Shortly thereafter, Daniel emerges from his office and interrupts Betty eating what I believe is his bagel. She squeaks herself and spits it out and tosses the detritus into a drawer. Or, you could have just swallowed. Men tend to prefer that to the spitting. Oh my GOD. I can't believe I just made that joke. I'm really, really sorry. Um. Anyway. So, Daniel doesn't know what Betty did, but they're having lunch with Bianchi on Monday, "at Madison 6." And Betty's invited. Daniel smirks with glee. "And maybe we could both dress up a little? On Monday?" he adds, tentatively. Betty nods, but looks confused. "I think he meant natural fibers, sweetie," Amanda says, sticking her head out of Daniel's office. I don't think that's going to help all that much.
Cut to Mode's Closet, where Betty is frantically looking for something to wear to the lunch, and I have to tell you, Christina is not being that helpful. "You look fine," she tells Betty. Oh, Christina. Don't be an idiot. Betty does not look fine and you know it, and moreover, she said she wants to look different, so help a sister out, instead of insisting that the frumpy girl remain so to make some kind of statement for you. I don't see you skipping a trip to the waxer. But Christina is on a tear about how the women at Mode aren't "real," because real women "snort when they laugh and have fat arses." You know what, though? Women with fat arses and snorty laughs are also allowed to want to wear something fabulously chic for a big business lunch, and women who don't have fat arses are still actually "real women." Wearing a size 2 doesn't mean your insides are made of circuitry and wires, just as wearing a size 14 doesn't mean you're a slob. Frankly, this is all a bit hypocritical from Christina, who claims to truly love fashion. Who is she to say that Betty can't have a change of clothes if she wants one, especially now that she's been exposed to the Mode world after years of running around in a poncho? Maybe Betty's tastes are legitimately changing. "I thought you wanted to run a magazine one day, not spend twelve hours a day wondering what your hair's doing," Christina snaps. I have to admit, this entire scene really bothered me, and it hit the nail on the head of what sticks in my craw about this show (holy mixed metaphors, there). I feel like people can be interested in fashion and concerned about what their hair looks like without simultaneously being heartless, soulless, brainless morons who are bad at their jobs. (Fine: it seems I spend a lot of time worrying about my hair. Is that so wrong?) This scene also raises a question for me: can you be a valued employee at a fashion magazine if you don't give a shit about fashion? You can be a great assistant, for sure, and Betty clearly is. But she is never, ever going to get promoted at Mode because there's simply no editorial spot that she seems remotely interested in, other perhaps than dealing with the photographers. Her frumpy look is hurting her professionally, I think, or it could in the future, and I don't think it's wrong for her to want to address that. She doesn't have to start wearing weird avant-garde couture, but she could stand to upgrade to, like, a cute pencil skirt and a little cashmere sweater. Which basically is what Betty tells Christina: "Do you honestly think I have any future here if I don't try to change?" Good girl. She storms out, tripping over a rolling rack on the way. Christina just looks cranky.