Pearls! Pumps! Stockings! Suit! Business lady hair! Katie Fitch is getting dressed to meet the Queen — or a soon-to-be bride. Thanks to the Hubris Monster created by the wedding industry, it is impossible to tell the two apart anymore. She smiles sweetly at herself in the mirror, convinced that she is as grown-up on the inside as she looks on the outside.
(At the climax of this episode, Naomi calls the whole thing a “f–king pantomime,” which she doesn’t mean in the strict theatrical sense, but it’s really the theme of the episode — for Naomi and Emily, for Effy, for the Fitch family, and especially for Katie — and Katie’s wardrobe tells a whole story on its own. Watch as she goes from costume to costume: getting her grown-up dreams shattered in pearls and pumps, getting her social dreams crushed in fishnets and a black satin corset, until finally she’s just naked and searching for the way back home.)
Katie pops downstairs to tell her boyfriend she’ll meet up with him later, and they share such a significant look that any other mother in Britain would be like, “Later? What do you mean later? Are you pregnant?”
But the Fitches are too busy screeching about who forgot to put ink in the money-printing machine and crushing the actual life out of James to pick up and/or care anything about a possible grandchild. In the car Katie asks if things are OK with her mum and dad, and her mum’s like, “Of course, Katiekins!” And then she scowls out the window and plans how she’s going to bludgeon Rob to death with his HyperFitch.
You know who else are monsters, besides brides-to-be? Mothers of brides-to-be — especially ones with money. As evidence, I present to you this Beast and her daughter named Brandy:
She wants a gaggle of geese and a flock of doves and an OK! cover and the London Symphony Orchestra and an ice sculpture of Brandy’s vagina and a Hogwarts-trained owl to, like, fly the wedding rings down the aisle and lift the veil from Brady’s face and, just, whatever. I hate this woman. I hate her to infinity.
Jenna does too, but she can’t say it because of her family’s brokeassness, and also it’s her own damn fault for opening a wedding business. You start a catering service for vampires, you don’t complain when you feel fangs on your neck.