Physical! Physical! Come on and get physical! In a pair of Dior pumps and thigh high leggings. That was the theme of the shoot Rachel had to style for V magazine on this, the final episode of Season 2.
Rachel tells Brad that the concept is Olivia Newton-John “Physical” meets “Xanadu.” This, coupled with the fact that Brad is wearing impossibly tiny short shorts as she talks to him, makes this the gayest scene in RZP history. Hurray! Here is a trophy. Rachel says that Jessica Stam will be the model in the shoot, so looks like this may actually be a big time deal. Kadooz, Rachel!
Rachel talks to Brad about how she hasn’t been able to get in touch with Taylor, which segues to footage of Taylor driving her car and repeatedly ignoring Rachel’s calls while snorting and saying “ughhhhhhhhhhh.” Such a ray of sunshine, that one.
While Taylor is busy stealing all the presents in Whoville, Brad heads over to American Apparel to pick up some 80’s inspired workout gear. He’s greeted by an obnoxious hipster gay named Johnny, who some people who are as obsessed with TV as me may recognize from that one episode of “The Girls Next Door” when Kendra goes to the American Apparel factory to pick out shirts for the Playmate baseball team. Anybody? No? Ok, well, anyway, Johnny, who is like a cross between Paul Lynde and Leonardo DiCaprio’s character from “What’s Eating Gilbert Grape,” shrilly gives Brad a tour and asks him to gay marry him, while Brad looks really uncomfortable. It’s a rare situation when Brad is the butchest person in the room, but this is the case here. Brad thanks Johnny for the clothes and quickly makes his exit as Johnny shouts “Shtupp my tuchus!” after him.
Back at the studio, it’s serious time! Taylor has finally mustered up enough courage to air her grievances with Rachel. They talk about the Paris issue, and Rachel reiterates that Brad should have stepped up, but Taylor says that she wanted Brad to go. She comes off as very level headed in this argument, and after Taylor threatens to leave, Rachel finally agrees to take her along to more branding opportunities and that sort of thing. So I guess Taylor succeeded?
(Before we move on, can I just say, Taylor’s demands are a little unreasonable. Like, it’s a company of 3 people. Of course when a new branding or moneymaking opportunity comes up it’ll be Rachel who’s mainly involved with it. It’s not like she’s working for some huge fashion house or anything. Reel in the expectations, girl.)
Anyway, as a peace offering Rachel takes Taylor to New York City to meet with a company she is partnering with to put out a fragrance. The ladies don their lab coats (why do people always have to wear lab coats when they play with fragrances?) and head into the “lab.” After sampling a few fecal perfumes with obnoxious names like “Hollywood,” Rachel finally picks a fragrance she likes for it’s earthy smell. Rachel tells everyone that she used to dunk herself in patchouli oil in college, which immediately makes me picture Rachel, nude in a candelit bathtub full of scented oils, hair adorned with daisies and ribbons, as a sitar plays softly in the background. Oh what I would give to see her in her crunchy phase…
After the sinister scent labs, it’s off to Pennsylvania to visit the QVC headquarters, which is decidedly not buh-nanas. The two are there to hawk Rachel’s line of faux fur vests, which are hideous. It was really enjoyable to see the QVC hostess try to sell the vests as if they weren’t horrible. Give that woman an Oscar! But whatevs, it makes Taylor and Rachel happy, so good for them.
They head back to LA where they have to jump back into planning the V shoot, which everyone is freaking out about because they only have 48 hours to style the whole thing. However, Brad is able to “wrangle a Gucci tunic” among other things, so the planning panic is resolved rather quickly, as usual.
Next it’s time to cast male models for the shoot. They say they want beefcake muscley models, but they mostly get ricecake skinny boys. However, at the eleventh hour a retarded but well built gentleman by the name of (San) Leandro arrives, golden pecs glistening in the noonday sun, and the day is saved. Rachel and Brad get all girly and giggly and tell San Leandro he’s hired.
Later, Rachel’s dad comes for a visit and they talk about nothing of note. The same usual babble babble stress babble babble Taylor babble babble faux fur vest. Moving on.
The next day, it’s the big V shoot! Everyone shows up stressed out and pissy, and Jessica Stam looks all cokey and bitchy and “whatever, I just take picture and make hundreds of thousands of dollars.” Girl does dress up nice though, and can take a pretty good picture. They pose her in a series of segments with dumb-as-Melba-Toast Leandro, but get behind and are only able to shoot 6 segments instead of 8. Rachel touts the photo shoot as a success, but to me 75% of your promised delivery isn’t much of an accomplishment. It’s all about spin!
Back at the studio, Taylor tells Brad and Jordan to help her move stuff. When they refuse, she bitches them out and screams “YOU DON’T RESPECT ME!” before storming out of the room like a gigantic straw-haired chain-smoking baby.
Meanwhile, Rachel’s “vertigo” has morphed into “sinus migraine,” so she and Rodger make a return visit to Dr. Cwynar (pronounced KWEE-NAR, like a Klingon), who tells her she needs to scale back on the stressful activities. While I’m sure she’s probably right, I doubt that “de-stress your life” is the answer to all that ails her, and I also noticed that “eat right” wasn’t part of her recommendation. See a real doctor, not this dietician quack! So anyway, KWEE-NAR tells Rachel to de-stress or she will die. Die!
Shaken by the news that her job is killing her, Rachel calls a team meeting with Brad, Taylor, and Rodger. Taylor shows up wearing sunglasses, and refuses to take them off like an asshole. Rachel announces that in order to preserve her health, Rodger will be taking over as business manager for the Rachel Zoe brand, and his first order of business will be to build a ball pit and a bouncy castle so he can giggle and yell “BOUNCE-A BOUNCE-A BOUNCE-A!” Just kidding, he actually acts pretty businesslike, and Brad and Taylor are all “WTF?” That is, until Rachel announces that she will be making Taylor “Head of Product Development” and Brad “Head of Styling.” So, everyone got promotions, sorta, and Rachel got to not die.
And there you have it. Season 2 all wrapped up in a neat little bow, all of a sudden in the last ten minutes of the episode. This season was definitely a little lackluster, so here’s hoping next season will fare better. I wonder what’s in the cards? Rachel gains 100 pounds now that she’s not working as much? Brad gets a mean coke addiction to keep up to pace with the styling? Taylor creates a new line of Rachel Zoe-brand feminine hygiene products? So many possibilities!
Shutting it down on RZP season 2! What will I do with my Mondays now?
Unclear.
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