It is a well-known fact that I’m completely obsessed with reality TV. I can barely watch regular TV and I think I could literally host a television show about anything on the Bravo network so if Andy Cohen ever gets the stomach flu, I could be his substitute at a moment’s notice. It’s sad and magnificent at the same time. My friends and I have full in-depth conversations about our favorite shows and then we feel like losers but we continue watching anyway. Hell, why not? It’s not like I don’t read books also! (Mostly cookbooks.) The good news is that the only American station I have in Paris is CNN so I get my forced daily dose of current events so don’t worry. By the way, I am most likely going to make the effort to vote for Donald Trump from all the way overseas… Just for fun. What do I care, I live in France. It will be like a whole new reality show. I watch Hulu as well but Hulu has American commercials and watching ads for Totino’s pizza rolls and Jack-in-the-Box greasy tacos and jalapeño poppers is just making me homesick and sad so I have to limit my time on Hulu.
I am getting a bit weary with The Housewives. They’re not rich enough anymore and I’m getting bored. And no one has slapped anyone in a very long time. But don’t get me wrong, I still watch every episode and my daughter and I are currently binge watching the Real Housewives of New York starting with Season One. I scared myself the other day because I realized that Kelly Bensimon and I have similar personalities. #ScaryIsland.
So, when Ladies of London began Season Two I was as thrilled as all get go. Finally, some class. Ha ha ha, I’m laughing as I write that but we have to admit that it is a step up from Ramona’s Pinot Grigio, Vicki’s fake flowers, Tamra’s white trash gym, Teresa’s prison sentence, Nene thinking that she’s rich but still lives in a subdivision, Countess Lou Anne’s turquoise statement necklaces, Brandy’s rental houses and Kyle’s faux St. Tropez white parties in her backyard.
Ladies of London makes me want to live in London so badly. It’s all cozy, tea time, turtleneck sweaters and fireplaces. It makes me want to go to the Chelsea Flower Show, inherit a country house and hire Amanda Brooks “to do the yard.” And whoever wrote the Ladies of London theme song is genius.
I am even going to go out on a limb and say that I like Ladies of London better than all the Housewives combined. Even if the Ladies of London argue, at least there’s a slightly intelligent conversation behind it except when Jules cried about Caroline telling her that she didn’t do a headstand as fast as Caroline. And I don’t give a shit if she has hypersensitive whatever. For fucks sake, get a grip and learn how to make hot chocolate by the way. Your children will thank you.
You know how everyone resonates with certain characters. Like on Sex and the City, which character describes you best? Or are you a combination? I am a combination of Carrie and Charlotte. On Ladies of London, I think I’m a combination of Caroline, Caroline and Annabelle.
Caroline Stanbury. My favorite character. I call them characters because I don’t actually think that they are real. I used to think she’s fat but she’s not, she’s actually super skinny, it’s just that her head, lips and ego are so big and that’s exactly what I like about her. In my delusional fictional life, Caroline S. and I are besties except that I hate the decor of her house but don’t tell her I said that. And by the way, if she is so rich, why isn’t her sweet husband financially bailing out her company, Gift Library, that is about to tank? #JustAsking.
Caroline Fleming I love because she can decorate, cook, dress and doesn’t give two fucks about anything. She doesn’t have to because she is Danish royalty. I do like how she gives everyone very genuine and real hugs. My favorite thing about her so far was when she just talked right over her therapist during her session. We both have a common love of coconut oil but I only use it for cooking. And I absolutely adore the way she doesn’t answer her doorbell until about the fourth ring after she’s finished everything she was doing. And honestly, I have never seen better blonde hair in my entire life. #Jealous
Marissa. Hate. Everything. About. Her. My entire body cringes when I hear her fake English accent. Except that I love that she probably writes handwritten thank you notes and probably has everything monogrammed. I do like her husband a lot. He seems sweet and supportive of her hotdog dreams. #IWouldBullyHerInAmerica
Juliet. Besides the fact that I cannot tell her apart from Jill Kargman, I can’t tell if I like her or not. No, I just made up my mind. I don’t like her. She’s a brown noser and I don’t think she truly expresses her real feelings because she’s afraid of Caroline S. I do, however, adore her little daughter Georgina. I wish they would just replace Juliet with her little girl as a main character. #AnnoyingAsFuck
Jules. This is the girl that I relate to the least. She literally has no balls even if she bakes balls. My friend LC described her best: “…About that, yoga girl cries (and JESUS what an ugly crier, stop already!) and everyone is appalled. Would you cry if your husband was going to inherit Mapperton? No. I mean, we'd cry about the bills, but fuck that we'd be cajoling, stealing or whatever we had to do to get that Green Chinoiserie Bedroom back up to speed. For fucks sake.” #TooSensitive
Annabelle. Love because first of all my grandmother’s name was Annabelle and secondly I like her because she’s cool. I imagine she and I would be friends and at a fancy party we would sneak away and smoke ciggies and talk about everyone we hate at the party. I would probably spend the night at her house sometimes because she probably has cozy English bedding. And I like her grandma. #PerfectBangs
Caroline Stanbury’s sister-in-law, Sophie. Might be my favorite person on earth. Quite clearly a functioning alcoholic, smoking cigs outside of restaurants in the freezing cold London weather, only wants to have fun and has drop dead hair with brilliant layers and phenomenal eyebrows. #WhatMoreDoYouWantOutOfAWoman
So those are my shallow thoughts of the day. Sorry and you’re welcome.
*Something you don’t know about me? It’s funny. In the summer of 2011, Yolanda and David Foster invited me to a hoity-toity party in the Hamptons. After I had just been introduced to former president Bill Clinton, I turned around and standing behind me was Kelly Bensimon waiting to be introduced to Mr. Clinton. All of a sudden I said, “Mr. Clinton, I would like you to meet my friend, Kelly.” Swear to God. I totally forgot that Kelly wasn’t my friend and that I only know her from the television! Isn’t that funny!