The show is not bananas, it’s not maj, it’s not even kind of good. Nobody died, there wasn’t a single gif-worthy eyeroll, and Rodger wasn’t even on camera long enough for me to mock. Instead, we got perhaps the most boring half hour of television since the WPIX Yule Log.

But whatever. Fashionably Late With Rachel Zoe is over, just like its host.

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Welcome to the second season of House Of DVF, where fashion icon and walking wrap dress Diane Von Furstenberg conducts the most elaborate job interview ever to find its new brand ambassador. Basically, the job candidates have to work for DVF until all but one drop. But…what are they gonna do with the old brand ambassador, Brittany Hampton? I guess just toss her on the heaping pile of former somethingorothers because she’s about to be replaced. But before that happens, she is contractually obligated to help select her upgrade, with a smile and a smize. Wait, no, wrong show. Anyway, to the reaping!

The interviews begin where all good things should, in New York. Diane and Brittany are assisted in the arduous task of selecting the next brand ambassador by two executive-ish assistants, Brunette and Redhead. Brunette interviews potential candidates in her office, whereas Redheaded conducts her interviews at…a bar? Sure, why not.

Brunette and Redhead run their picks past Diane via iPad. One of the candidates, Cat, has the balls to say that the cool kids aren’t wearing DVF, which, truth. This earns her a for realsies interview along with Chantal, who is no more interesting than a tub of low fat yogurt. There’s also Jeremy who styled someone important with nothing but a ring, and Maytee, who lost a hundred pounds to be there because heaven forbid anyone in the fashion industry weight as much as a normal human.

Aaaand Chantal vomits. Diane is not impressed.

The candidates’ first task is to take photos of something inspiring behind the scenes at a fashion show with nothing but their wits and an iPad. So, pretty much just an iPad. And if there’s anything more annoying than having your photo taken while you are working, it’s having your photo taken with a giant freaking iPad.

Cat Balls Out walks up to Anna Wintour in the front row and asks her an incomprehensible question for DVF dot com. Ms. Wintour looks frightened and alone, and I’m pretty sure someone is getting fired for allowing this to happen.

After the runway show, the four candidates show Diane their photos so that she can see the fashion show through their eyes. Cat kisses up with a photo of Diane, and she falls for it hard. Maytee hands over two unremarkable photos, but Diane likes her “joie de vivre.” Chantal tries to make up for vomiting with some action shots of the models feeling all the feels. Not bad, Chantal. Jeremy took close-ups of pants suits and it’s pretty awful. Diane does not feel that he captured the mood of the show. She hands him a gift bag and shoves him out the door.

With three candidates from the East Coast locked in, it’s time to sift through the peons on the West Coast. Brittnay asks one of the candidates how having a child affects her work life which I’m pretty sure would be a massive HR violation if this were a real job interview. Brunette and Redhead join forces to interview a lot of dingbats, including someone who calls outfits wowfits. A candidate gets bonus points for showing up in a wrap dress which, duh. Then, “My name is Allie, and I was actually born in an alley.” Oh FFS.

Diane invites her family, employees, and Christian Louboutin over for a slumber party to choose the final candidates, who all seem to have a modeling portfolio for a job that does not involve modeling. The group culls the herd to four annoying people plus one nice girl named Leah. There’s Hannah in a very fuzzy outfit, psychic/psycho Cree, Allie From The Valley (in head-to-toe bubblegum pink), and Breagan The Single Mom.

The five candidates are tasked with styling Rachel Zoe from whatever shmatas they can find in a DVF store, and somehow Allie sweats all over a dress before Rachel even arrives. Cree takes charge of the situation and welcomes Rachel to her humble home as each candidate explains why they chose their look. “I…love you in a gold moment?” Rachel Zoe has thoughts. She would not wear a jumpsuit to Vanity Fair. Cree’s above-the-knee dress is a no-no because Rachel does not show her knees, ever. Which makes me wonder if she’s smuggling two elderly men who are angry about their pudding underneath all of those maxi dresses. Hannah’s black sequined maxi dress with a plunging neckline is the clear winner. “That’s a moment…that’s a real moment.”

With four spots for five people, someone has to go home. Hannah stays because she won the styling challenge. Nice Leah gets to stay because she exhibited enthusiasm despite making no sense with her words. Cree was a clunker on her dress selection, but saved herself by leading the discussion when Rachel Zoe entered the room.

So, between Single Mom and Barbie’s Dreamhouse, Diane eliminates Single Mom because “first of all, never mention your child and sacrifice….” Sigh. Thanks, Diane Von Furstenberg, for setting such a lousy example for women everywhere. Single Mom already made the hard decision to leave her kid in what I assume are capable hands while she furthers her career and doesn’t need you second-guessing her parenting skills. I have heard that it’s entirely possible to raise a kid and work at the same time, but I guess that’s not an option at DVF.

Next week, the nine contestants will begin battling each other to the death for the opportunity to secure a job with a starting salary that couldn’t even buy you a Birkin Bag.

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Last week, Rachel infested my beloved New York City. This week, she has retreated back into the warm embrace of Los Angeles.

We find Rachel in the kitchen, plucking miniaturized clothing out of bags. She calls them Gucci and Blueberries, and they are for her infant son. But lest ye judge, it’s all good because she “gives away” so many baby clothes. Can you imagine going to a Salvation Army and finding a pair of Baby Prada Loafers? That would be so Maj.

Here are some things that were said by Rachel Zoe and the people who surround her:

• Ah mah gaht, ah mah gaht don’t get in an accident!
• Ah mah gaht there’s stars. Are we on the walk of fame?
• Ah mah gaht. President of the United States! Whoo whoo whoo whoo!
• I’m trying to style someone, like me, in all the different scenarios of my life, so that’s weird and uncomfortable for so many different reasons.
• It’s kind of about me, but I’m not in it I don’t think which, I ‘m happy about I don’t want to be in it.
• I think the rules have changed if there even are rules anymore. I mean, you’re in leather pants and a sweater.
• I want women to look at this story and be like oh okay, maybe I need to try a little harder.
• That was like the largest thing I’ve ever seen in my life, that was like a football field on the wall. What’s that other gorilla? Hong Kong? King Kong.
• I am Rachel Zoe. If you wind me up, I will go.

Rachel’s company has 30 employees in a 15,000 square foot office and they literally cannot move because it’s so cramped, even though I’ve never seen more than two people in her office at any one time and it’s not like anyone weighs more than a breadbox.

Rachel is doing styling for a photoshoot for Elle Magazine and it’s supposed to be about Rachel but not really about Rachel, so she steals a Miu Miu coat because in the end, it’s all about Rachel. She dresses up a model like a “business woman” which means a micro mini and hooker-height heels. There’s also a short red trenchcoat which I think is an outfit for a different kind of “working woman.” And then, Ah Mah Gawt, the photographer wants to dress up Rachel and take her photo. She puts up the tiniest bit of a fight before putting on a shirt with huge drapey armholes that show a tremendous amount of side ribcage. Side ribcage is what side boob used to be, before it gave up carbs.

Marisa is the director of brand partnership and leading the charge to make Rachel Zoe the face of Jockey underwear. Because when I think of Jockey, I think of leftover string cheese. Rachel’s driver brings her to the wrong studio for her Jockey photoshoot. When Rachel finally arrives, her assistant apologizes about a dozen times even though she had no control over the car.  There is a discussion about types of bangs, and another assistant loves them so the bangs stay. There is a wind machine and environmentally friendly aerosol hairspray (seriously, you’d have to be the stupidest person in the world to use aerosol anything nowadays).

Next week, a fog rolls into a photoshoot, as dos a man with a British accent.

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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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Lots of people told Rachel Zoe that they loved her runway show. So many, in fact, that she found two positive reviews in honest-to-goodness publications. The problem is, people don’t like her clothes, like, to wear.

After being grilled on camera about exactly how much they liked the collection during what was supposed to be a perfunctory market meeting between Nordstrom buyers and The Assistant Who Has An Ulcer, three blond ladies were at a loss for complimentary words. It was made even more awkward when Rachel Zoe herself rolled in, blathering on and on and on about how fabulous her clothes are how everyone is going to want to wear sequins because they are shiny and new. But good on those three blond buyers, because they did not yes Rachel to death. Instead, the most sugar coating they could offer was “I’m not sure our customer would wear that” and walked off with nothing more than a promise to consider an order for mint green leather shorts.

Some things we heard upon Rachel’s return to Los Angeles, organized in order of coherence, from Almost English to Gobbledygook:

• “You look amazing.” “Thank you, you look maj.”
• “Eileen is the newest member of my styling team, and she’s maj.”
• “New York was cray cray you guys.”
• “I literally can’t this morning”
• “These bangs are confusing me and you know I don’t like to look in a mirror.”

Rachel shlepped her crying toddler into work and dressed him in a fedora and beaded necklace because every small human needs accessories.

One of the office people has to explain to The Assistant Who Has An Ulcer that Rachel’s signature “maxi” pieces aren’t selling because nobody wants to wear a tent’s worth of fabric. They contemplate how, exactly, to break the bad news to their boss, and decide to go with the “good news, bad news” approach.

Unfortunately, there is no good news. When Rachel hears that nobody wants a floor length dress, she declares it “fashion bullshit,” which may be a type of Fabric Fatwa. Not knowing how to process this information, Rachel puts on a fur hat to make herself feel better, and it is one of the few likable moments of the entire show.

Next week, it’s the runways of Paris which are probably literally maj. Or something.

Photo by bravotv.com

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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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