There are many ways to invite people on a vacation. You can send a text. You can make a phone call. You can even, if you’re feeling particularly fancy, send an actual invitation.
Or you can hire a MIME.
Because apparently, in Potomac, a perfectly ordinary invitation is for people who haven’t yet discovered the healing power of theatrical nonsense.
Welcome to “Mime Your Own Business,” an episode in which Monique decides that the best way to get a group of women who can barely tolerate one another to France is to introduce an additional layer of performance art into the proceedings. Meanwhile, Candiace and Chris are discussing a prenup, Ashley is trying to reconnect with Michael, and Karen and Gizelle are attempting something that should probably be classified as an extreme sport: having lunch together without starting another war.
It’s Potomac. Naturally, things get weird.
We begin with Candiace and Chris, who are moving forward with their wedding plans and confronting one of the less glamorous aspects of combining two lives: the prenup. Nothing says everlasting love quite like discussing the legal distribution of assets before the wedding invitations have even had a chance to collect dust. But Chris is approaching the matter practically, and Candiace has to consider what financial protection means for both of them as they prepare to build a life together.
The interesting thing about Candiace is that she is trying very hard to establish herself as an independent adult, while simultaneously having a mother who seems to regard independence as a temporary condition that can be revoked at any time. Dorothy has a rather impressive presence in Candiace’s life, and the wedding is hardly going to be an exception. Candiace is navigating the business of marriage while also navigating the business of being somebody’s daughter, which, in her case, appears to require considerably more paperwork.
Chris is trying to be sensible. Candiace is trying to figure out how to move forward without turning every decision into a referendum on her relationship with her mother. And somewhere in the background, Dorothy’s opinions are probably assembling themselves into a presentation.
Marriage is supposed to be about two people becoming one. In this case, the question is whether the two people can get through the planning without inviting a third person to manage the proceedings.
Over at Ashley and Michael’s, Ashley is making an effort to bring some romance back into the relationship. She wants to reconnect with her husband and restore some of the closeness that has been missing. It’s a reasonable goal, although attempting to manufacture romance in a marriage that has accumulated this much tension is a little like putting a decorative bow on a plumbing emergency.
Ashley is still young, still hopeful, and still trying to figure out how to make this marriage work. Michael, meanwhile, has a remarkable ability to make even the simplest conversation feel as though somebody should be taking notes for the eventual deposition.
The two have been through enough that a pleasant evening together isn’t going to magically erase the underlying problems. Ashley wants affection and reassurance, and Michael has his own ideas about how their relationship should operate. The challenge is that wanting a marriage to work and actually being happy inside one are two very different things.
Ashley is making an effort. Michael is participating in the marriage. Whether those two things amount to the same level of emotional investment remains an open question.
And then we arrive at the business of Karen and Gizelle, which is always a promising location for an incident.
These two have been circling one another for quite some time, and their relationship has reached the point where a simple lunch requires the emotional preparation normally associated with international diplomacy. Karen has her grievances. Gizelle has hers. Both women are convinced that the other has behaved improperly, and neither is particularly interested in surrendering the moral high ground.
The thing about Karen is that she can turn even a minor disagreement into a matter of considerable personal dignity. She does not merely dislike something. She is offended by it. She does not simply disagree. She has been wronged. And she is prepared to explain the distinction at length, preferably while looking impeccably dressed.
Gizelle, on the other hand, has a talent for delivering an observation with the facial expression of someone who has already decided how the conversation is going to end. She can be remarkably casual about stirring the pot, which is particularly impressive given that she is frequently one of the people complaining about the resulting mess.
So the two sit down for lunch, presumably hoping to make some progress. And for a moment, it looks as though they might actually manage to have a civil interaction.
Then a MIME appears.
Yes. A mime.
A person whose entire professional identity is based on not speaking has entered the vicinity of two women who have never encountered a disagreement they couldn’t discuss, revisit, analyze, and bring up again at a later date.
The timing is magnificent.
The mime is there as part of Monique’s elaborate invitation scheme for her upcoming trip to France. Because Monique has decided that sending a conventional invitation is simply not enough. She wants the experience. She wants the spectacle. She wants her guests to know that this is not just a vacation but an EVENT.
And what better way to announce a trip to France than with a silent performer?
Karen and Gizelle are understandably taken aback by the unusual delivery method. There is something wonderfully absurd about watching two Housewives try to process a person who is communicating entirely through gestures. These women are accustomed to controlling conversations, redirecting conversations, and making sure their own interpretation of events receives sufficient airtime. Now they’re being presented with an invitation by someone who literally cannot talk back.
Perhaps this is the secret to successful Potomac diplomacy. Remove the words entirely.
The invitation is for Monique’s trip to France, and the idea is to bring the women together for some fun and a change of scenery. Monique wants to create an opportunity for the group to relax and enjoy themselves, which is a lovely intention considering that this particular group can turn a brunch into a hostile takeover.
The mime has done his job. The invitation has been delivered. The women have been entertained. And for a brief moment, Karen and Gizelle have something to laugh about together that isn’t each other.
This is progress.
It may not be lasting progress, and it may not survive the next group gathering, but we’ll take it.
Monique’s approach to group harmony is particularly interesting because she seems genuinely convinced that a change of scenery can improve the women’s relationships. There is an optimism here that borders on heroic. She looks at a group with an extensive history of grudges, suspicious alliances, and conversations that require postgame analysis, and thinks: France!
Not mediation. Not a structured conversation. France.
To be fair, a beautiful vacation is an excellent idea. The women could enjoy the scenery, eat wonderful food, and perhaps spend a few days remembering that they are capable of discussing something other than one another’s behavior. But Monique is dealing with a cast that could find a reason to argue over the seating arrangement on a private jet.
The Green-Eyed Bandits, meanwhile, are not exactly rushing to embrace the plan. Gizelle and Robyn have their own opinions about Monique, and the prospect of spending extended time with everyone is not necessarily appealing. Their friendship with Monique has had its complications, and a trip to France is not going to erase those simply because the scenery is prettier.
This is the problem with organizing a group vacation as a peace initiative. Everybody has to agree to go, everybody has to agree on the arrangements, and everybody has to agree not to spend the entire trip discussing why they don’t like one another. That’s a lot of cooperation to expect from women who sometimes struggle to agree on the basic facts of a conversation.
Monique, however, is determined to move forward. She has a vision. She wants the women to have a good time. She wants to bring everyone together. And she has apparently decided that the best way to accomplish this is to introduce a mime into their lives.
Somewhere in France, a hotel concierge is about to have a very interesting week.
The beauty of this episode is that even the smallest social interaction becomes an occasion for theatrical excess. A lunch requires a diplomatic strategy. A vacation invitation requires a professional performer. A discussion about marriage requires legal documentation. And an attempt to reconnect with one’s husband requires considerably more patience than most people would reasonably expect to need.
This is why classic Potomac works so well. The women don’t need elaborate storylines or manufactured emergencies to entertain us. Give them a lunch, a vacation invitation, or an ordinary conversation, and they’ll find a way to turn it into an event.
And the mime? The mime is the real MVP. He walks into a situation involving Karen Huger and Gizelle Bryant, delivers an invitation without uttering a word, and manages to leave with his dignity intact. That’s a level of professional achievement that deserves a bonus.
The rest of us can only hope that the French vacation goes as smoothly as the invitation delivery.
But this is Potomac.
Pack your bags, secure your valuables, and learn a few basic French phrases for expressing disbelief.
Vive la drama.
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