Anyway, Geordy's guiding credo seems to be that he likes yellow, and — comfortable in his masculinity! — he likes his ladies in high heels. We're not quite sure what Marie Claire is trying to tell us about the occupation that is being a "stylist" — that you have to have a certain youthful spirit? That to embrace the modern feminine ideal, it helps to have never hit puberty? But we wish Geordy the very best.

Oh yeah, and we meant to look into this earlier but we are lazy: drinks on me to the first person who scans in the page of Rachel Zoe's book where she allegedly misspells "intact" as "in tack." Xoxo!

Okay, so we learn she has "committed adultery." On whom? Whatever. It is unclear why she feels compelled to wear these flow-y brocade scrub type things, maybe because white is not the most flattering color, but anyway she "lets" some bitch take her taxi, refrains from gossip about Marc Jacobs' new boyfriend and buying something at a sample sale, and gives her Luna bar money to a homeless guy, although it's possible that was just about avoiding the carbs. And when it is all over, like many of those writers who do wacky things like stop drinking or eating only raw food for a week, she feels really good! "Humming with a sense of purpose—that's the payoff for all the lifestyle sacrifices." But maybe, like with the grape diet, is is just better to accept your own purposelessness?

And yet, zipping up my Calvin Klein dress in inky black and snapping on clanking, faux-deco Lia Sophia cuffs, I'm also relieved to be back in the pleasure dome. Here's to walking the path of righteousness in 6-inch heels.

Oh Cleo, if you're gonna put it that way, the whole "wearing stilettos to make yourself look thinner" works a lot better when you're not already six feet tall!