Serena Fug Der Woodsen

Dec 3, 2009 By Heather AT 1:45 pm

Please join me as I take you through the horrors of Ms. Serena van der Woodsen’s Thanksgiving wardrobe. It was a slow burn, because whoever directed the episode cleverly tried as hard as possible to shield our young eyes from the carnage, but our blissful ignorance couldn’t last forever. And so, join me as I went through the five stages of grief.

STAGE I: DENIAL

[Screencaps: GossipGirlOnline.net]

“What? No. Serena Van Der Woodsen is not going to wear a shirt with that much cleavage to her family’s Thanksgiving meal. That her married boyfriend and his wife are attending. Who are called Van Der Bilt. Someone needs to get a Van Der Naming Dictionary. Seriously? This won’t happen, right?”
STAGE II: ANGER

“WELL. Not only did it HAPPEN, but she sat RIGHT ACROSS from her boyfriend’s wife so she could stare into his would-be mistress’s CLEAVAGE. Also, WHAT IS GOING ON WITH THIS OUTFIT? If that is pants, or a jumpsuit, I AM GOING TO STOMP AROUND MY HOUSE VERY LOUDLY. HULK SMASH.”
STAGE III: BARGAINING

“Listen, Gossip Girl, we can fix this. It doesn’t have to be what I think it is, does it? You can still have her turn around and it’s black pants and a shirt. And it’s not a GOOD shirt — in fact it’s a very “And now I’ll perform my free skate to ‘You Don’t Bring Me Flowers’” shirt — but it would at least be a SEPARATE shirt. Right? It’s not too late for us, is it? Please, do this for me. If you do, I’ll stop complaining about how I think Kristen Bell’s voice over is overly twee and beside-the-point now. I will. I REALLY will. MAKE THIS END WELL.”
STAGE IV: DEPRESSION.

“Well. This didn’t end well:

“I just… I can’t deal with this. There is a zipper growing like beanstalk out of Blake Lively’s rump meridian, and I don’t know how to be in a world where such things are allowed to happen. Not even with Blair there looking so adorable. She’s just a decoy. She’s there so the universe can trick me into feeling optimism. But no. There is none. That appears to be a heinous black jumpsuit, and it’s giving her a monster wedgie, and I just want to crawl under the cover with a case of Shiner Bock and some of those Waffle Fries snacks in cheddar flavor and maybe a cheesecake and watch Golden Girls reruns and weep. FOR HUMANITY.”
STAGE V: ACCEPTANCE

This is actually the stage I’m still struggling with, because I REFUSE to be okay with Serena wearing a men’s figure-skating outfit to sit around the family table and give thanks for, like, boob tape and unavailable politicos who hate their wives. This show is asking me to believe that:
1) Serena managed to get herself a PR job despite having no training in that arena, except for a talent for getting her own photo taken;
2) Serena is hot for a wishy-washy married Congressman, when she could have Nate. NATE. HAVE YOU SEEN NATE, SERENA? HE IS HOT. FOR YOU.
3) The aforementioned wishy-washy married Congressman would decide to leave his wife on his first week in office FOR A NINETEEN-YEAR OLD.
4) The aforementioned wishy-washy married Congressman would decide to leave his wife on his first week in office for a nineteen-year old who wears jumpsuits like that in public.
So, yeah. I stalled out after Stage IV and went straight back to Stage II. Oops. This show really should’ve taken a page from The Big Book Of One Tree Hill and done a jump forward four years. Not only can you reshuffle the deck any way you want and dangle a ton of little mysteries at us like carrots, but then these idiots could be out of college and trying to work/be professional socialites in a realistic way, and not an “EXCUSE ME YOU ARE NOT EVEN OLD ENOUGH TO DRINK MUCH LESS RUN A HOTEL WITH A LIQUOR LICENSE” kind of way. Yes, that’s right, I said it: The world of TV has much to learn from One Tree Hill. Especially because nobody on that show wears lace-front jumpsuits.
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