Daniel agrees with me. "Look, it's all about appearance," he tells Betty, as they go through old magazines. Why, what could the lesson of this episode possibly be? It's right there on the tip of my tongue. "That's all Alex did to Hudson. He changed the font, the layout, hired some trendy photographers and my father thinks he's a hero. I could do the same thing at Mode." Betty nods, but reminds Daniel that his first issue was a huge success, anyway! Daniel thinks it was basically Wilhelmina's success, since he was pretty occupied losing The Book and forcing Betty to wear hot pants. He tells Betty to schedule a staff meeting for Monday morning.
Wilhelmina is changing clothes in her office. She's wearing yet another white ensemble. Evil Marc comes swanning up behind her: "Two words: Fab-oo!" He natters around with her collar and wonders who her "plus-one" is for this event, a breast cancer fundraiser. "The senator is in town," she tells Evil Marc, arranging a large purple ribbon on her lapel. "I thought Breast Cancer was pink," Evil Marc remarks, of the ribbon. "It is, but Alzheimer's went better with the outfit," she tells him. Marc sort of rolls his eyes at this. "What do you want, anyhow?" she asks him. "The conference room. And it's GOOD."
In the conference room, Betty and Daniel are still yapping about Alex's fonts and photogs, including one powerhouse photographer named Vincent Bianchi, who Betty loves, and who Daniel claims will never work for them again: "When he worked with Alex, they got into this huge blow-up. He thought Alex was a fraud; Alex thought he was a temperamental artiste. He vowed never to work for Meade Publications again." Betty points out that Daniel is not Alex. This does not go over well, as Daniel gets all huffy and inarticulate, and decides to stop talking about his Dead Brother and instead concentrate on looking at the rest of the photographers' files. Wilhelmina and Evil Marc watch from outside. "Tweedledee and Tweedledumpy have been in there for two hours, going over back issues of Hudson. Now, he's actually trying to rip off his own dead brother!" Evil Marc squeals. Wilhelmina replies, "It couldn't be any easier if I gave him a gun and he aimed it at his foot." They chortle evilly, as I wonder why Daniel isn't doing this in his giant, spacious, private office, where Betty can still answer his phone.