Over in Marc Bouwer's sweatshop, Allie's acting up and being weird. Also weird: their designs. Color aside, they look like Pigs In Space. Like if Spock joined the priesthood. Like those clone people you used to see all the time. Like Heaven's Gate. It's ridiculous. Marc Bouwer tries to explain some basic shit to Allie, and she's not having it. She keeps dissing the uniforms, which are on dress forms and clearly just basted, about how this needs to be smaller and that needs to be more hidden, and Marc's at his wit's end trying to explain about how when they're actually sewn, they will have those aspects, because of how seams work, because...she's like, "Please." She is up Marc Bouwer's ass all over the place and Roxanne's like, quietly, "I don't have a problem with it." Marc tries to make Allie happy, sort of, and she's off on another thing, and then she's like, "Wait a minute, this isn't the fabric we wanted." Like she's accusing him of sabotage or something. It's awful to watch. I hate that kind of rudeness. Marc Bouwer's like, "Um..." and for a second I think we're going to get a meltdown scream-fight, but instead we cut to Roxanne, who compares bitching at Marc Bouwer to "telling Spielberg how to direct," which is true in a few ways, none of which are flattering to either of them, but that's just my personal taste. Allie continues to harp and natter and rant and Marc Bouwer gets a bijou headache and whistles tiredly to himself. Roxanne tells us that this behavior would be an "embarrassment to the Trump organization." The icing on the ugliness cake is when they're leaving and Allie says, "Thank you, Michael!" Roxanne's always-eloquent face screams, "Fuck!" Marc hisses, "Michael?" She drools and freaks all, "I don't know why I said that!" in this fake-bright scared to death tone. "Thank you, Marc!" Ooooh. I don't normally enjoy the falling on your face this much, but damn! That was sweet! Marc makes a terrifying face...but is it her ugly chenille hoodie? Or her ugly Satan-infested soul? Only Marc knows. And he's going to take it out on the next fleshy size-two fat-ass monster that walks in anyway.