Oh my darlings, how, HOW, could I have abandoned you like that? I can't tell you how ashamed I am that I may have let so many of you down. I don't even have any good excuses for it. Mostly, I got kind of busy with ugh, jobs, and then a major international move. Plus, Netflix doesn't have them available on streaming anymore (I thought they might bring them back right before the fourth season aired, BUT NO), so it's a little more effort to access again. Should I start a Kickstarter to fund purchasing the whole series on Blu-Ray? Would anyone actually donate?
I also, I admit, lost steam a little after the first four posts, which I had all prepared before posting the first one. But I'm back in the saddle, minus the riding habit and the creepy Turkish diplomat, and ready to tackle the last three episodes of Season One, and dive into Season Two, Three and even Four! I do hope you can forgive me. If you need refreshers, here are the links to the first four posts:
Episode One: http://costumequibbling.blogspot.com/2014/01/downton-abbey-season-1-episode-1.html
Episode Two: http://costumequibbling.blogspot.com/2014/01/downton-abbey-season-1-episode-2.html
Episode Three: http://costumequibbling.blogspot.com/2014/01/downton-abbey-season-1-episode-3.html
Episode Four: http://costumequibbling.blogspot.com/2014/01/downton-abbey-season-1-episode-4.html
And, as a bonus, a picture of Michelle Dockery and Dan Stevens glaring at me:
 |
Source. Beautiful, vampire-like people, angry at being neglected.
|
Ok. Penance complete. Let's get to it.
Servant Scene. NinjAnna and Gwen are making the bed in the Red Room. Daisy’s cleaning the fireplace and suffering from The PTSD That Dares Not Speak Its Name. You know, the kind you get from watching your bosses drag a corpse through the house. We cut to a shot of the exterior of the house that lets us know summer’s in full roar (well, as much as an English summer can be said to roar), and now we’re watching the Quality eat breakfast. Mary’s in black and white (kind of dowdy with that cardigan, but the tassels on the collar are very chic), Edith is in a midnight-blue thing, and Sybil, having made her harem-pants splash, is back in the lilac dress with white collar she wore to greet the Duke. They may still be in some form of mourning; at some point I caught the date, and it’s August 1912 or 1913.
Mary snarks at her father about her aunt Rosamund’s supposed freedom and leisure (“plenty of money and a house all to herself in Eaton Square”), and declares herself envious. Probably because of all the pesky sisters and grandmammas and heirs apparent she’s smothering in, but remember that in 1912, a woman on her own, who was widowed and past her prime, even a wealthy one, was to be pitied and shunned even more than she would be now. And don’t kid yourself, Mary is just as aware of that as everyone else. Her father flicks a letter to Sybil before removing himself from his tiresome spawn, and the scene cuts to a very satisfied pair of hands clasped across a lilac derrière, bearing the good news of another interview to her pet project, Gwen.
 |
| Source. Any guesses as to who's in that painting? I think it's one of the Kings Charles. |
Here’s what’s cool about this scene: the last time we saw this dress, it was from farther away and only briefly, because she was just part of the family and not really essential to the scene (the shot I posted in the entry about it was a still photo and not included in the show). So all we got was a look at the color, appropriate for half-mourning, and that girlish white collar and cuffs. Now that she’s being all proactive and getting her own scenes, she’s shot from closer, and the dress reveals itself to be much more detailed: there’s lovely lavender or blue embroidery on both the collar and the dress, and the buttons grouped in threes, patch pockets, and spear of white down the middle of the bodice (with yet more buttons) are charming and delightful details, which we appreciate all the more now that we care about her. Costumes that develop with the characters! Will wonders never cease!
 |
| Source. |
Crawley Cottage. Matthew and Isobel are debating Edith’s intentions in dragging them (well, him) around churches. Isobel has it right. She’s in another forceful magenta suit with some rather garish detailing on the color and belt and paired with an elaborately lacy and embroidered blouse. Dreadfully middle class. Clearly she’s still not able to lash out for the best tailoring, and she won’t be until Matthew inherits, although she probably won’t even then—she was probably raised to avoid extravagance. Matthew is late for work and thus wearing his usual black office drag. He’s also a bit grumpy about poor Edith. Molesley shuffles in and asks if he can leave early to help his father with the village fair. Whatever, Molesley.
Servant Scene. Thomas is pinching wine. That’ll get you fired even now—I was a butler for a diplomat for several years, and losing or miscounting a bottle of wine always conjured horrible visions of a sacking and no references. NinjaBates nearly catches him. He is a ninja, after all. But my real question is, why is Thomas stealing wine? Does he drink it? I bet it’s good stuff, but a working man like him would probably prefer ale or gin (unless the Duke introduced him to nobler pleasures during the Summer of the Swallows). Could he be fencing it for extra cash? His wages aren’t very high, but they’re not dismal, and he gets room and board so he can save up a lot. I think he does this sort of thing for the thrill of it—he’s already shown himself to be sort of a sociopath in dealing with people, plus he can’t be the man he truly is in his day and age, so he gets his kicks from transgressions of a lesser sort.
Robert, in his perfect brown suit, finds Cora out on her bench “sorting out the wretched flower show”. She, like the others, is still in a dark dress. Her Smackdown dress? I don’t think so. But it’s got some neat detailing at the collar. Robert’s letter from Rosamund had some worrying news: Mary’s rejection by the Duke carries a whiff of wrongdoing on her part, or so the gossip goes. Cora does a fine job covering for the whole mess, but doesn’t deny that this isn’t good news and Mary needs to find someone soon, then suggests Anthony Strallan: Robert’s age, and “dull as paint”. Yeah. That’ll totally happen.
Servant Scene. O’Brien bustles in with her sewing basket and fusses at William not to polish silver at the same table where she and NinjaAnna are sewing, Daisy’s shelling nuts or something, and Gwen, Thomas, and NinjaBates are taking a break. And quite right she is too: silver polish stains cloth and will do foodstuffs no good at all. But William’s lonely in the pantry! Awww. Daisy makes the mistake of calling attention to herself, and everyone piles on about what she saw and how she feels and ghosts and death and OH GOD JUST LEAVE ME ALONE. Unfortunately, she also makes the mistake of trying to misdirect by going on about the various tragedies (the Titanic, Mr. Pamuk), and good old William asks what all that’s got to do with Lady Mary’s bedroom. Man, you can practically see the gears turning behind Thomas’ eyes.
The Village Hall. LOVE that green-and-gold paint. Molesley is setting up a big banner that reminds us it’s all about the flowers. Isobel shows up the same suit as earlier and makes trouble with Lady Violet, who’s dressed for battle in another rerun, the patterned lavender ensemble. Mourning clothes were too expensive and special to buy lots of. Molesley doesn’t want to touch this rumble with a ten-foot clown pole and introduces his father, who also looks like he’d rather eat bees than talk about who’s won the Best Rose Cup, year in and year out. Isobel and Lady V purse their lips at each other. This isn’t over.
 |
| Source. Mr. Molesley has got to be used to The Dowager's supreme bitchiness by now. |
O’Brien, wearing her patented expression of resentment, comes across Thomas lurking in a stairwell. I see that stairwells serve the same purpose at Downton Abbey as they do at Dunder Mifflin. She thinks he spread the gossip about Mary, for which Napier’s being blamed. But Thomas told a valet friend of his, although he swears he didn’t go into specifics. Problem is, his friend valets for a blabbermouth. So that’s another strike against him, and he’s already worried about NinjaBates and the wine. O’Brien tells him to get NinjaBates first. Silly O’Brien, you can’t get the drop on a ninja!
Sometime later (after dinner for sure), Robert’s swanning around in his smoking jacket and comes across Sybil, who’s wearing the same pale-blue silk with the wide satin belt from the last episode. She needs the cart to take Gwen to her interview, but she can’t tell anyone why, so Robert tells her not to risk the traffic. Traffic! In 1912! FIVE cars parked and three more passed by! Aren’t we quaint!
Servant Scene. Daisy is trapped like a lamb between two wolves as O’Brien and Thomas converge on her. They don’t get much from her, but those two don’t need much.
Mary’s walking in the village in the same ice-and-navy blue outfit as last time, so we know this scene won’t provide much in the way of advancement, and certainly no closure, to this storyline. She does a not-very-convincing job of ignoring Matthew on his bike and then pretending she wasn’t paying attention. They discuss Rosamund and Edith, and he tips his hand a little by assuring Mary that Edith is in for a letdown, should she continue her advances.
Servant Scene. Poor Daisy literally gets caught with her hand in Lady Sybil’s cookie jar (I mean, biscuit barrel. Hee). Polishing it, indeed. Her sooty fingers shouldn’t be anywhere near it, but this is small potatoes for Carson and it’s not really his job to scold the maids. Gwen gets herself taken out of commission by faking sick.
Down in the kitchen, Mrs. Patmore being obstinate about new recipes for flimsy reasons. Mrs. Hughes and Cora ought to be able to figure out something’s up if Mrs. P. is fussing about a dish like that. Seriously, apple Charlotte is dead easy. Daisy offering to read it to her doesn't end well—for Daisy. If you listen to Mrs. Patmore’s (bellowed) last lines carefully, she foreshadows her problem by comparing to Daisy to Judas, the betrayer of Jesus. Daisy’s dangerously close to revealing all sorts of skeletons, isn’t she?
Sybil, in a lovely gray suit and hat, drives expertly through some back entrance to the manor in her little cart (it was designed to be easy to handle, even by a woman, hence the term “governess’ cart”: one horse and two seats) to pick up Gwen, who looks pretty good in her borrowed maroon suit even though it clashes with her hair. Now, class, who else in this series wears maroon, raised her station in life (from doctor’s widow to dowager, although it sort of landed in her lap), and defies convention? Isobel, that’s right! Are we seeing some parallels?
Notice, though, that it’s much simpler and more elegant than most of Isobel’s clothes, and therefore more appealing to modern eyes. Which makes sense, since both Sybil and Gwen are young. Actually, it’s probably much too high-quality—lovely fabric, excellently cut, pretty fashionable—for someone like Gwen to even dream of owning, and the interviewers are going to be able to tell, if they pay attention. Sybil’s less-arresting gray indicates that she’s not the main player in this scene; this is all about Gwen becoming a woman of the new century. But look at the maroon in Sybil's hat and the grey in Gwen's! Two peas in a progressive pod.
Servant Scene. NinjAnna gratefully accepts help from her Ninja Twin in making the bed. Ow, anvil! Fall on someone else’s head. They give us a little exposition about Edith and Patrick (hold that thought for 2 seasons: Edith was in love with Patrick Crawley), misquote Kipling, and get all gooey with each other about love and death and not being able to tell someone how you feel.
Nervous Gwen is nervous, sitting in that office, but at least she’s early! And as Emily from Slings and Arrows can tell you, it’s good to be early. Someone in a much cheaper suit than Gwen’s exits the interview room with a satisfied smile, which makes her twitch even more.
The Dower House, the setting for Round Two of Isobel and Lady Violet’s flower-show battle. I can’t tell if Lady V truly does think she deserves the prize year after year for the quality of her blooms, or thinks she deserves the prize because she’s rich, or if she just doesn’t want to deal with Isobel. Probably a combination of all three. Isobel is in the same suit. Violet is in a lovely peacock blue dress we haven’t seen before, as luxurious and lovely (and dated) as the last one, and she wins this round, and so does tradition.
Gwen bolts out of the office after a surprisingly short interview.
NinjaBates comes across Robert fussing over his snuffboxes, one of which is missing. But why would it be? Ominous violins, and one ominous cello, tell us all we need to know.
Sybil and Gwen have experienced the Edwardian equivalent of a blown tire—a lost horseshoe—and are seeking help, which they don’t find because the local farrier is out of town for a week, tending to the hoses on another estate (imagine having so many horses it takes a WEEK to fit and shoe them all!). At least the blowout can walk and they don’t have to leave it somewhere. But they WILL have him boiled for glue if he doesn’t stop snacking and push on! Which he does abruptly, casting both girls into the mud. Squelch.
 |
| Source. In the unrated version of the series, they get into a catfight now. |
Everyone back at the house is worried about Sybil. Cora also takes this opportunity (while being put into her sparkly black gown and mourning jewels) to muse on the trials of raising daughters, which isn’t resembling the idyll of Little Women and other fairy tales one bit. But, it seems Gwen and Sybil got back eventually, because when NinjAnna goes upstairs to check on Gwen during (or just after) dinner, there she is, in her nightdress and looking “done in”, presumably from whatever ails her. But NinjAnna knows. Oh yes, she knows. And very sympathetic about it she is, too. Awww.
Edith is writing at her desk in another hey-audience-pay-attention red-and-gold dinner dress (or maybe the same one, I can’t tell) when O’Brien walks in. Ostensibly she’s just there to tell that Sybil’s home safe, but she’s heard from Cora (and probably knew anyway) that the Sisters Three are not allies, so she’s got it in mind to sow a little discontent by going to Edith with what Daisy might know about Mr. Pamuk—also, probably, because Lady Edith can compel Daisy the kitchenmaid to spill the beans by virtue of her position. Laura Carmichael does a great job of appearing confused at first, then allowing barely a flicker of glee and Schadenfreude to cross her face when she hears that her haughty older sister, who always gets what she wants and the hell with anyone else, might be involved in less-than-virtuous goings-on. The red dress didn’t disappoint! Then she gets a great zinger in to Lady Mary, who looks very noble and ornate in a peachy dress with sparkly black overlay, about exactly said haughtiness.
 |
| Source. I think it's this one. |
Next morning, the interrogation begins. Edith is wearing a lovely soft printed blouse with wide elbow-length sleeves, and a dark blue skirt. Except for the quality of the materials, it’s strikingly similar in cut and style to what Daisy’s wearing. That makes the playing field seem more level, but the blue tones also convey authority, like a policeman. And Edith’s playing good cop, even sending Bad Cop O’Brien out of the room and getting Daisy’s name right with just the right amount of hesitation. Poor little Daisy doesn’t stand a chance.
The flower show preparations are underway Cora is in that magnificent brown-and-cream lady-of-the-manor outfit again. Lady Violet is a little more casual, in a purple skirt and blouse with an elaborate white lace jacket over it. Mary is hanging around in the gray suit she wore in the opening scene of Episode 4 (read: nothing new to see here, folks), and Isobel is the picture of innocence in all white. Except for Lady V’s hat, it’s Isobel who looks more like the aristocratic lady, between the two of them.
 |
| Source. |
Snipe, snipe, snipe, all the way home. Old Man Moseley’s got that deer-in-the-headlights look again. Matthew and Mary chitchat awkwardly. I love Matthew’s question about whether the dinner is “in aid” of anything; as in, pushing Mary towards one of the dreary neighbors. It is, but we’re not going to talk about it. Possibly Mary doesn’t know yet.
Dinner in the servants’ hall. Carson briefs everyone on the missing snuffbox. The camera lingers on NinjaBates. O’Brien and Thomas fake concern for NinjaBates. NinjAnna looks worried.
Mary’s in that red dress again. With black gloves. Uh oh. Cora slips in, wearing a Grecian-inspired pink thing. Kind of insipid, even with her coloring. She’s clearly trying to fade into the background so Dull-as-Paint Anthony Strallan will notice Mary. She even instructs Mary to “look after” the old boot, which Mary is none too pleased to hear. Then Cora breaks the news about the rumors in London, and that brings Mary up short. But she recovers quickly, telling her mother not to worry about her and to concentrate on Edith, who needs all the help she can get. Too bad Edith overheard her. Nice bit of camerawork there, putting her reflection in the glass of a portrait and then revealing her eavesdropping outside the door. This isn’t going to endear you to Edith at all, Mary, and that’s going to be a problem! Edith is wearing the same rosy mauve dress with a chiffon overlay as she was in Episode 4.
Servant Scene. Mrs. Patmore is bullying Daisy around. She pulls a dish of chicken out of the oven but misses the table she’s trying set it down on. The towel she’s using as a potholder slips, she burns herself, and the chickens go crashing to the floor. As she shrieks that it’s all Daisy’s fault, we get a great shot of a cat trying to drag off the chicken, which is almost as big as it is. I questioned this a little; for sure there’d be cats around to deal with the mice, but I don’t think Mrs. Patmore would let one roam around when she’s preparing food. Even if she could see properly, cats are terrible for getting underfoot. Thanks to a quick line from Gwen, it turns out it belongs in the stables, so it got in somehow. NinjAnna is apparently a devotee of the 5-second rule: she just scoops up the chickens, dusts them off, and sets them on their platters. By the time the footmen come in for the next course, it’s all fixed and no one’s the wiser. Mrs. Patmore makes another significant quip about what the eye can see, and it’s off with the floor-chickens to the dinner table, where Strallan is boring everyone with pronouncements about farming. Edith sees her opportunity to put one over on her sister (and maybe snag a husband in the bargain), and pretends to care about fairness to employees. Careful, Sir Anthony, she’s the Edwardian equivalent of the Fake Geek Girl*! She sells her enthusiasm very well, but seriously? “Please show me one of your new harvesters”? You have to be pretty old and desperate to fall for that one. Mary, who misses nothing, simply bides her time.
Down in the kitchens, it’s all about the Case of the Missing Snuffbox. NinjAnna snarks at Thomas and then gets creeped out by O’Brien, who’s just standing there. Who else covets that “Household Wants Indicator” for their kitchen? PBS.org had one for sale for a while, along with a truly awful tea set and a few other bits and bobs, which turned out to be unlicensed and got them into some trouble, so now it’s gone. Should’ve bought it when I saw it. It’s only money after all. Anyway, the raspberry meringue (much prettier than apple Charlotte, which is tasty but sort of lumpy and brown) is about to be sent up to the table, when Mrs. P grabs a crock and sprinkles a few spoonfuls of the contents onto the dishes. Now, you’d have to be pretty inattentive (or totally ignorant of tropes in modern media) not to suspect that maybe whatever’s in the crock isn’t what Mrs. Patmore thinks it is. On the other hand, it’s been done once before already this season, when Daisy nearly poisons the chicken in the first episode, and I’m not entirely convinced that containers for salt and sugar would have looked similar enough or be kept near enough to each other for Mrs. P. to confuse them. Still, she is in the middle of a major dinner party, so her counters and tables are covered with supplies not in their usual homes, or maybe she’s lost her so much of her sight by this point she’s navigating with sonar, like a bat.
Now we’re back in the dining room, waiting for the Dessert of Doom to be served, and we get to see Mary behaving nicely toward Matthew, for once. I suppose that compared with Sir Anthony, even Matthew is good company. Her comment that Sir Anthony is a bore because he talks about “farming and foxes by the hour” strikes me as somewhat disingenuous; given the times, I’m betting half the younger men she knows are at least that dull, if not more so. Remember Robert telling us that Evelyn Napier’s father never talked about anything but racing? It wasn’t uncommon. The Upper Class Twit stereotype had to come from somewhere. And Mary loves to ride and hunt! I don’t get it. But anyway, Mary and Matthew are having a riotous time, by comparison, joking about the flower show, and there’s a quick shot of Robert beaming at them, having obviously held out some hope that Mary would solve all his problems by marrying Matthew. Don't bet on it, just yet, Bobbo. See? In the very next shot, Matthew suggests showing Mary the cottages and she doesn't exactly bounce up and down in her chair at the prospect, although I can’t imagine it’s any more fun than going to look at a piece of farm equipment. FINALLY, Sir Anthony takes a bite of dessert and freaks out rather more than is necessary. It’s just salty fruit, man! Cora samples it, announces it’s inedible to the rest of the table, and apologizes profusely. Mary loses it and starts giggling, though whether over the mis-garnished dessert or Sir Anthony’s over-the-top reaction to is hard to tell. Julian Fellowes screws up early 20th-century etiquette AGAIN by having the characters discuss the incident and mention the servants, which is the last thing any Edwardian peer would have done; after some apologies, he and his wife would have changed the subject and no one would have mentioned it EVER AGAIN. Some people might even have sacked the cook over a mistake like that, although that would have been seen as unusually cruel, since the guests were neighbors and friends and not the Prince of Wales or something.
We cut to a sobbing Mrs. Patmore trying to pass the buck on to Daisy and hide her affliction, but Carson won’t let her, and he finally gets it out of her that she’s losing her vision.
 |
| Source. |
Meanwhile the Ninja Twins conspire to find the snuffbox in its hiding place (in Bates’ room, as NinjAnna has correctly deduced that Thomas planted it there), and “fight fire with fire” by implicating either Thomas or O’Brien. NinjaBates calls his Twin a “naughty girl”, which, ugh, ok, we get it, JUST NAIL HER ALREADY. But it’s 1913, so we just cut to the ladies filing into the drawing room, Sybil making anachronistic comments about Cora going to see Mrs. Patmore downstairs (she wouldn’t have, because how many times do I have to say this, you didn’t discuss the servants in front of guests!!) and Mary and Edith going after each other again. It’s not a very interesting scene until the men show up, so take the time to look at some of the extras’ costumes. They're never going to be seen again and they’re not crucial to the plot, so the costume designers can have a little more fun with their clothing than the main characters’. There are always, in historical periods, some styles that look hideous or seriously weird to modern eyes, so much so that they distract from the plot or the character wearing them, but a smart costumer slips a few in (probably to satisfy their own sense of accuracy) on a lesser player, especially an extra or two, in a crowd scene. Check out the white embroidered dress that the woman behind Cora is wearing, or the weird little hat-thing on the one next to Mary on the sofa. Mary and Edith snipe at each other and Edith foolishly lets Mary take up the challenge of tempting Sir Anthony away from her. This is an excellent time to point out (like it wasn’t already obvious) that Edith is dressed as second fiddle to Mary: don’t go up against the Lady in Red when you’re only in pink! When the men arrive, Mary easily catches Sir Anthony’s attention again, but I’m not entirely sure this isn’t because a) she’s the eldest and b) they were dinner-table partners, both of which might make Sir Anthony feel obligated to pay attention to her.
 |
| Source. You lose, Edith! |
Edith trudges over to the equally snubbed Matthew, who immediately fakes a headache and departs. Burn. Mary runs to catch him, but he’s gone, girl. Robert sees the whole thing go down, then vaguebooks about it to Cora.
Meanwhile, Anna rather heavy-handedly gets Carson to launch a search of the servants’ quarters for the missing snuffbox. After a dinner party? I don’t think so, Fellowes! It’s probably midnight at this point, if the servants are lounging around with no more cleanup to do (although O’Brien wouldn’t have had to do much more than maybe put away some clean plates or something while she waited for Cora to go to bed. Ladies’ maids didn’t do kitchen work). Carson would much more likely have waited until the next day. Still, the sight of the Evil Twins scrambling about is pretty funny.
Matthew gets home and almost confides in his mother (what? Why wasn’t she invited? Or, for that matter, Lady Violet?), but he doesn’t, and we don’t get much more than a glimpse of Isobel’s very conventional dress with net covering her from bodice to neck, and a brooch at the throat. That she put on to eat dinner. By herself. Very traditional and motherly, but he still doesn’t want to pour out his heart to her. Awww.
Flower show! The Crawleys stop to admire the offerings at the Molesley table. They’re in the whitest of whites for summer: Robert in a white linen suit (I wish men still wore these) with a green satin tie to match the town hall paint job, and Cora in a signature luxurious ensemble with big black frog appliques and a stunning hat.
 |
| Source.
Lady Violet is rocking some dated but still elegant pieces (although she may have had those sleeves taken in from their original turn-of-the-century poofiness), and the Sisters Three sport some pretty, stylish frocks.
|
 |
| Source. |
 |
| Source. |
The next scene shows the servants going too, with the Ninja Twins lagging behind. NinjAnna is a column of innocence and purity next to her older, sadder Twin, but under the heavy black coat and hat is a nice lighter suit. So he’s not the villain that Thomas in his all-black clothing is, or the dumpy grouch that O’Brien is, in her loose gray. He’s just got baggage, and secrets.
 |
| Source. |
NinjAnna has had just about enough of them, so she tries to get him to tell her his secrets, which she (only half incorrectly) thinks are tied to his feelings for her. Yes, he’s been married, but there’s more to it, and he’s not a free man, but NinjAnna doesn’t care, because she loohves you, Mester Baaaeeeehhts, and he’s just about to look into her eyes and tell her—HEY WOULD ANYONE LIKE A RIDE ON THIS HAY CART?!** Cockblocked by a horse-drawn carriage. That’s cold.
Back at the flower show, Sybil talks to Gwen, who’s received yet another rejection letter. Poor thing, she couldn’t look more out of place in her heavy plaid jacket and lumpy maroon hat. She really needs to get herself a job and get out! Sybil is cute but unremarkable in a gauzy dress with a dark print over the white. Another proto-cloche, though—she’s really developing her style!
 |
| Source. |
Mary and Matthew have a brief and uncomfortable exchange—Mary tries to explain things she really shouldn’t, and Matthew has put up his defenses to Mary again, so she can’t hurt him. It’s sad. Edith slithers up and taunts her sister, who gives it right back in the form of some nasty fashion commentary. She’s right, though; Edith’s hat is pretty enough, if a little jejune, but her dress is overly poofy and neither flattering nor alluring. When Mary huffs off, Edith notices that O’Brien is watching her, taking it all in. Those two are up to something.
Now’s a good time to show off a little costume gossip I picked up from one of the companion books: of the dresses worn by the Sisters Three, Mary’s was handmade for this production, Edith’s is borrowed from the “Brideshead Revisited” wardrobe stock, and Sybil’s is an honest-to-god Edwardian summer frock in marvelous condition. I think that’s very cool and very typical of how costume staffs pull together their wardrobes.
Lady Violet does the right thing and gives Old Man Molesley the prize for best flowers, something she probably considers nothing short of revolutionary, but it’s heartwarming and it proves that maybe under all that Belle Epoque stuffiness she’s really listening to everyone after all.
 |
| Source. Not that she'd ever admit it. |
The final scene is Edith finishing up a letter to…the Turkish Ambassador. Uh oh!
*I want to make it perfectly clear that I use this term tongue-in-cheek and have serious issues with the whole FGG hysteria, as I am a genuine Geek Girl myself. For more information, click here: http://randomredux.tumblr.com/post/35698623762/the-fake-geek-girl-has-got-to-go
**hat tip to the good folks at TVTropes.com http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Series/DowntonAbbey?from=Main.DowntonAbbey
No comments:
Post a Comment