“The L Word” recap (3.1): “Labia Majora”

 

THIS WEEK’S L WORD VOCABULARY:

Burnt curtains, wiff-waff, etc.: The female genitalia. And there’s plenty more where that came from. So to speak.

Beauty: The antithesis of “baby-proof.”

Unbelievable: Leisha Hailey’s ability to turn something really wrong into something kinda funny.

THIS WEEK’S GUEST-BIANS: Kate Clinton sees through the über couple; Margot Kidder is Jenny’s not-so-super mom; Cynthia Stevenson is the supreme bitch; Lauren Lee Smith cooks.

Previously on The L Word — Was this perhaps thrown together at the last minute? Or is there some other reason it’s so choppy and weird? Oh, wait, I know why: because the last two seasons were choppy and weird.

A swingin’ encounter group — We’re in Palo Alto in 1973, and a bunch of liberated chicks are straddling hand mirrors. I like the ’70s lighting, truly. And I get that the zoom thing is also meant to evoke ’70s films, but must it be so incessant? The music, however (“It Ain’t the Meat, It’s the Motion”) is fab.

Each woman is reacting to the sight of her own vulva: the assessments range from “It’s beautiful” to “Doll, it looks like burnt curtains.” Har har. They continue to chat, and for some reason it’s a big event when someone passes the granola and almost spills it, but I’m not quite sure why that’s supposed to be funny. Don’t you dare get any granola near my burnt curtains! What?

One woman says that if it weren’t for this group, she’d still believe in the myth of the vaginal orgasm: “Thank you Sigmund Freud, you sexist pig.” Yes, he was probably that. But as a lot of us know, Anne Koedt didn’t get it entirely right either, especially when she said that the vagina is not even very “erotic,” let alone orgasmic. I mean, hello: wrong. Anyway, it doesn’t really matter where you aim from as long as you hit your target, no? Oh, shut up and pass the granola.

Another woman in the encounter group is rather overwhelmed: “I didn’t know… Chet, he’s just so fast.. and clumsy. I had no idea about the… um…” Ah, but someone else has an idea: that rather determined woman sitting next to you. Overwhelmed Girl excuses herself, and is soon followed by her friend, who just wants to tell her that she has a right to be sexually fulfilled. Tell her and, um, show her. I should be laughing at how soapy and pulpy and rather Ann Bannon it is, but it’s actually a little bit hot.

This is the way that we are forced to live — The new butch is in the montage. Nice suspenders. Some guy is there too. There are also two new producer credits, unless of course I was just too busy seizing to the theme song last season to read what was on the screen. Elizabeth Ziff and A.M. Homes. I am thrilled about one of them.

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