Daphne: So what kind of hoity toity place did it end up being?
Frasier: It was a hell hole! They had the nerve to call it a day spa, when it's nothing more than a mere front for a bona fide luxury spa which taunts those kept at bay outside its golden door.
Martin: If you didn't go in, how do you know it's better?
Frasier: It had to be! The door was gold, ours was only silver. Gold is better than silver.
Niles: [muttering] Stupid silver.

Frasier: Anyway, it was an honest mistake. Cam and I are on all the same mailing lists. I'm sure mine is in his box. Besides, it's nothing personal, look, it's just an announcement for some place called La Porte d'Argent.
Martin: Probably just another froufrou restaurant or froufrou clothing store.
Frasier: No, no, no, this is not "froufrou," Dad, as evidenced by the manly scent of balsam.

Daphne: What's this about?
Martin: Oh, they're all worked up about some smelly invitation Frasier stole to some place they never heard of.
Daphne: Oh.
Frasier: Yes, but that's what's so intriguing, Dad, that there exists an exclusive place in Seattle that neither of us knows about.
Niles: It could be an art gallery, or a new haberdashery.
Martin: Or an Italian shoelace boutique.