Respect Authority

Though my reality television loyalty has long lain with VH1, the glaring absence of a new Project Runway season means I’m craving some slightly-less-flashy-but-equally-trashy editing of the Bravo variety these days. So it’s with a little trepidation, and no small amount of shame, that I’ve decided to tune in for the second season of The Real Housewives of New York City.

All things considered, it’s incredibly easy to watch this show - not only because its mind-numblingly inane but also because Bravo plays it at least five times a day. While past incarnations of the Real Housewives variety — several seasons of Orange County, and one paltry attempt in Atlanta — have left me wanting, the NYC version deserves commendation for its ability to bring the trash closer to home. After all, we EXPECT Orange County to be full of gaudy women with sugar daddies and spoiled kids. But with New York’s myriad definitions of what’s “hip,” and my personal participation in a definition that doesn’t involve gobs of money (only skinny jeans), Real Housewives is a depressingly accurate reminder that the starving artist image has nothing on an Upper East Side condo.

Which isn’t to say that I admire, or even respect, any of the show’s so-called “cast members.” Rather, my emotions range from reluctant acceptance to downright loathing. Space cadet Ramona reminds her 11-year-old daughter at least twice an episode of the importance of earning money, and wannabe Alex spends 90% of her time talking about being in a socialite scene that I don’t think knows she exists. Jill’s high-society image is overshadowed by her unmistakable Long Island accent, and Countess Luann deLesseps, whose “royalty” stems from being the fourth wife of some ancient French guy, admonishes career-girl/chef/most-normal-person-on-the-show Bethenny in Season 1 for introducing her as “Luann” to a lowly limo driver. This show is just begging to be hated.

This, in essence, is what I truly love about Real Housewives: ALL these women have going for them is money. None is particularly relevant in the broader scheme of New York society (in fact, I’m pretty sure the show is their only claim to importance), none is particularly stunning, or intelligent or successful. And despite their nonstop attempts to epitomize the glitz and glamour of being wealthy in New York, not a one would find a place on typical barometer of Big Apple success Sex and the City. In fact, I’m pretty sure Samantha would make fun of them. 

So despite the vast discrepancy in wealth between these ladies and their erstwhile reality TV competition on VH1 (where people make asses of themselves for a mere $250K), really the only thing distinguishing Bethenny, Jill, Luann, Ramona and Alex from Buckwild, The Entertainer, Buddha, Heat and Tailor Made — is money. The former has it, the latter wants it, and I love them both.