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“Cashmere Mafia” Recaps: Episode 1.7 “Dog Eat Dog”

Previously on – They say winners never quit and quitters never win. Well, they never met these girls. When we last saw them, Zoe had quit her high-powered job after she smacked her noggin on the glass ceiling. Juliet quit holding out hope for an amicable divorce. Mia quit holding onto the idea that Jack someday would accept her awesomeness for what it is. And then there’s Caitlin.

Alicia took one look at Caitlin’s enormous, hopeful brown eyes and thought to herself, “I wish I could quit you.” And her wish came true: She dumped Caitlin to run back to her nutty ex so they could have their stupid baby together.

Alicia didn’t deserve Caitlin or any of the toys Caitlin bought for her spawn. It may not feel like it right now, but Caitlin, honey, you dodged a bullet.

Personal best – It’s a crisp, autumnal day in New York City. The sweet aroma of honey-roasted peanuts mingles with the scent of burning chestnuts and the bready goodness of giant, warm pretzels, wafting from the food carts on every other corner. Or so I remember.

In reality, wind whips through the canyons of Wall Street and Midtown, sandblasting your face with street dirt. People sneeze their cold germs in your face on the subway, and when you walk into a store or restaurant, your hair is subjected to a downward blast of hot air from the establishment’s heater, which feels exactly like going through the last phase of a car wash. On the upside, the smell of urine is way down from the all-time highs of summer.

Mia and Jason are out for a run. Mia is sporting her Chinese poodle running jacket from Title Nine.

Making everything into a competition is second nature to our magazine mogul, but Jason has legs twice and long and a more aerodynamic hat, thank you very much. He passes her up, even though it nearly kills him to do so. Mia jokes that if only she had more than five hours’ sleep, then they’d see who the real champ is. I’d rather watch Chris Cahill run up a sand dune, to be honest.

Mia tries to make a date for breakfast, but Jason has no time when brains are waiting to be diagnosed as normal or abby normal. He suggests that Mia come for lunch at the hospital cafeteria. Partitioned trays, plastic sporks and stale Jell-O – always a good time. Too bad it’s too cold for Mia to wear a skort. With a tankini. She passes on his tempting offer, and they agree on a time they’re both free: o’dark thirty.

Free time – Meanwhile, Zoe is at home getting used to being unemployed. Still in her jammies, she’s thinking she needs to get the kiddies ready for school and make lunches, but that’s what their manny, Adam, is for. Eric has his job as an architect so they can keep paying for the help they no longer need, so he’s out the door. Zoe stares at herself in the mirror, wondering who got her office.

Consultant is just another word for unemployed – Later, after she’s leisurely read the New York Times front to back, watched the Today Show, done some yoga, and Googled herself for the hell of it, Zoe finally leaves the house to walk with Juliet and give financial insights on Juliet’s current sitch: A corporate raider billionaire named Len Dinerstein has purchased a suspiciously large chunk of stock in Juliet’s hotel company, and what does it all mean?

Zoe tells her pale friend she has some options. There’s the Pac-Man defense, in which she doubles back and gobbles up the would-be buyer. (And if she’s like me, gets greedy chasing cherries and gets trapped in a corner with nowhere to go.)

Then there’s the Lobster Trap, where people who own more than 10 percent of stock are prevented from voting by taking away their bibs and nutcrackers. And then there’s the Nancy Reagan tactic, which involves just saying “no” and staring with vacuous, cult-like admiration at the back of your spouse’s head.

Meanwhile, Zoe and Juliet break their bird-like diets and share a single muffin. Maybe they’ll go wild and get a scone tomorrow. Where will it end?

Yiddish for beginners – Over at Lily Parrish Cosmetics, Caitlin’s too busy to be crying over Alicia. In fact, it’s like their relationship never happened. Much like Jenny and Moira.

Lily is plotzing because her usual fashion designer has dropped the firm in favor of a bunch of stylish, Icelandic nobodies for Fashion Week, the biggest designer event of the year. Fashion Week is rushing up on them like the floor to a drunk’s face, and they have no one to hang their false eyelashes on.

Lily: That ungrateful little meiskeit. I was supporting that pishkeh when he was nothing! Caitlin:Blond, Irish, brother who’s a priest? The only Yiddish I know is shmear and shiksa. Translation?

Oh, Caitlin. How long have you been living in New York?

Yiddish is a wonderfully onomatopoetic language. English spellings vary, but here are your translations, honey.

Meiskeit — Ugly little geek who dares to screw with Lily Parrish. Pishkeh — Little pisser who dares to screw with Lily Parrish. Shmear — The best way to jazz up a bagel before serving a hungry Lily Parrish. Shiksa — A non-Jewish woman. Also see “Shiksa Goddess,” a blond hottie who works at Lily Parrish.

Caitlin is flummoxed (another great word) over how the designer got away, especially since she’s been talking to his marketing people for months. You know how those people from Iceland are. The cold makes them fickle.

Lily tells Caitlin it’s all her fault, as if she was supposed to anticipate an “Icelandic hostile makeover.” Lily commands that Caitlin fix the problem, regardless of what happened. The blush stops here.

Better than an intern – When Mia finally shows up at work, she meets the newest member of her staff: a stray black lab mix named Wiley. The editor of Mia’s rag Havoc found him trying to play tug-of-war with a bus on Seventh Avenue and brought him to work.

Then, as if she doesn’t know Mia at all, the editor suggests that Mia adopt him. Yeah. If there’s one thing Mia’s personality screams, it’s “dog lover.”

Editor: Do you want him? Mia: Me? Aren’t you keeping him? Editor: Please. I would love to, but six dogs is just weird. You should take him. Mia: No, I couldn’t. Editor: Why can’t you?

How much time do you have?

Mia: Because my personal life is like La Guardia in a snow storm. Arrivals and departures are all screwed up.

In other words, like Newark International, every day.

Mia throws caution to the wind and agrees to take stinky-breath Wiley on a foster care basis, because even she can’t resist this face.

Multi-tasking all that doing nothing – Well on her way to going stir-crazy, Zoe is home catching up on her photo albums while learning Italian via language CDs. Type A personalities don’t do well with too much time on their hands. Shockingly, Zoe would rather learn crafting than reposition herself as a high-priced consultant or leverage her big clients into a new, better gig somewhere else.

Adam the Manny comes home with the groceries and hears Zoe speaking Italian. Renaissance man that he is, Adam speaks Italian back at her. Adam’s the hard-working farm boy who had one chance to impress that Italian supermodel.

Zoe feels a twinge of uselessness and shows Adam the dinner menu she’s found on the world wide interweb. Instead of the healthy stir fry Adam had planned, Zoe thinks a better meal would be sausage lasagna. Never mind they don’t have any sausage, lasagna noodles or, possibly, tomato sauce. Frankly, sausage lasagna sounds awesome right about now.

Adam smiles agreeably and says stir fry can wait until tomorrow – until he learns that Zoe’s planned vegetable-free, calorie-crazy dinners for the next few days. Tomorrow will be cheeseburgers and fries, the day after that can be fettuccine alfredo, and on the last day it’ll be doughnuts and Tater Tots.

Adam compliments Zoe for being “on it.” And by “on it” he means the crazy train.

Since all his food shopping was for naught, Adam offers to buy the supplies for daughter Sasha’s “green” project. They plan on seeing if plants will grow in a liquid other than water. Don’t bother. It’s been my experience that jade plants don’t do well with beer, and orchids won’t flower when all you give them is water from a steam iron once a month. Also, cigarette ashes are not really fertilizer.

Just as Zoe is about to usurp that job from Adam as well, her cell phone rings – the first call of the day. It’s former co-worker and full-time Bozo Clayton, needing help with a client. She hangs up on him. Now that’s more satisfying than any home-cooked dinner can ever be.

Those temperamental creative types – Juliet is sparring once again with her French hotelier nemesis, PepĂ© Le Pew, aka Gerard. Gerard doesn’t like mundane, pedestrian artifices like words and numbers. He’s decided the architect that Juliet hired is not purple enough, or shiny enough, or whatever kooky criteria he uses to determine competence. Juliet tells him he can’t just fire people on hunches and whims. That’s her job.

It’s going to cost Juliet a fortune to buy out the architect, but Gerard is adamant they find someone younger, inspired and irreverent. Gee, if only Juliet knew an architect.

Gerard leaves as billionaire Len walks in. Juliet’s life is full of challenging, confident men ever since she dumped that manipulative sneak, Davis.

The first thing Len does is criticize Juliet’s deal with Gerard because his hotels are dependent on “the whims of second-rate celebrities and Eurotrash hangers-on.” What’s your point?

The second thing he does is flirt, even though she accuses him of buying their stock just to sell off the company, one pillow-top mattress at a time.

Juliet: Our board understands that we know our brand better than anybody and they trust me to do my job. I’m pretty sure with all your money, you wouldn’t want to be stuck battling with me on a daily basis. Len: I don’t know. Battling with you on a daily basis might be fun.

Juliet goes silent. Len assures her he’s no wolf in hand-tailored lamb’s wool clothing. “Billionaire” is not a character profile; it’s just a word that goes next to his name. Oh, puh-leese. Which P.R. firm came up with that sound bite? “Cynic” is not a character profile; it’s just a word that goes next to my name.

Len gets up to leave. “You’ve made it clear that you don’t want this company in play. What about you? Are you in play?” Len asks simply.

Juliet agrees to go to dinner with Len. Just a regular dude in a two thousand dollar suit, with “billionaire” next to his name.

Dog days and three-dog nights – Mia is home, trying to engage Wiley with a little game of fetch. Wiley lies there like a rug and lets the ball hit him in the face, rather than chase it. Wiley needs fewer Doggie Downers and more Puppy Uppers.

The doorbell rings and Wiley still doesn’t budge. Now I know something’s wrong. Wiley seems depressed, to be honest.

It’s Jason, making his booty call. OK, not the most impressive visitor, so I understand Wiley’s underwhelmed, bored expression. Jason takes one look at Wiley and wonders two things: Why is that dog in a coma, and what’s that smell? Jason is not a dog person, I guess.

Mia shows Jason something to make him sit up and beg.

Five second’s later, there a loud snoring sound, and it’s not Wiley. It’s me. Kidding. Mostly. What’s Caitlin doing right now? Having a drink at a women’s bar? At Barnes & Noble, looking at erotic lesbian fiction? Home, creating a user profile on AfterEllen.com?

The snoring is ruining my daydreaming. Hard-working, scalpel-wielding, brain-poking Jason has fallen fast asleep on Mia’s belly button.

This relationship has all the heat of a video Yule log.

Lunch ideas – At their daily lunch/gab fest, Mia complains she wants things to be easy, for her and Jason to know each other’s habits and weirdnesses, and for her to be able to make fun of him. Or as Zoe rightly calls it, “married life.”

Mia: I just want to come first. Zoe: Don’t we all?

Eek. Just what, exactly, has Zoe been doing all day?

Caitlin rushes in, late. She tells the mafia about Lily Parrish getting shut out of Fashion Week. She has 48 hours to pull a miracle out of her ass. Mia offers to call the dean of the Fashion Institute, a well-known design school in Manhattan. Maybe someone young, hungry and about to break out can be made an offer they can’t refuse.

A kid with scissors and a dream versus Anna Sui and Marc Jacobs? Oh, honey. No. This is a Hail Mary play not even Caitlin’s sib, Father Brother, can make work.

Meanwhile, no one asks Caitlin how she’s doing since getting dumped by Alicia. No need to rehash that old news for our sake, I guess. Juliet changes the subject and tells the girls what a pain in the derriere Gerard is. Where is she ever going to find an architect? Zoe hits Juliet’s forehead with a verbal smack and says, “What about Eric?”

Juliet asks if Eric has any commercial experience? Other than the Diet Coke spot he did in the U.K.?

Zoe sells her husband as she waves a grape on a fork at Juliet.

Zoe: At least give him a chance to pitch. He’s perfect for this.

Juliet sits silently staring at her sparkling water.

Mia: OK. I’ll say it. You’re nervous about mixing friends and business. Juliet: I am not! [long pause] I am a little. Caitlin: We always mix friends and business. We do! [motioning to Mia] We just did. Isn’t that the point?

Let’s review. Mia had a taste of Zoe’s manny. Caitlin gave Juliet a makeover on Lily Parrish’s dime. Juliet used Zoe’s banking resources to dig into Davis’ business transactions. Caitlin slept with her ad rep. Yup. One hand washes the other. Which is a good thing, considering where some of those hands have been.

After that’s settled, they dish about Juliet’s new suitor, Len Dinerstein. Caitlin wants to know what it’s like to be courted by a billionaire? It’s just like dating a woman for the first time. You don’t know how you’ll fit into your date’s world, with its own rules, cliques and vacation spots. The wardrobe is different, the slang is foreign, and new friends spend a lot of time gossiping about who’s in bed with whom, figuratively or literally.

If the girls really want to know, maybe Juliet should call over the Lipstick Jungle and ask the clothing designer who looks like Bjork. She’s going through the same thing. What a coinky-dink. Apparently New York City is just crawling with single billionaires.

Mia recommends that Juliet learn how to keep a kosher kitchen for her – hee, hee – future husband. If she needs Yiddish lessons, sadly, Caitlin can’t help her.

Sad dog – At the office, Mia tries to bribe Wiley with new toys but he lies there motionless, wondering how he ended up on this show. Mia tells the editor (what is her name?!) she thinks her new dog is broken. “I’ve read the book and he’s just not that into me,” Mia says.

Pathetic pig – Zoe is out kicking the ol’ soccer ball around with her son. I don’t think Zoe’s much of an athlete, because she’s dressed like a secret agent.

Control Freak Zoe tries pressuring her son to do dribble drills, but all he wants to do is kick around with his mom. Out of nowhere, Clayton comes traipsing across the grass in his Gucci loafers.

Zoe: The only reason you’d leave the office to track me down is if you needed something from me. Clayton: I don’t need anything. But now that we’ve landed Tate, don’t you want to put his money to work? Zoe: Tate wants to know where I am, and you don’t have an answer. Clayton: Actually, I told him you were having your eyes done. Zoe: You what?

What part of “I quit” did he not understand? “Jackass” doesn’t begin to describe Clayton.

Zoe sends Clayton a very nicely placed ball to the back of the head as a final parting shot.

Brandi Chastain would be so proud. And because you might be as bored with this show as I am, here’s Brandi.

OK, just one more.

A big break for a little boy – At Caitlin’s office, she’s putting her job and professional future in the hands of an infant with a portfolio named Dennis.

She looks at his designs and declares them to be “sophisticated, mature.” Which is saying a lot because Tim Gunn has corns older than this kid.

Dennis says giddily that he’s been wearing Lily Parrish since he was 15, which somehow qualifies him to launch a major show at an event where Versace and Kenneth Cole are vying for the spotlight.

Dennis: I can do this. Caitlin: Under pressure? Can you pull enough of these pieces together by Friday so we can have some semblance of a show? Dennis: Semblance? Was Tom Ford’s first for Gucci a “semblance of a show”? Caitlin: Oh, aim high. I like that. Go. Start. Sew.

Young Dennis skips off on his gossamer loafers to get started.

But first, he’s going to call his mother, his boyfriend and every person he’s ever met. This is better than the day he realized boys can wear eyeliner, even if they’re not in a rock band.

How to do things right – At home, Zoe is “helping” her daughter with her school project. And by helping, I mean she’s pushing the kid aside and doing it herself. As she does so, she’s also telling Eric how to pitch himself to Gerard, as if he’s also 9 and has no clue how to make the most of his presentation, either.

While that fascinating family drama is going down, Juliet is having dinner with Len Billionaire in the restaurant of her hotel. After dinner, he orders a Sauternes, a yummy French dessert wine, which Juliet finds interesting only because her hotel doesn’t carry any.

Len tells her he had some sent over from his own collection. He then mentions if he were to ever be so inclined to run a hotel, not only would they serve Sauternes, room service in their London property wouldn’t take 43 minutes. Good God. What kind of dump is she running? No Sauternes? Slow-poke room service? Do they provide toilet paper in these hovels?

As their “date” progresses, he advances, she retreats. She challenges, he deflects. It’s great fun if you’re mature and straight. I am neither. Let’s move on.

Second chance at love – Mia is moments away from giving Wiley to a pet adoption agency when he suddenly takes an interest in her. Well, in her stinky, expensive shoe.

Mia isn’t mad at all that Wiley is gnawing on 900 dollars’ worth of Ferragamo. She’s just happy he’s happy.

And then, in walks Wallace Shawn, this year’s hardest working man in guest spot television. Instead of walking around with a mouth full of egg-white omelet, or being followed by minions who stand ready to cut a check to anyone, anytime, Mr. Shawn is the lowly worker from Pets Be Friends animal shelter who’s come to take Wiley away.

Mia tells him she wants to adopt the dog and insists he interview her right then and there.

Mia: I’ve always wanted to own a dog, but I never thought I had the time. Wallace: We don’t say owner. We say “guardian” or “life companion.” “Owner” implies dogs are property, instead of living beings in their own right. Mia: OK, well then, I’ve always wanted to be a life companion to a dog. Wallace: So, could you please list all your previous pets, starting with childhood. Mia: Are you kidding? Chinese families aren’t even allowed to wear shoes in the house.

That is the truth. Growing up, we were also not allowed in the living room or dining room unless there was an adult party going on. The study was off-limits always. We were not allowed to use the dishwasher, even though it was just sitting there, empty, new and waiting to be turned on. Also, we had to drink a glass and a half of milk at dinner. These are not Chinese things, though. My mother was just crazy.

Mia mentions her last quarter’s revenue was $110 million, as if that’s indicative of good doggie guardianship. Wallace takes one look at Mia’s plastic office plants, notes her single lifestyle and long hours and decides she’s not fit to be anyone’s life companion.

Mia: Three days ago, this dog was eating garbage off the street. Isn’t being with me an automatic step up? Wallace: Not from what I’ve seen.

Mia being judged by an animal shelter worker is worse than being judged by her mother, another crazy Chinese lady. Mia vows to fight on as Wallace walks out with Wiley.

The cost of doing business – Meanwhile, Caitlin is trying to pull off the save of the century. Her assistant tells her the only space available in Midtown for her fashion show is going to cost an astronomical $75,000.

She decides to go for broke, literally, because it’s going to have to come out of next quarter’s budget. A good call, considering she might not be there by next quarter.

Elsewhere in some art museum, Juliet is looking at paintings with Len Billionaire. There isn’t another soul in the place, except for one bored guard, which makes me think Len arranged a private viewing for his date. He asks her what she thinks of the large contemporary canvasses, and she shrugs. Art. Eh.

I used to love Joan Miro when I was a kid because I thought it was cool a lady had painted such neat stuff. Then, when I was about 9, I found out Joan Miro was a man. The first of many disillusionments.

My second art disappointment came a year later when my father offered to take my sister and me to a museum. “Do you want to see the Freak Collection?” he asked. I answered with a lot of jumping up and down and chanting “yes!” over and over. The whole car ride there, I imagined the two-headed people and cyclops babies that awaited me.

Once we got there, I found no 800-pound man, nor a lady with a snake growing out of her head. Instead, we walked through room after room filled with large, old oil paintings and porcelain vases. I turned to my dad and asked: “Where are the freaks? You said we were going to the Freak Museum.”

He looked down at me and said, “The Frick. Not ‘freak.'”

And that sums up how I feel about this show. It’s not what I wanted it to be. Where are the lesbians? Why are we still here?

Len tells Juliet he likes the direction things are going. So much so, he wants her to sign a confidentiality agreement. Romance, thy name is Lenny.

Juliet: Yes, Len, I guess I could wrap my head around signing a confidentiality agreement, as long as you’d sign one, too. But we’re really getting ahead of ourselves, aren’t we? Len: I don’t like to waste time. I’d rather be direct. Juliet: So would I. My relationship with my ex-husband – we were less than honest with each other. Len: Been there. Hope it didn’t put you off monogamy.

Juliet is so hot in her red dress, it prompts Len to buy even more shares of her company. Juliet decides to tell the Man Who Has Everything he can’t have her. Oh sure, you can buy her an Aston Martin and she’s over the moon. But own a piece of her company and she gets all wiggy.

Real love – Mia and Jason are walking off dinner when he makes it clear he’s sick of hearing about Wiley. Mia can’t help it because she’s smitten with his doggie bad breath and the way he destroys her best shoes, but otherwise completely ignores her.

This relationship says it all about Mia.

Robot surgeon Jason doesn’t get any of it. “The dog just sat there. He didn’t do anything!” he says exasperatedly. He can’t understand falling for a dog she met three days ago. Jason can’t understand falling for anything, not really.

Mia: I think that we should be in each others’ systems, right from the start. Ya know? Like, we want to be with each other all the time. Jason: So, what are you saying? Mia: I’m saying that yes, I agree with you. It’s a little weird that I’m so obsessed with this dog. Jason: OK, good … Mia: But, it feels so great to be crazy about someone you just met. And frankly, I don’t think that we feel that way about each other. Jason: I don’t know if I’ve ever felt that way about anyone. Mia: Well, you will. I think this is goodnight, Jason.

Mia walks away as best she can in her unbelievably tight skirt while Jason stands there on the sidewalk, deleting his temporary Mia files and defragging his brain.

Making things happen – The next morning, Eric is pitching his architectural designs to Gerard as Juliet listens nervously. Eric says all the right things about cast iron buildings and how to renovate them because within two minutes, Gerard has decided Eric is the one for him.

Just as Eric gets the great news, Juliet gets a crate delivery from Len: an original contemporary painting. She promptly refuses to sign for it and leaves Len a snippy, yet sassy message on his voicemail, thus insuring he will never stop trying to win her over.

At the overpriced Midtown space, Caitlin’s enfant terrible is two hours late, and she’s having kittens. Just as she’s about to throw her assistant into a cab to go find his ass, Dennis comes rushing in, rolling a half-empty rack of clothes behind him.

Caitlin is frantic, but not as much as the kid, who’s having a meltdown right before her very eyes. I don’t know anything about fashion, so I have to admit I don’t get Caitlin’s outfit at all. Is she supposed to be a kite?

Nothing on the rack is finished. Nothing on the rack looks very good, either, if you ask me. Caitlin asks where are the people she hired to help him. Dennis says he fired all of them because they were “butchering” his designs. What a diva.

Diva Dennis tells Caitlin some things need finishing, embroidery and little touches like sleeves.

Caitlin: Dennis, the show is in two hours. Dennis: I’m sorry, but I can’t do art on a timetable. Caitlin: Yes, you can. That is what I paid you for. OK. Is there anything actually finished on here that a human being could wear? Dennis: We did a pair of pants and some city shorts. Caitlin: I gave you the opportunity of a lifetime, and you’re showing me a pair of fricking shorts?

And fugly shorts, at that. Dennis decides he’s too stressed and walks off the job. Is it a hate crime if a lesbian murders a gay boy, but he deserves it?

Come, sit, stay – Mia goes to see Wiley in a dog park. He lies there motionless and alone, chillin’ and watching the other dogs with a look of distain. I like that dog.

Wallace Shawn tells Mia he still doesn’t think she’s ready to have a dog. Until she gives him The Speech.

Mia: I don’t think having a dog is … sorry … an animal companion is about being ready, or who you live with, or how much you work, or how many pets you have … I think it’s about feeling something. I mean, how do I explain this bond that I have with this dog that I met three days ago who just lies there like a lump and has really smelly breath? But I do. I just think that feeling is so rare – with a man, with a friend, with a dog, with a job – that when you find it, you just can’t let it go.

Aw. It’s just like the end of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Mia is Charlie and Wallace Shawn is Willy Wonka. And Wiley is the chocolate factory.

Needless to say, Mia wins Wiley back, but he won’t come to her until she takes out his favorite battered Ferragamo.

Yay.

While Mia stumbles upon unexpected love, Zoe just stumbles. The “green” project she took over from her daughter is now a weighty tray of dirt with some kind of irrigation system. It’s so big, she and Eric have to carry it down a flight of stairs together. Good thinking with the building it upstairs, by the way.

Then, of course, Zoe trips and the whole thing lands on top of her at the bottom of the landing. “I can fix this,” she shouts. Her dad is a television repairman and has this ultimate set of tools.

Zoe then learns a valuable lesson when her daughter shows her the smaller, authentic project she did all by herself while Zoe was “helping” by taking over. Eric mentions she might want to get a job.

Caitlin saves the day – With no designer, no couture and no way to leave the country, Caitlin busts a bold move: The models will wear nothing. Nothing but Lily Parrish Cosmetics, that is.

Mia, Zoe and Juliet are all on hand for Caitlin’s big show. The lights dim and the models start prancing out. Everyone oohs and aahs as the music pounds. Sitting across the runway, Lily gives Caitlin her signature smirk of approval and Caitlin smiles and sighs with triumph.

Caitlin will end up looking like Lily in 30 years if she’s not careful.

At long last, love – The next morning, Mia and Wiley are out for their first run together. She wants to run five miles and then walk to a great shawarma place on Greenwich. By the look on his face, Wiley wants to do no miles and then be carried to a great pillow at home. They compromise and begin walking together, just a girl and her dog.

And they lived happily ever after.

Next week on Cashmere Mafia: Well, there is no next week. This midseason replacement series had seven episodes in the can when the writers’ strike hit. We may never know if Zoe gets a new job, if Mia finds a man that makes her as gah-gah as Wiley does, if Juliet becomes the fourth Mrs. Len Billionaire, or if Caitlin finds a woman (or a man) who will love her and make her life either romantic or comedic. Or both. Until next time, kids.

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