Monday, March 10


I'll give any TV show at least one viewing... so in that spirit, I watched Bravo's The Real Housewives of New York. Let me first back up and say I like New York City. It is a great place to visit. I could never live there: the crime, the crazy weather, the smell and the over-priced nature of the city all turn me off. But I was willing to give these housewives a chance... big mistake.

Let's be clear: no true socialite would ever participate in a show like this. The truly rich and powerful people driving New York society life would rather be poor and powerless than participate in a display of vulgarity like this; reality programming holds no allure to the truly glamorous. (Just look at what happened to celebrated NYC author, Truman Capote when he wrote about his experiences with the NYC elite: he was destroyed for what was considered a betrayal of all this crowd holds dear.)

That being said, this show blew chunks. Serious chunks. These women seemed more like wanna-bes than actual socialites. They bragged about their money, status (or perception there of) and worshiped at the altar of New York... "New York is the center of the universe," one woman brayed, sounding more like Jersey trash or Long Island loser, than society dame.

OK, sure. New York city has impact and influence over many areas of society. Fashion, publishing and finance all have serious players located in NYC. But Paris and London are bigger (and older) fashion capitols, publishing is a dead (or dying) field and finance is a field in serious trouble (and suffering from an inflated sense of self worth.) But that doesn't make the people of NYC more interesting, or more important than anyone else, which is the less-than-subtle message the first show hits us over the head with. "Everyone wants to be like us," another woman says, seemingly speaking through her nostrils.

Uh... thanks, but no thanks.

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