To Spanish or Not to Spanish

Husband is tucked away upstairs for the night so Fio has parked herself on the couch to watch La Doble Vida de Estela Carrillo--but there's some dumb awards show on instead. GRRRR!
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Fiorella can translate written Spanish better now, but she hasn't made much progress with the spoken language. It's a matter of not having anyone to practice with.
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Strangely enough, trying to learn Spanish has triggered Fio's long-forgotten Russian again. She keeps saying things like myedlenuh, puhzhaulsta (slower, please) or deliberately combining the languages, like gdyeh estan mis pildoras (where are my pills?), which makes her laugh. But then as Husband has always said, Fio is easily amused.
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Fio is looking at the awards show screen now. Good grief. The "dress" that Mexican cantante is almost wearing looks like a single layer of some ultra-shear semi-fabric. Fio knows that's show biz, but she'd like to see more taste and less skin, more elegance and less "I've gone about as far as I can go." Has it ever dawned on anyone that the end of extreme has been breached and the only outfit that would be different enough now to draw everyone's attention is a something simple and in good taste?
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Fiorella has learned a lot about the Mexican-American music industry from La Doble Vida. And about being undocumented. And about drug lords and crooked politicians. Yep, it's cup runneth over.