Connor Owen walks in with donuts and Betty and Daniel both stare laserlike at him with their mouths watering, and Daniel starts writing Connor's name over and over on his Trapper Keeper and carving little hearts into his arm and Betty's like, "BTW, when Wili finds out about your sneaky bromance trick, she is going to kill us all," but Daniel's like, "I need people I can trust. And I can trust Connor to hold me tightly against his strong sinewy form and protect me from every nightmare creature that woman can magic up."
Betty, as a lifetime charter member and founder of Team Daniel, supports this. It's like this whole scene is liminal to the action, like, they're almost too distracted by Connor Owen to even say their lines, until Daniel breaks the spell by talking about how much pussy Connor got at Harvard, but like, I totally get why even Daniel can't concentrate on what's going on. It's like Rachel Maddow all over again, is how I think of this particular effect. Like, concentrating on what she's actually saying is a challenge because she's so adorable and awesome that it blinds your ears to what anybody is saying, and with Connor Owen it's his hotness that is blinding your sense of light and sound.
Which train I'm happy to ride, right up until we jump to the other side of the office, where Wilhelmina Slater is standing there hating on womenfolk for being so susceptible, which of course means she's still crushing on him like she has been, and anyway the new distracting thing is the literal string of pearls around Marc's neck, like... What in the fuck. I don't even have a thing to say about that. It's blinding my sense of humor. I don't even... Like, is that a... Are they trying... It looks sort of cute, but only in the extreme future sociology where "commenting on gender" is actually what you're doing, and not just saying really troubling things about your relationship to your own. And perhaps there are individuals in this world who have reached that place, and perhaps Marc St. James is one of them, but those individuals, until we reach them in the extreme future sociology, are crazypants.
I collect old-school etiquette handbooks, specifically from the American Twenties to the Sixties and Regency London, and I've always loved this one quote that basically comes down to how being truly fashionable is a Goldilocks matter: being too avant-garde in your personal style is just as bad as being frumpy and old-fashioned. You gotta hit it just left of center, or else you're too far ahead, and looking like a fucking freak. And just as with anything else involving other people, the question becomes: "Does it really matter if you're right, if everybody hates you?" And just like everything once you've grown up sufficiently, the answer is simply: "No." So the pearls are actually wrong. I remember the clothes on this show being funny, but never super fucked up, and you would think Betty's clothes would be getting better, not worse. Hmm.