregnant, saying she shouldn't be frittering her time away hanging out with the girls, but should be baby-stuff shopping instead. She goes off on a little riff about visiting "Crib World," because "Crib City" wasn't big enough, and how she wishes there were a "This Is The Crib For You" store that delivered and assembled. Mir says she doesn't have a "vague idea" of how to prepare for her baby, and Carrie bursts in saying that she doesn't have "a Vogue idea, hello!" Oh, shut up, Carrie. Char says she'll help, even though Mir already turned down the idea of a baby shower. Char says it might "be good" for her to plan a party, and Mir says she hates all that "cutesy storky shit. Just an adult party, no opening presents, no crustless bread, no games! And I want FRIED CHICKEN!" Char cries, "This isn't Superbowl Sunday!" Actually, Charlotte, it is Superbowl Sunday. Mir wants what she wants, or rather, "it's my party and I'll fry if I want to." Hee. Sam leans toward Carrie and asks what they should get for the shower. Carrie says, "Just stick to the registry, Three-Way."