Watching Alexandra and Vanessa eat it was a twofer pity party. In an "It" obsessed era, their presentation made the viewer painfully aware that these two are utterly "It"-less. The Kerry’s vibe is akin to Tracy Flick crossed with a Bennington girl who sulks in the corner at a party, plucking hairs out of her head one by one. No matter how many times Alexandra shows off her fried eggs through draped black chiffon at Cannes, that dour, long-faced New England reserve queers the air. The Heinz-Kerrys are just not a bunch that screams "get on board."
MEOW.
Europe wins. I guess they're good for somthing