Rachel Zoe is frustrated that her sequined maxi skirts didn’t sell in the United States, so she goes to Paris and tries to pawn them off on Europeans. Her husband, Roger, has red dots all over his body. Does he have bedbugs? I hope he has bedbugs. Or, as they say in Paris, le cooties. 

Rachel stumbles upon her toddler in a park and takes him on a carousel. These are all things Rachel Zoe says while on the carousel:

• OMG. OMG I’m going up and down.
• OMG, I’m going to die, get me off of it.
• OMG, OMG, can someone make this stop?
• OMG. There are so many germs on this thing.
• Carousel man, can we stop? I’m literally dying.

Rachel then causes chaos within her own company when she tells her minions that they need to send her more maxi skirts, which are like regular skirts only “to the max.” She wants them packed up and shipped to her in Paris yesterday, which she thinks is possible because of the difference in time zones. I’m a little unclear on why this task is so stressful. It’s literally putting dresses in garment bags and placing those bags in a box.

Speaking of minions, there is a weird, whiny little man in charge of painting Rachel’s face onto her skull. She calls him Joey, like a baby kangaroo. His job is awful.

Rachel Zoe strung together a medley of words about Paris fashion week:

• Every time I go to a Valentino show, I get kind of emotional.
• Going to a Chanel show, for me, every time is like the first time.
• The femininity, the youthfulness, the richness.
• I love tiaras, I wear them all day on my birthday.
• I think if you don’t stand for what you believe in, nobody believes you.
• Well it’s Montaigne Market. If you don’t come here, you come nowhere.

Next week, Rachel tries to figure out how to fit all of her maxi dresses into one Manhattan apartment.

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Last season, Rachel Zoe, a grizzled piece of burnt bacon, squirted a human out of her nether regions. This season, in addition to slapping oversized baubles and gewgaws on emaciated fameballs and giving her assistant an ulcer, Rachel’s literally making her own clothes. I mean she’s not sewing or anything, but still. This is maj.

To Rachel’s credit, she does light up when the nanny (and the only person of color within a five block radius) brings her son to the workroom for a brief visit. And she gets über enthusiastic at a few runway shows, gushing sophisticated word combinations such as:

• Where is the man of the hour, that was out of control amazing…I am the most disgusting person ever, let’s go dunk our heads in ice buckets. Congratulations, honey, I’ll see you tonight, okay? Somewhere, wherever, I love you, that was heaven, that was seriously heaven.

• There was some Anne Hathaway moments up there, for sure. 

• I plugged your Twitter.

Okay, so the last one was from Michael Kors. Anyway, Rachel Zoe’s runway show? Oof. Her clothes are more T.J. Maxx than Saks Fifth Avenue, so maybe she should stick to styling and leave the designing to the professionals.

Photo by bravotv.com

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