Custom Design

What are we supposed to call the four-week global parade of fabulousity that runs from New York Fashion Week to Paris Fashion Week? The only thing I’ve ever heard it called is “Fashion Month,” and that really doesn’t have much of a ring to it, despite the term’s obvious descriptive accuracy. It needs a new name. Get on that, commenters.

Anyway, whatever that twice-yearly span of time is, Rachel was in the thick of it yet gain for this episode of The Rachel Zoe Project. More gowns were scoped, more tiny disasters avoided and more tranny heels considered. Oh yeah, and Kate Hudson dropped by and was totally charming, and no one said anything about Taylor, and there was something with chicken legs that I’d rather we never spoke of again.

Remember how we were in New York last week? Well, scratch that, the gang went to Milan this week. Don’t get it twisted, though, it was still fashion week – it was just Milan Fashion Week. Our vagabond fashionistas were still in search of Oscar options for Cameron and Demi (at this point, we’re on a first-name basis with these people), and there are only, like, four dresses in all of Rachel Zoe industries. Fashion emergency! Literally.

Because so few dresses had already been pulled, a lot was riding on Milan to find additional Oscar dresses. Unfortunately, at least one of Rachel’s favorite looks had already been reserved for another stylist, which made the Italian trip that much more important. Rachel’s life is a series of little panic attacks, and Oscar season is doubly so, but you wouldn’t know it by the fact that Rachel zipped out of Italy to meet up with client Kate Hudson in London.

Kate had apparently called Rachel to London just to style her for and accompany her to the Burberry show, which seems like a great reason to charge a plane ticket to a celeb that has more money than god anyway. Rachel seems to have a bit of a girl crush on Kate, who seems totally worth of such affection – it was odd to see Kate Hudson Daughter Of Goldie Hawn drinking cappuccino and wearing a $35 yeti jacket and acting like a much more personable Hills girl.

Speaking of funny jackets, Rachel showed up to the Burberry show wearing a jacket that looked like the high-fashion equivalent of leafy camo. (If you’ve ever been in a Bass Pro Shop, you know what I’m talking about. If you’ve never been in a Bass Pro Shop, you’re a lucky person.) When Kate eventually emerged out of the black minivan (US arrivals are so much more chic) to go to the show in the rain, she was wearing a ultra mini sequined dress that I would generally not recommend for moments when you’ll need to exit a vehicle in front of photographers.

Burberry’s show was incredible, as anyone that followed last season’s shows surely remembered, and I would appreciate it if I could get a pair of those shirling boots FedExed over immediately. For research, of course. I’ll send them back when I’m done. Promise. Throw in the quilted leather motorcycle jacket while you’re at it. Research. It’s very important.

Back in the car after the show, Kate and Rachel were talking like two average girlfriends that had just had a few cocktails and seen a really good movie, and perhaps hidden a few of those cocktails in their handbags for the show. And then Kate sang some Stevie Nicks a cappella, and I’ve never really thought one way or another about Kate Hudson in the past, but I’d like her to be my new best friend. She’d fit right in. I get the impression that she’d fit in almost anywhere, she just has one of those personalities that we all wish we could have where nothing really bothers us and we actually do all the spontaneous things that we dream of. Naturally, being rich probably helps her be that person.

When they arrived back to Rachel’s hotel room, The Rodge was sacked out on the bed in a bathrobe, and the frequent incidence of bathrobes in this show makes me feel like I need to go buy a giant fluffy white one in order to accurately watch and write about these people. It would sort of be like Method acting, but instead, Method recapping. I can’t truly know them until I’ve sat for an hour in their bathrobes. Or something. Anyway, while they were all sitting around chit-chatting, Kate tried to convince Rachel to go with her to Rio, but Rachel does not wear bathing suits or go in the water or do anything fun, which unfortunately seems to be the result of negative body image issues. I bet Kate could convince her. She seems like she could convince anyone of anything.

After that bit of fun, Rachel jetted off to Milan to join Brad for the Italian shows. But wait, before the shows, we had to see the jewelry. The vintage jewelry, along with the vintage clothes and bags and hats. Vintage shopping seems so much more fun and triumphant than regular boutique shopping, particularly since someone like Rachel already knows what she’s going to see in a current-season boutique anyway. This show is full of all kinds of fashion porn, but the few minutes spent in the Milan vintage shop were easily my favorite. I wanted to crawl into that place and build a fort of wool ponchos under the racks and live there forever.

Once vintage shopping was done, Rachel went on to Alberta Ferretti and then to Missoni, where they saw a bag that was partially made out of the, uh, “leather” from chicken legs. I respect a bit of oddness, but the only reaction I had to chicken leg leather was something along the lines of, OMG WTF KILL IT WITH FIRE. Luckily, things quickly moved on to the gorgeous knits for which the company is known, and I would not be opposed to building a poncho tent in the Missoni showroom either, as long as they agreed to remove the chicken leg bags.

Unfortunately, The Rodge took the opportunity to connect the Missoni family business to the awkward topic of Rachel’s dubious future parenthood, and Rachel still seemed entirely uninterested in having children. Not all women want kids – I’m only 24, so my mind could change, but I’m not particularly smitten with the idea and I never have been. Rachel doesn’t seem like a person who would enjoy being a mom, and there’s no reason for her to feel bad about that. If kids were so important to The Rodge, why did he just now decide this, when his possibly-too-thin-to-be-fertile, 39-year old wife is having all kinds of career success?

But next it was on to meet up with Donatella Versace, and god knows you can’t talk about wholesome things like babies and families when in the presence of Donatella. I don’t generally like to comment on how people look, but, uh, Donatella sort of looks like a fabulous Italian muppet. And I don’t necessarily mean that in a bad way – she’s such an outsized, odd character of her own making that you have to think she’s well aware of it, not to mention that a huge portion of her face is man-made anyway. Donatella didn’t seem entirely jazzed about Rachel or the repeated requests that she come to LA to visit, but they did the fake-y industry cheek kissing thing and then the show was fantastic and I feel like the entire fashion world sort of sustains itself on the energy of that kind of pretension.

As if the fashion shows haven’t been fabulous enough, Rachel then had to do a quick-change into a party look and go swill free booze and grope amazing jewels and handbags and socialize with Julianne Moore at a Bvlgari party. The Rodge was bitching the entire time that he and Rachel never get any sexytime, but Rachel seemed entirely disinterested in the prospect in favor of fretting over her shoes. Since the boots she was considering were more or less walking sex, I can see why she already felt fulfilled on that front.

It wasn’t all fun and games back at Camp Zoe, however. Remember that Marchesa dress from last week? When Rachel called back to LA to get an update, Ashley told her that the designer seemed to be sort of hedging on whether or not Rachel could have the dress, and they would’t tell her where it was or if it was available. Since no amount of bling and booze and The Rodge can distract Rachel from wanting Cameron (or whoever, I’ve lost count) to have a Marchesa moment, she was brought straight back to earth with the disheartening news.

Rachel had also lost a couple more Oscar dresses that she had been counting on, and back in the hotel in their bathrobes, The Rodge decided to pick a fight over it. He doesn’t seem to want Rachel to vent about anything ever, which is not really helpful, as a woman, when all you want to do is bitch. He also doesn’t seem to understand that it’s not possible to end business relationships with major designers over one broken promise, which you would think he had picked up by now. Everyone’s screwing everyone else in this business; all that matters at any particular moment is whether you’re pitching or catching, if you know what I mean.

Original post by Amanda Mull

Now that we’re done with New Jersey, the sun seems to shine a little brighter, the air seems a bit crisper, humanity seems capable of goodness and positivity. Well, maybe not the Real Housewives of DC specifically, but, you know. Most of us.

Last night’s episode was probably a bit slow for some people, but I still have such a reality TV crush on this group and their non-Jerseyness that I loved it anyway. When the bar of expectation is set so low, there’s no place to go but up, and as long as I get at least one heinous story about the Salahis per episode, I’m a happy girl.

This time, we started with Bacon. Err, Lynda. We started with Lynda and she was frying bacon. I thought about licking the tv, but I didn’t, so everyone take a moment to admire my restraint. She lost me when she said that when you’re from the South, you have to serve the men first, and to that I say: hell to the no. I don’t know what part of Georgia she came from, but in the part I come from, it’s not the 1950s anymore.

Over at Stacie’s house, she was hanging out with some of her sorority sisters from Howard and the subject of Stacie’s biological parents came up. As it turns out, her bio mom is white and her dad is black, which makes things sort of awkward, since her biological mom’s current family has no idea that she had a child with a black man who she met in Nigeria in the Peace Corps.

And I just…I don’t even know what to say, and for better or for worse, I almost always have something to say. What a screwed up situation, and Stacie seems to be handling things so well and being so reasonable about all of it. If I were her, I would be straight up angry. Don’t even get me started on why, in this day and age, it would be any more scandalous for a grown women to acknowledge a mixed-race baby from her past than it would be for her to acknowledge any other baby from her past. I need to move on to other things before I have a rage blackout.

Over with Mary, things were decidedly less horrifying. She was helping her friend Ted open his new salon, and for reasons I don’t entirely understand, Michaele was there. Ted said that she was sponsoring the event, but as it turns out, that just means they donated some wine for the party. Clever. Mary got all prettied up when she got to the salon, and refreshingly, she again had zero problem appearing on the show with no hair and makeup. Her life seems like a lot of fun, doesn’t it?

The party itself seemed like fun too, and Lynda and Cat showed up and were both on fairly good behavior. Lynda and Michaele actually managed to have a pleasant, civil exchange with each other, but then the real fun started when Mary and Cat got together to complain about Michaele and her social climbing. Mary thinks that the Awful Twins use their wine to get into events and meet people through “sponsorships,” and not only do I think she’s right, but I think that’s actually kind of a brilliant idea. I wouldn’t have guessed that those two could come up with any sort of effective scheme for anything. Then again, they did manage to sneak into a White House dinner, so…

Anyway, back to Mary. She’s painting her dining room high-gloss black and took Cat and her friend Jason out to another friend’s contemporary furniture store to pick out some new stuff for the room. Cat thought the idea was stupid, but I think it sounds awesome – I wanted to paint my bedroom black for my entire youth and my mom wouldn’t let me, so you best believe I’m going to be doing it at some point in the future when I own my own place. And I will also put cool white modernist furniture in it! So Cat can just go back to that rented shabby chic crapfest that she lives in and shut her mouth. HARUMPH. Ahem. Team Mary.

Not that it matters, because it appeared as though the only reason that the furniture trip happened in the first place was so that they could all sit down and Jason could tell another story about how worthless and horrifying the Awful Twins are. They had invited Jason and Ted to go to the Congressional Black Caucus Dinner and guaranteed that they had tickets for the entire group, and when they got to the door, the invitation only allowed one person in.

WELL. The Salahis ran them in the side door anyway, and when they got inside, Ted and Jason didn’t have seats. Instead of leaving, Michaele and Tareq went around asking for seats and trying to steal other people’s spots. Eventually the Secret Service (yes, the President was in attendance) figured out what they were doing and gave them the boot, leaving Ted and Jason inside and pretending not to know who the Salahis were. But you can’t keep good grifters down! After they got kicked out by the Secret Freakin’ Service, they snuck right back in, this time to the VIP area! So I guess we know how they managed to sneak into the White House – they’ve had plenty of practice.

Before we knew it, it was time to head out to the country with Mary, Cat, Stacie and both Jasons for the grape stomping event at the Salahis’ winery. The place hasn’t had a stomp in a while because Tareq’s mom filed a lawsuit a couple of years back to try to have him removed from the business, and I guess that gives you a pretty good indication of what kind of person Tareq is – even his mother hates him. The injunction on the place had been lifted, though, but that still didn’t stop mom from calling a reporter to…I don’t know. I honestly have no idea why any of this would be newsworthy in a place like DC where so much actual stuff happens.

In the limo on the way to the vineyard, the subject of Michaele and her controlling husband came up, and Jason told the same story about being forced to sneak in the side door of the Congressional Black Caucus event. Mary took the opportunity to remind everyone that Michaele used to sell makeup at Nordstrom, which I wish she’d just drop, but I think it should be abundantly clear to everyone now just exactly what the Awful Twins are up to. Sadly, I think Michaele is just along for Mr. Tareq’s Wild Ride because she doesn’t know any better and either won’t or can’t stand up for herself. When Stacie tried to call back and inquire about the security issues (with Cat’s help), Tareq strategically, uh, “lost the call.”

While everyone else was in the middle of nowhere in Virginia, Lynda was having a slightly tedious dinner with Ebong, but he appears to put up with her nagging instructions with an ease that few men have. Good for him for taking it in stride, and good for her for finding a man who can deal with her. Good for both of them for skipping the grape stomping foofaraw.

When the limo finally arrived, ominous security guards with earpieces and dobermans (I think they’re the same guys that Danielle from New Jersey hired for Monday night’s dinner) greeted the crew and Cat was just loving it, and by “loving it,” I mean “hating it with the kind of intensity that most people reserve for intercourse.” Cat is mostly loathsome, but if the group could just manage to point her unnecessary negativity at the Salahis at all times, I wouldn’t have any kind of problem with her. She called Tareq a control freak to his face and then made fun of his little whistle, at which point Mary’s chardonnay nearly shot out of her nose. If you’ve never shot alcohol out of your nose before, let me just tell you: it burns.

Cat then refused to stomp grapes (also, can we just talk about how many different kinds of animal pelts she had hanging off of her?) or blow the whistle during the grape stomping, and then she told Tareq that he didn’t have any manners because he was American. And, you know, I agree that Tareq is entirely without manners and needs an attitude adjustment, but Cat calling others’ manners into question is probably more irony than she’s intelligent or self-aware enough to understand. Eventually Michaele’s assistant (speaking of animal pelts) told her to stop being so bitchy, and it occurred to me that all this show really needs is Cat and the Salahis. Everyone else could have gone straight back home in the limo and I wouldn’t have even noticed.

As we were promised, some grapes eventually got stomped, but they weren’t grapes from the Salahis’ vineyard. They didn’t even bother to hide the supermarket crates from the cameras, and there were only a couple of pounds in the giant vat that everyone got into. I used to work in marketing at a large winery, and I’ve seen a good bit of actual grape-stomping take place, and what they had wasn’t even a reasonable facsimile of the real thing (plus it looked like it was the winter, and that’s not when you have grapes on the vine in that region anyway).

In fact, I worked at the place where this happened: (If you’ve never seen this video before, stick with it until the end)

Anyway, Cat ran out of that place as soon as she realized that Jason also had to leave, and she shouted “bollocks!” the entire way to the car. After she and Jason were gone, Michaele asked what had been discussed in the limo on the way up and, well, it was them! When the subject of the Congressional Black Caucus Dinner was raised, Michaele denied that anyone snuck in but didn’t really explain what the confusion was over, nor mention being kicked out by the Secret Service. It was sort of a non-explanation, and those usually happen when the truth has already been discussed.

Speaking of weak excuses, the talk then turned to whether or not it was appropriate for Lynda to tell Michaele to eat a cheeseburger and Mary tried to defend her friend by saying that Lynda always has everyone’s best interest at heart. I think we all know that Lynda doesn’t care about Michaele at all (she said as much earlier in the episode), but Michaele put Mary on the spot to be accountable for Lynda’s actions and she didn’t really have much of a choice but to have her back.

Michaele then put Mary on the spot again for Cat and Lynda making fun of her the previous week, and even though Stacie vouched for the fact that Mary wasn’t making fun of her that night or involved in the conversation at all, Michaele didn’t seem interested in hearing it. Neither did Tareq, who appears to have taken the opportunity to come from totally out of left field and say something nasty to Mary about her daughter that we won’t get to hear until next week, but for which I am sure he will deserve a punch in his puffy, self-satisfied face.

I like Mary quite a bit, so perhaps I’m a little biased, but the whole scene seemed incredibly manipulative. The Salahis got called out on being party-crashing grifters, so they immediately shifted the focus to someone else in order to pick at her over things she didn’t even do or say, and then brought up her daughter in a way that looks like it isn’t even remotely related to the subject they were discussing and seemed purely intended to upset Mary. Stay classy, Michaele and Tareq.

Original post by Amanda Mull

One of my favorite things about The Rachel Zoe Project is that it’s such a nice palate cleanser after the nastiness of Real Housewives of New Jersey on Monday nights. It’s light, it’s fun and it’s filled with famous people and beautiful clothes. If ever there was a reality TV no-brainer, this show is it.

Last night, we got more cameos from gigantic fashion names like Oscar de la Renta, Donna Karan, Brian Atwood and Francisco Costa. There were beautiful gowns and runway footway clips and sparkles by the gallon. I died. Literally.

In case you were wondering, virtually no time has passed since we last left our intrepid band of fashion girls and gays. Rachel and her husband were still at Fashion Week, this time trying to find Oscar dresses from her slew of clients who will be attending the awards show. Just like last year, Rodger and Rachel’s anniversary falls in the middle of Fashion Week and Oscar season, and Rodger is still pouting about it.

BUT! He would have to be pouty at the Oscar de la Renta show, because that’s where they were headed first and Oscar waits for no man. De la Renta himself made an extended cameo to talk with Rachel, and then we got to see some of the glorious looks that Rachel wanted for the red carpet. And, of course, they were phenomenal. It’s de la Renta, people, of course they were. No other American designer does straightforward glamour like he does, and straightforward glamour is what the Academy Awards require.

Next they were on to Michael Kors (Or as I used to refer to him, Princess Michael Kors. Pour a little out for the lost homies.), but not before a tragic traffic jam made the gang late for their front row seats. Of course Rachel can run in her sky-high stiletto platforms, though, just like any fashionista worth her weight in cashmere. I half expected her to sprint the last ten blocks from the car service, but the segment from the street to the doors was all we saw. Sadly, those doors were already closed- the show was in progress.

She didn’t get to sit front row like she usually does, but she did wedge her way as far into standing room as she possibly could, thereby raising the ire of at least one fellow standing-room watcher who didn’t recognize her (and how could you not recognize Rachel Zoe at Fashion Week?) and got bit mouthy. Rachel was apparently pretty meek to her face, but once she was leaving with Rodger and Brad, she let the frustration out with a little dig about how Michael would want her to shove others aside, at which point Brad went into full-on “bitchy queen” mode and said that at least Rachel didn’t buy his clothes on sale at Saks.

I may be in the minority, but I loved that totally snotty, holier-than-thou moment. I don’t want to believe that these people are nice and courteous all of the time – part of the magic of the fashion industry is that it’s a bit cutthroat and nasty. THAT’S WHAT MAKES IT FUN. Or, alternately, that’s what makes it a total nightmare if you’re a much, much nicer person than I am. Rachel and Brad clearly aren’t, which is why I like them so much. Brad apologized for the remark on Twitter during the show, admitting that he buys a ton of stuff on sale and loves to shop at Saks, but I needed no apology. I don’t watch reality tv to see people being polite and reasonable – I watch it in hopes that Rachel will one day take off a tranny shoe and beat someone with it.

Next, it was time for Rachel to meet with Brian Atwood to discuss his designs and a shoe on which she’s collaborating with him. First of all, Brian Atwood is totally hot. Like, dreamboat. Gimme. Second of all…well, there is no second of all. The only thing that I remember is that Brian Atwood is hot.

While this was going on, Rodger was shopping for a lingerie gift for Rachel with the aid of her sister. They went to Kiki de Montparnasse, which is probably one of the most luxurious, sexiest brands in the world, and bought a boring black negligee without much imagination to it. Rachel’s sister giggled like an idiot the entire time, particularly when the vibrator came out, and Rodger looked like he had stumbled into the seventh circle of hell (which is apparently populated with gross girly things that remind him of sex with girls, which is also gross). There was some highly regrettable talk of a French maid outfit, but let’s never speak of it again. By the end, I wanted to punch the entire scene in the face. Note to Rodger: getting giggly and awkward and skeeved out in a high-end lingerie store is not helping the whole “Straight Dudebro Rodger” thing you’re trying to make happen.

Naturally, Brad wasn’t just lounging about amid his collection of bow ties while shoe-designing and embarrassing lingerie-shopping were happening, he was doing his job. At a fashion show. Because his job is awesome. He went to see Derek Lam and look for white dresses for Cameron Diaz’s Oscar moment (white is totally a thing among the Zoe crew) and found a perfect candidate. He also wore a totally amazing pair of Buddy Holly glasses to the show that I simply MUST OWN, so if you know where they’re from, holla at ya girl.

But Fashion Week isn’t just for watching – oh no, this year Rachel would be a part of a QVC fashion show with her low-priced line for the channel. Speaking of totally amazing: the sequined zebra tunic that Rachel wore to the show? I died a little bit inside. How do you find vintage sequins on that level with no snags and nothing missing? The mind, it reels.

Oh, right, the show. It was kind of a weird mash-up between fashion show and QVC broadcast with Vanessa Williams hosting, and when Rodger and Brad called to order a vest from backstage, the operator didn’t believe that it was really them and hung up. I wonder if she watched the show last night and had a little bit of a panic attack. Either way, it seemed like Rachel’s line sold very well – some people are VERY COMMITTED to their TV shopping.

The next day, it was Rodger and Rachel’s anniversary and they got a surprise DVD in the mail from Rachel’s assistant of their honeymoon videos from 1998. It was kind of adorable, and also a reminder that these people were actual, normal folks before Rachel was Rachel Zoe ™. When it was time to exchange gifts, Rachel got herself (from Rodger) a pair of rose gold and diamond handcuffs (but not sexytime handcuffs – cool bracelet handcuffs) and gave him a ring, and Rodger presented her with the lingerie. She sort of liked the negligee but didn’t so much love the thong, and I can’t really blame her for the following reasons:

1. Getting lingerie is kind of annoying to a lot of women.
2. Buying fashion for a Fashion Person is a waste of time, since half the fun of being a Fashion Person is finding things and buying them. The other half of the fun is trying them on in your bedroom when no one is looking.

No one even bothers buying me clothes or clothing-related items anymore since my taste is so specific, and I can only imagine that the same should be true a hundred times over for someone like Rachel Zoe – she picks clothes for a living, don’t try to pick them for her. Rodger also had a mystery box with which he hoped to do better, and he managed to hit a total home run: a custom-designed Rachel Zoe Barbie Doll. Ok, so this also wasn’t the best way to make the Straight Dudebro Rodger thing happen, but at least it made Rachel happy.

She apparently has a Barbie obsession, and Rodger picked actual clothes and accessories from her closet to shrink down to doll-size for the Barbie. Rachel was floored, and I have to admit, that’s kind of a cool present (not to mention a thoughtful one). I’m not an overwhelming fan of Rodger’s increased presence in this season, but watching people open gifts is oddly exciting. You get to enjoy some of the surprise vicariously.

After the anniversary moment, Donna Karan’s fashion show was next with a bunch of celebrities (Demi Moore, Brooke Shields, Susan Sarandon) in attendance. Karan’s show is always beautiful, and the preponderance of black and grey made me absolutely happy. Rodger was still sort of pouting about the whole lack of an anniversary thing, and that got old really quickly – fashion is her job. It pays both their bills. You can’t reschedule Fashion Week. Can you tell I’m not a big anniversary person?

Speaking of unnecessary interpersonal drama, the show cut immediately to Brad talking a bit more smack about Taylor and whether or not she would be at any of the shows. Of course she will be, she works in fashion. She got fired from a job, not banished from the industry. Also, we got a bit more awkward talk about Rachel and whether or not she’s going to have babies when her sister sat down to have “the talk” with her, which I assume has already happened a dozen times.

Rachel still doesn’t seem all that jazzed about the idea of having children and she’s afraid that her career will suffer if she does. To that, I say more power to her. If she doesn’t want kids, she shouldn’t have them. If she wants her career to be first, she should own that. Just because she’s a woman doesn’t mean she has to have children in order to be right or whole, and it’d be nice if people stopped trying to pressure her into it. It’s not helpful or productive, and it just gives us anxiety. I just wish everyone would get off of our backs, JEEZ. Ahem.

Thankfully, we got back to the fashion quickly after that. It was time for the biggest show of New York Fashion Week, MARC JACOBS! Rodger was clearly not as enthusiastic about the show or about the amount of hairspray that Rachel was wearing, but they both managed to get into the car (with Brad for comic relief) and make it to Marc’s show. Naturally it was amazing, and Rodger finally got his precious alone time at dinner afterward. I’ve never seen a man so obsessed with anniversaries – aren’t they supposed to be the half of the couple who forgets all about it?

Fashion disaster wasn’t far behind, however. The next morning, Rachel was informed that that Oscar stage would be white and that women attending were being asked to choose another color for their gowns, which screws up the entire plan for Cameron Diaz (and for Brad’s big moment with that Derek Lam dress from earlier in the show). Fret not, however, because the Marchesa presentation was next and it’s always full of red carpet wear. And of course, look six from Marchesa was the standout dress of the week for Rachel.

If the dress looked familiar to you, it should: Sandra Bullock wore it to win her Oscar for The Blind Side. I guess we’ll see the drama of Rachel losing the dress next week…

Original post by Amanda Mull

And so, it was over.

The second season of Real Houswives of New Jersey…well, it put us out of our misery last night. I was going to say that it came to a screeching halt, but that would imply that something exciting happened in the four months during which we were forced to endure this pseudo-reality tragicomedy on a weekly basis, and that would be a wholly inaccurate portrayal of what was foisted upon us by Andy Cohen and his Bravolebrity henchmen.

Danielle and Caroline sat down to have a chit-chat where nothing got thrown and no one was injured and no tables were flipped and no prostitution whores were named, which is probably a fitting end to the season that wasn’t.

Things started just like they always do. Teresa was cooking, people were coming over, Caroline forgot to bring the wine. Cheek-kisses and hugs all around. For a moment, it was possible to believe that these people are normal and fun and reasonable. The food looked good! But then the subject of Danielle came up, and we were all reminded that this show is a black hole of inanity and awfulness.

Danielle was still pressing charges against Ashley, of course. As Caroline, Jacqueline, Teresa and their families discussed the situation, Caroline came up with the brilliant (in the strictly reality-television definition of the word) idea of having a sit-down with Danielle to bury the issue and get it out of everyone’s lives for good.

I’m not sure how Caroline thought all of this would go, but by my count, hers was the third proposed Danielle sit-down of the season. First Dina’s ghost whisperer or whatever told her to talk to Danielle, and then Dina left the show. Then Kim G. thought they should clear the air, and we haven’t seen Kim G. since that episode. My personal theory is that being too close to Danielle turns you to stone, Medusa-style (it has something to do with her eyebrows…), at which point her dinner companions have to be loaded onto handtrucks and wheeled out of New Jersey. Like I said, it’s just a personal theory.

Caroline texted Danielle to set up the meeting right then and there, and in a feat of a producer setup if there ever was one, cameras were conveniently available to tape Danielle receiving it while in the company of her two daughters. When it became clear that the text was requesting an in-person meeting, Christine and Jillian looked justifiably terrified and told their mother that it was a bad idea, thus proving for the 89,345th time this season that they are indeed smarter than the woman who bore them.

Unbowed by the logic and wisdom of her daughters, Danielle puffed up her chest and agreed to the meeting of the matriarchs, which is clearly a word that Danielle had just learned that day. Great. This isn’t going to end badly at all. Her daughters, for their part, seemed relatively unimpressed by the word “matriarch” or Danielle’s ability to use it in a complete sentence. I wonder if she can spell it.

Speaking of dysfunctional mother-daughter relationships, Jacqueline promised Caroline that she’d tell Ashley to stay away from Danielle if Caroline asked to have the charges dropped when she met with Danielle. Ashley, predictably, didn’t seem enthusiastic about cooperating or avoiding the subject of Danielle in the future. If we ever needed an indication that she is in fact a complete moron, this conversation did it. Can Ashley really not shut up about some old broad in exchange for the end of her legal troubles?

As always happens at this point in the episode, Danielle got together with Danny The Ex-Con (because he’s the only person who will still talk to her besides her own children) to get up on her high horse and try to make her nonexistent persecution into a feminist issue. Admittedly, I think Danielle is correct in saying that the Manzos just need to ignore her and move on, but assuming that any of this, on either side, is a reflection of how anyone would handle the situation in objective reality is naive at best. This isn’t objective reality, it’s a planned and produced show, and the narrative arc of the season needed a bombastic resolution. I would be genuinely surprised if any of this was Caroline’s idea, and there aren’t many things that could surprise me about this show anymore.

Anyway, back to things that aren’t surprising: Danielle called her energist (which my spellcheck doesn’t recognize as a real word, and I tend to believe it) before the meeting (on her iPhone with a gold plastic case, god help us all) to center her and make sure that she’s dignified and full of love, which can apparently be done via speakerphone now. There’s an app for that. What there’s not an app for, clearly, is armed guards – she brought the real thing.

While Caroline and Danielle were getting ready to sort things out in a private room at one restaurant, the rest of the gang was at some other restaurant, discussing Danielle. When Ashley complained that she didn’t want to hear about or talk about Danielle anymore, Jacqueline snapped at her to control her mouth. Apparently she forgot that she had already told Ashley that she was to never, ever speak of Danielle again or to participate in any conversation about her. Details, details.

Caroline’s daughter Lauren, one of the more well-adjusted children on any of the Housewives franchises, managed to talk Ashley off the ledge and bring that dinner back to normal. Well, as normal as a dinner with a bunch of Real Housewives ever gets, which is probably a subject that merits further contemplation. If you could have dinner with this group, would you? The food usually looks great, I’ll give them that.

Across town, at the dinner being held in a padded cell with no windows and steel doors, guards stalked the perimeter in full riot gear, clutching their AK-47s nervously and fretting about the carnage that would surely be ensuing inside. Things started calmly, with Caroline explaining why she felt she needed to talk to Danielle face-to-face and what she hoped could come out of the meeting. And then, Caroline mentioned Ashley and something snapped inside of Danielle’s brain. You could see it on her face.

Danielle, perhaps justifiably, wants to see Ashley punished for assaulting her. After that, there was some overdubbed dialogue and Danielle used the word “matriarch” again and nothing constructive happened. After a series of ad hominem claims from Danielle about the persecution that she’s endured, Caroline asked her several times for specific instances in which her family has attacked her in any way, and each time Danielle changed the subject or rolled her eyes or answered her with another question after an uncomfortable, clearly panicked silence. There had been a few telling moments in this episode so far, but that awkward exchange was easily the most interesting.

It was kind of startling to see such a clear-cut conversation between the two sides of this series-long battle. Mostly all we’ve seen has been Danielle complaining to her daughters or her prison buddies or her small, terrified dogs and the Manzos kvetching among themselves, but to see the two meet and actually trade sentences (as opposed to the normal profanity-laced heckling while a third party tries to restrain them) was…kind of epic. Epic in a way that this show hasn’t been in a long, long time. Unfortunately, it only lasted for about half a second.

When things devolved into personal insults about clown hair and indicted friends and whether or not Danielle is garbage (probably not an unfair designation, considering), Danielle got up and walked out so that she could call Joe a drunk and Jacqueline a psycho and Teresa’s daughters whores from the safety of the building’s exterior and in the company of giant men. She’d rather say nasty things straight to the camera than to the faces of the people she’s talking about, because ultimately, it’s only the camera whose opinion matters to Danielle.

Afterward, Danielle and Caroline both went back to their families and told them that it was over. On both sides, there seemed to be a sense of finality that lent credence to the rumors that this is Danielle’s last season. As I mentioned in the comments last week, I think that would be for the best – Danielle’s presence means that the show can’t change, and we seem to all agree that it’s gotten stale as it is. The only option seems to be to get rid of her, add a few new housewives to shake things up, and go confidently in a completely different direction. With Danielle thrown out of the Manzo family’s social realm (hopefully for good), it appears as though that’s exactly what will happen. Will you still watch the show if it comes back for another season?

Original post by Amanda Mull

Ok, ok, before we go any further: Omarosa from The Apprentice tried to famewhore her way into last week’s episode of Real Housewives of DC and we all totally missed it. I usually have excellent reality slimeball radar, but she was able to slip past. If you catch a rerun, you can see her in the scene where Tareq Salahi opens the champagne with a sword, standing behind him and trying her best to get into the shot. I don’t know why this amuses me so much, but it does.

Anyway, about this weeks episode. We had booze, gossip, parties, etc. All the usual Real Housewives goodies. Two of the cast members also managed to make a trip overseas without embarrassing the entire country, but don’t worry – there were plenty of other deliciously shameful moments to make up for any good behavior that might have occurred overseas.

Things started with Cat this week, and she was meeting with her editor (read: ghostwriter) to discuss her upcoming book and its very important cover shoot. The publisher wants a Sex and the City vibe for the cover and she thinks that’s ridiculous, despite the fact that her book seems to be about swanning around London and all of her inappropriate lovers, which is, uh, kind of similar to Sex and the City. She also discussed the book with Lynda, who brought up the fact that Cat’s new husband has a very political, sensitive job that might not mesh well with the kind of dishy, soapy book Cat has planned. She seemed undeterred.

Next we spent some time with Stacie and her adorable family, who went out to a friend’s vineyard (not the Salahi’s vineyard – an actual vineyard) to spend what appeared to be a relaxing day in the country. Just as things were looking fun and normal, the Salahis pulled up in that same white limo from last week’s party (maybe they got a deal on a multi-day rental and they’re going to, like, use it to do their chores for the rest of the week?) to make the entire thing awkward.

First Tareq spouted some nonsense about the longevity of wine, and then Michaele babbled about Obama in the longest run-on sentence I’ve ever heard. They both made a lot of word sounds, but I’m not sure that they had a complete thought between them. I’m guessing that’s not a completely unfamiliar occurrence in their household, and I doubt Michaele would know a complete thought if it punched her in the face.

Luckily Stacie’s husband was able to change the subject from politics to his brother’s hip-hop success in Paris, and he mentioned that they would be making a trip to see him perform soon. Never a couple to miss an opportunity to look rich even though they’re basically grifters, Tareq and Michaele immediately announced their plans to go to France to see him as well. Not that they know or care about Jason’s brother, because they don’t. But they do care about what everyone thinks of them, and spontaneous trips to Paris are probably pretty convenient if you’re trying to convince people that you’re rich.

Next up was Lynda, who was at Saks Fifth Avenue to help set up the store’s charity VIP fashion night. She donated her models’ services for an informal runway show during the evening, and Mary also showed up to drink free booze and gossip. (I love her. Have I said that?) She broached the subject of Lynda’s showdown with Michaele at Paul’s birthday party, and Lynda continued to pick at her weight and her relationship. I think Lynda’s probably right about the negative influence that Tareq’s attention-whoring has had on Michaele, but still, her concern rings incredibly false. “Eat a cheeseburger” is not valid diet or marital advice.

Then it was back to Stacie, who was preparing to leave for Paris with her husband. He appears to plan for trips like I do – we’ll figure it out on the way! Planning is totally overrated, and it takes away the magical mystery of traveling. Michaele and Tareq, on the other hand, were ready to go with lots of luggage and various obviously expensive things splashed about the scene for extra impact. Stacie and Jason seemed surprised that the Salahis wanted to go to a hip-hop show, but I can’t imagine that going to a Parisian rap show is, like, 8 Mile or anything. It’s the City of Lights. Come on now.

While they flew to Paris, Mary got together with her husband to have dinner and gossip and drink (love her). She thought Michaele and Tareq were a bit unreasonable at Paul’s party (putting it kindly) and hoped that things wouldn’t try to put on the same kind of show at an upcoming event that she’s throwing with the salon she goes to. I admire her (perhaps producer-imposed) ability to hope for the best from those two, but I think she’s going to be sadly mistaken. As the old saying goes, [poop] in one hand and wish in the other, see which one fills up first.

Back at Cat’s house, things were cute for a moment while Cat’s kids welcomed her husband back home from his work. Things got a bit more contentious when talk of scheduling came up and Cat complained of her stress and lack of sleep while he “swanned around” on a work assignment out of town. Naturally, her husband didn’t take kindly to her referring to his wage-earning as “swanning around,” consider that she worked on a vanity book project and went to parties the entire time he was gone, and her command to “chill out” didn’t seem to put him at ease. I wonder just how much pre-divorce fighting we’ll get to see from them.

And after that little bit of juice, we got something even better. I think it’s been pretty clear all along that Michaele and Tareq are showboating, grifting balls of worthlessness, but we finally got a little bit of confirmation. Remember how Michaele offered to plan and throw a birthday party for Paul last week? Or at the very least, she mentioned it would be sort of a “joint” thing because their birthdays are so close together? According to Paul’s publicist, Michaele and Tareq had their attorney call before the party to inform Paul’s people that the couple would not show up without a signed agreement that they were not expected to pay for a single thing at the party. *AUDIBLE SIGH HERE*

I don’t know where Michaele and Tareq are from, but where I’m from, if you offer to throw someone a party, you foot the bill. If it’s a joint party, you foot half the bill, at the very least. Either way, you don’t blithely sign your name to an event and act like it was your doing, all the while expecting someone else to sign all the checks just to secure your attendance at the party. Well, you don’t if you’re a decent person, anyway. The Salahis are clearly not. In fact, they appear to be actively competing for the title of Worst People on Earth. Joe Francis is still beating them, but they’ve got a lot of episodes left to go and I like their chances.

Speaking of the Salahis, they and the Turners had arrived in Paris to be greeted by a bottle of Dom that the Salahis had clearly managed to lift from the duty-free shop at the airport by stashing it in Michaele’s handbag. The group sat on their hotel balcony and toasted to Paris, and I was beset by an interesting question: if it meant a trip to Paris, would I be able to put up with the Salahis as traveling companions for a few days? And if I chose the trip, could I restrain myself from physically attacking one or both of them?

By the time that the concert rolled around, though, the trip seemed like a lot of fun. The crowd was pumped up, Michaele and Tareq were perhaps a little drunk, and everyone seemed to have a good time. I still wouldn’t want to be bound to the Awful Twins for any extended period of time, but they managed to get into the spirit of the show and not ruin the whole thing or embarrass the entirety of the US population, as most Housewives likely would have.

Back in America, things were considerably more awkward. Mary’s daughter, who looked to be of approximately middle-school age, brought up the topic of sexting. Maybe I’m just getting old, but it was kind of horrifying to hear a kid that young talking knowledgeably about texting naked pictures to boys. I mean, everyone loves a good sext now and then (sorry mom), but I’m genuinely glad that kids didn’t have phones when I was in middle school. I didn’t get one until I was 16, and that was pretty young back then (and by “back then,” I mean 2002.) Allow me to make a momentary PSA: kids, if you’re going to sext, at least have enough sense not to include your face.

Speaking of awkwardness, it was time for Cat’s book cover shoot! Her husband had to cancel on her (because he had actual paying work, how dare he), so the strand-in photographer loaded her up with shopping bags and accessories to take some really cheesy photos that didn’t seem to be all that well-conceptualized or skillfully shot. As a nice surprise, Charles was able to show up at the end and give Cat a nice surprise. He took her for a separate shoot afterward, and suffice it to say that he’s a successful photographer for a reason – his concept, while similar, was much more interesting.

Still in Paris, Michaele and Stacie were shopping and swapping stories, although the only thing I could look at or think about the first time I saw the scene was Michaele’s head-to-toe brown leather suit. Where does one even purchase such a thing? And when you’re slender enough to wear basically anything and your husband is clearly willing to rack up debt in order to look rich, how do you decide on head-to-toe brown leather? When I was finished staring at her appalling outfit, I rewound and actually listened to what Stacie was saying. She’s adopted and has contacted her birth mother, but now they’re on the outs because she won’t give Stacie any information on her birth father, who doesn’t know she exists. How did such a nice, normal, intelligent woman with a genuinely interesting backstory get stuck on this show?

In other People I Like news, Mary got together with her hairdresser friends Ted and Jason to drink and get ready for their fabulous party, to which everyone was invited. They also gossiped, because hair stylists always have the BEST gossip, and Jason dropped a great little story about how Tareq had bragged to one of his clients about spending so much money on Paul’s party. As more people started arriving to the hotel to get glammed up for the show (can we talk about how great Mary looks with straight hair and extensions?), even more gossiping started.

Lynda, naturally, didn’t want to be seated next to Michaele at the night’s event and Stacie tried her best to avoid Cat, but when they’re all on the same TV show, they kind of have to be seated next to one and other so they can all be in the same shot. Luckily Lynda and Michaele weren’t beside or across from each other, and drama was mostly staved off until people got up and started milling around.

Unfortunately, when the Housewives all started drinking and cheers-ing each other, Lynda decided to tell Stacie that she could be the Diana Ross of the group. When Stacie’s friend (correctly) pointed out that saying something like that was just an uncreative way to say, HEY, YOU’RE BLACK AND WE’RE NOT, Cat decided to have an opinion again. Nothing good comes from Cat having opinions.

In the grand tradition of white people who aren’t comfortable around people who aren’t white, Cat didn’t see anything wrong with the comment at all, but rather with the fact that anyone was offended by it. In fact, she was so offended that someone was offended (even though she didn’t make the comment herself or really have anything to do with it), she stormed out of the party to have a pow-wow with Paul, presumably because he’s the only black person associated with the show that isn’t sick of her yet.

Cat suspects that Stacie’s friend Erica is just jealous of her and the fact that she’s making all of these new and wonderful friends, and that everyone just has the wrong impression of her. I don’t think Cat’s a racist, per se, I just think she’s used to being around people exactly like her and the idea of being around others is not all that appetizing. Since she’s got her Black Friend Paul, clearly she can’t have a problem with black people! Of course not! Friendship with a single black person always indicates a total love and acceptance of everyone who’s not white, didn’t you know that?

And also, as an aside, you should always be skeptical of people who are constantly insisting they’re widely misunderstood. The same goes for women who insist that they don’t have any female friends because all other women hate them – at a certain point, if everyone has a certain idea or impression of you, it’s time to consider the possibility that maybe they’re not all wrong.

Back inside, Tareq was boasting about Michaele’s weight and how much she’s gained since she married him – 20 pounds, apparently. I really don’t like to comment on anyone’s weight, but if the Awful Twins are going to make it a voluntary part of the show (and even go so far as to mention numbers), then I think it’s justified: there’s no way that Michaele has gained 20 pounds since marrying Tareq. It’s just…not possible.

Particularly since the other Housewives say she’s gotten progressively thinner and more frail, it seems like her husband realizes there’s an issue and chooses to overcompensate for it instead of dealing with it. Lynda’s method of drunkenly browbeating Michaele is not the answer, but if she does have a problem, then hearing her husband publicly boast of an imaginary weight gain also won’t help. Although Lynda’s suggestion that Michaele lose her husband instead of losing any more weight was, sadly, spot-on.

Original post by Amanda Mull

IT’S FASHION WEEK, LADIES. Shows and models and Naomi Campbell, OH MY. Last night on the Rachel Zoe Project, not only were there near-tragedies of the fashion variety, but there were actual tragedies as well, which seemed like slightly unfamiliar territory for the Zoe folks.

In the fashion department, Rachel got a last-minute job styling a huge charity fashion show and New York Fashion Week almost got snowed out, but then a devastating earthquake shook Haiti and Alexander McQueen took his own life and we all got a reminder that fashion is, after all, just fashion. Even when Rachel Zoe is involved. But as the old cliché goes, the show must go on. In this case, the show was Naomi Campbell’s pet project, and you don’t want to be on the receiving end of an unhappy Blackberry smack from her. Blackberries are way heavier and more painful than iPhones.

As the show opened, Rachel was readying herself to go to New York and Milan for their respective fashion weeks to scout Oscar dresses and celebrate general fabulousness. As you can imagine, Rachel Zoe is not an efficient packer. She referred to her bags as people (and they’re Chanel bags, so they cost about as much as people) and tried to arrange her suitcases by “feeling.” One of her main feelings was Chanel, of course. Because so many events were going on in LA, Brad couldn’t accompany Rachel to New York, but don’t worry. They’ll rendezvous in Italy, naturally.

Upon landing in NYC, Rachel went straight to see Gwen Stefani, who was decked out in black leather and red lipstick and fabulousness. I’ve loved Gwen since I was approximately eight, so I’m going to need a moment here to sing the lyrics to “Sunday Morning” in my head.

***

Ok, I’m back. Gwen Stefani is also the proprietor of one of fashion’s most legit celebrity lines, as I’m sure you all know, and L.A.M.B. would be showing at Fashion Week. Rachel got a good look at Gwen’s line for fall, and most of the stuff was sick, particularly consider the price point. That amazing black-and-white wool coat? Gimme. Nevermind that it doesn’t really get cold here – I want it anyway.

When Rachel was in the car with The Rodge after seeing Gwen’s line, Naomi Campbell gave her a ring to style the charity Fashion For Relief show that would open Fashion Week. Since she only had like three days to throw the thing together, her schedule? It had to be cleared. Brad? He had to be rushed in from LA. Forget the clients in Los Angeles, this is FASHION WEEK, y’all.

So basically, there were no models or looks or anything for the show, but when Naomi Campbell tells you to do something and do it quick, I guess you make it happen to avoid a Blackberry to the head. On top of all of the challenges, if you think back to February in New York, the weather was disgusting. No one could get anywhere, models weren’t showing up for fittings, fashion as we know it was brought to its knees. But not Rachel! Rachel still managed to wear a white Chewbacca pelt and stiletto platform boots to her morning meeting. That’s why we love her.

When she got to the meeting to plan the Haiti charity show, there were approximately a dozen dresses for the women to wear and, like, half of a pair of pants for the menfolk. Send the models naked! Particularly the male ones. Clothe the female ones. As Rachel and Brad called around to all their contacts, it became clear that the clothes were not exactly going to be flowing in. Many international designers had already promised looks to the London iteration of this show, so they weren’t exactly being generous.

The upside was that several designers and stylists would be attending in their own clothes, but still…naked models. We’ve got ‘em. Naomi’s team showed up to check progress and everyone got mad at Brad for not freaking out hard enough. I found it a little hard to focus on the planning of the show when I kept waiting for someone to mention the enormous elephant in the room – Alexander McQueen’s death. The Fashion for Relief show ended up being a bit of an impromptu memorial to him, and we got nearly 40 minutes into the episode before it was mentioned. I know that they were probably trying to stick to a particular timeline, but it was distracting when you knew what was coming.

Anyway, back to the approved storyline. Rachel blamed Brad for the lack of clothes and eventually made him stand outside of the fittings to punish him, even though it seemed like Brad was doing everything he could think of to make sure everything was pulled that could be pulled. In LA, Jordan and New Girl Ashley were pulling from a wide array of looks to send dresses to the London premiere of Valentine’s Day, and when you factor in the lack of snow and lack of impending Naomi Campbell head injuries, their jobs were seeming way better than Brad’s.

Speaking of Naomi, back in New York she had shown up to get an update, and she was not pleased by the lack of shoes. She got on the phone directly to Christian Louboutin (not the company, the actual guy) right then and there to make some more footwear appear, and thankfully no one sustained any Blackberry-shaped contusions by the time she left. On a slightly different note, Naomi is 800 times prettier in motion than she is in a photograph, even when she’s enraged. That woman is a work of art, as is her weave.

And then, finally, McQueen’s death was acknowledged. Everyone seemed kind of shell-shocked and upset, and since Naomi was a close friend of McQueen’s, she’s the one that made the call that several of his runway looks would close the show before being sent back to the company to be archived. Speaking of tragedies, Rachel also had hired a Haitian model who, unbeknownst to them, had actually been in Haiti during the earthquake and had gotten out by flying to Paris.

Meeting someone so intimately affected by the earthquake renewed the team’s resolve to make the show perfect, so Brad got back on the phones to demand that more looks be donated. Rachel also called back to Los Angeles to have some shoes sent to New York from her showroom so that the models might have something to walk in. Still, hearing about the Haiti earthquake first-hand put the scale of this fashion “tragedy” back in perspective for all of us at home.

The next morning, Rachel ran out the door in a blaze of leather and fur and high heels in order to put the finishing touches on the lineup and get the show on the road. But, oops, there aren’t any models. Backstage at a fashion show when everyone is getting paid is chaotic enough, but when it’s charity? Even worse. No one was on time, some of the models didn’t have looks at all, people were milling about.

None of that was obvious on the surface, though, just as it isn’t at any good fashion show. All of the supermodels and celebrities looked beautiful (except for Chris Brown – who let Chris Brown in?), naturally, but the most poignant part of the show was easily the eight Alexander McQueen looks at the end, some of them on tearful models (and one privately owned and custom-made look on fashion goddess and couture customer Daphne Guinness).

The show managed to handle McQueen’s death respectfully and without exploiting it for maximum dramatic impact, which is probably more tasteful than anyone ever expected Bravo to be. I remember reading a lot about this show in February, so it was genuinely quite interesting to see how things went down behind the scenes with our ragtag group of fashionistas.

Original post by Amanda Mull

I have unfortunate news to report. Since we last convened, the Real Housewives of New Jersey’s boat didn’t sink. No, the cruise ship stayed afloat and no one fell overboard (and no one was tossed overboard, which was probably just as likely). And back in Jersey, Danielle was still…Danielle. She doesn’t really do things, does she? She just danielles around town.

In this penultimate (YAY ALMOST DONE) episode of the season, we saw the conclusion of the Great Italian Adventure and Danielle’s birth-mom storyline. Word on the street is that she won’t be on the show next season, so I guess it doesn’t matter who she does or doesn’t find. It certainly doesn’t matter to me – she can love-and-light her way straight out of pop culture, for all I care.

The episode opened with the cruise ship docking in Naples and Caroline very much wanting to scramble off the boat and away from her entire extended family. Teresa, on the other hand, didn’t so much scramble as crawl off the ship because she and Joe have four kids and approximately 8,489 pieces of luggage. Unrelated: Teresa thinks Mount Vesuvius may have erupted about sixty years ago. Or maybe several hundred years? Teresa’s grasp of history is…not strong. Nor is her grasp of language: “bidet” is apparently a difficult word. Joe said it’s like a douche. SOMETHING in their hotel room is a douche, but I’m not so sure that it’s the bidet. I think it’s the grown man in the Ed Hardy shirts and hair gel.

Speaking douches, Danielle was still in New Jersey and wanted to have a serious conversation with her kids, but they wanted to smack their gum and text because not only are they teenagers, but they’re poorly parented teenagers who have to deal with her every day. Danielle informed them that she was looking for her birth mother, which I honestly thought was something we had already been over. She spent roughly half the conversation talking about her mom and the other half explaining to them what a good mom she is, which probably goes under the, “If I say it enough, I shall make it so,” theory of parenting. It’s not a great theory.

Back in Italy, things were actually a little heart-warming for a second. Caroline and Jacqueline’s husband got together with their parents for a moment and spoke about how special it was to be back in Italy and think about where their family came from, and it was clear that the whole trip would have been kind of nice if Teresa’s Psycho Circus had been left at home. I don’t dislike Teresa or her family in most situations, but the thought of being on vacation and in close quarters with them makes me want to fling myself out of a window. Even a free vacation, which this likely was.

While the entire group was dining on some admittedly fabulous-looking pizza in Naples, we were reminded that the point of this trip was to go to Teresa’s and Joe’s family reunion in some tiny town outside of the city. Joe helpfully mentioned that everyone was going to have to hike up a giant hill to do so, and when Jacqueline pointed out that doing that with a bunch of strollers and old people (but thankfully not old people in strollers) might be a problem, Teresa got a little huffy and eye-rolly for my taste. Just because she can sprint up a cobblestone hill in high-heeled boots doesn’t mean that it’s easy for the grandparents in the group. On the other hand, props to her for handling her heels so well.

As the group prepared to leave Naples and travel to the family reunion, all the Giudices chose to fill the drive by complaining loudly and profanely about minibar charges and tour bus air conditioning. Somehow, I don’t doubt for a second that the family managed to eat, drink and destroy an extra 600 euros worth of food and property. Joe thought it was exorbitant, though, so he sat in he back of the bus like a spoiled fifth grader and yelled for the entire bus trip about crappy ham sandwiches, cognac, and above all, the need to be CIVILIZED. I really wish that more of the people on this show were capable of understanding irony, because sometimes it’s just so beautiful.

I’m not sure how many stairs it took for the entire clan to get from the bus stop up to Teresa’s and Joe’s grandparents’ houses, but it seemed like an unreasonably long period of time. Jacqueline sat down in the middle of the street when they got to the top, but pretty soon afterward we were in for another reasonably cute family moment: Joe’s grandmom looked overjoyed to see the family and meet some of her new great-grandkids. Aww. So Joe and Teresa are humans after all, and not just guido robots. Well isn’t that nice.

Speaking of familial heritage, Danielle finally met with the people who were going to help her find her birth mom. According to Danielle, all the information she has to go on for the search is her birthdate, place, and “ethniticity,” which isn’t going to get her very far. I’m not without sympathy for Danielle’s situation, but trying to add a sympathetic storyline about Danielle to the show seems to be entirely beside the point. The producers have spent two years trying to make us hate her, and congrats, they succeeded spectacularly. As a result, I’m significantly more interested in the story behind Teresa’s wonky hair line than I am about Danielle’s complex inner life.

In Italy, Teresa’s and Joe’s patience with each other was wearing thin, as was Jacqueline’s and Caroline’s ability to keep up with which relative corresponded with which Italian name. Thankfully the producers managed to intersperse the insanity with a few cute stories about where Joe’s birth and Christopher’s parents’ wedding, and it was almost odd to think of the people on this show as real people, complete with families, histories and ancestors far beyond the scope of Real Housewives. In fact, being forced to confront the cast members’ humanity was probably the most interesting moment of the season thus far for me, which might say something about the entertainment value of this show.

Speaking of family histories, Danielle finally got some word from her PI about finding her birth mother. She hadn’t been found yet, but the PI had located some files about the adoption and needed the court to take action on them. I started to feel for Danielle a little bit more at this point, but then I reminded myself that sociopaths understand emotions on an intellectual level and are able to fake them at will. Danielle’s scenes are far more interesting when I use all of the armchair psychology I’ve learned from repeated viewing of Criminal Minds to profile her.

In stark contrast to the nasty realities of life going on in New Jersey, the actual family reunion happened in Italy (wait, that part before with all the pasta and the strangers wasn’t the family reunion?) and Teresa’s daughters showed up in hoop skirts. Not to be funny or silly, but because Teresa thought they would all look great in pink-and-brown, satin-poly, custom-made matching dresses with hoop skirts. Thankfully, the infant didn’t have a hoop skirt but she DID have an extra-giant pink and brown bow on her bald head. I wonder if she could get cell reception on that thing.

Finally, after all of the little girls were unstrapped from their horrific dresses (there were pantaloons, people) and everything was stuffed back into the suitcases, the family returned home and went back to their respective suburban McMansions to recover from the jet lag and pick up the drama where they all left off. And drama it shall be: it looks like the finale is comprised mainly of a Caroline-Danielle showdown, although knowing our producers, the actual confrontation probably lasts for two and a half minutes at the end of the show and is what we saw in the commercials. Pessimistic? Me? Never.

Original post by Amanda Mull

Last week, your reviews of The Real Housewives of DC were decidedly mixed, but after last night’s episode I’m not afraid to admit that I love it. Yes, “love” is the appropriate word here. Something about the contrast of proximity to power and total idiocy is just delicious, particularly when compared to the eternal trainwreck that is Real Housewives of New Jersey.

Compared to the ladies of Jersey, our DC women might as well be philosophers. Well, maybe not Michaele, but I’m not entirely convinced that Michaele knows where she is at any given time, so she might as well be a Jersey housewife. And Cat. Is it too late to deport her? But as always, if we didn’t have those two, I wouldn’t have a recap to write, so in a weird way I owe both Michaele and Cat a solid.

We started with Michaele. Of course. It was Michaele’s 44th birthday, and at the very least I’ll admit that she doesn’t look 44. I would have pegged her at about 39, so good for her. Tareq brought in an array of random Jimmy Choo stuff from which she could pick her birthday present, which seemed like the least thoughtful, laziest way to go birthday shopping for a gift ever. Then Tareq took her outside and, uh, there was a horse. Michaele doesn’t ride, but it doesn’t matter, because she still thinks like a five-year-old and ALL five-year-old girls love horses. She named it Sparkle. Really.

Even Paul, the Dwight of DC, thought the name was almost stupefyingly immature but he managed to keep a straight face (well, mostly) when she told him. He seems to know that Michaele is either a moron, a pathological liar or both, but either because he’s a very nice person or the producers put him up to it, he agreed to let Michaele throw him a birthday party later in the episode.

Out in Virginia, Mary was giving instructions to her maid in Spanish about pee on the carpet and dog-hair tumbleweeds. The big fuzzy dog belongs to her grown daughter, who apparently broke up with her live-in boyfriend, spent all her money, and is now living at home again. Personally, I was just kind of shocked that any Real Housewife knows even a few words of a foreign language.

After dealing with the dog hair issues, Mary got together with Cat at a coffee shop (A coffee shop at which Mary’s daughter works! Hooray Mary for making her broke behind get a job!) to discuss Michaele, since Michaele appears to be the only thing that anyone on this show ever discusses. Cat said that she intended to honor last week’s commitment to go horseback riding with Michaele even though Michaele can’t ride a horse, and when she asked Mary if she’d come along too, Mary pretended like she didn’t even hear the question. Between that, how drunk she got at fancy her birthday party and the biometric lock on her closet, I think I might really like Mary. Even if she is a Kennedy name-dropper.

Cat, on the other hand…well, she has daughters who are in elementary school and she says she can’t wait for them to go to college, which must be a truly fantastic attitude for a mother to have when her kids are, like, eight. She followed that fabulous display of warmth and maturity up by being rude to Mary’s daughter and complaining when Mary tipped her too much at the end of the meal. Cat is just a ball of sunshine, and by sunshine, I mean negativity and condescension. That would be irritating enough by itself, but on top of it, she doesn’t seem all that clever or quick. In contrast, Bethenny from Real Housewives of New York also tends toward negativity and condescension, but she does it in a way that’s witty and oddly charming. Cat is just flat and patronizing, which means I award her no points. Try harder next week, Cat.

It wasn’t long before she and Mary traipsed out to the country to pretend to ride horses with Michaele, who was dressed in full riding regalia despite asking the other girls to come in jeans. Her husband managed to mention Prince Charles before Mary even had her boots on, which filled the Salahi name-drop quota for the first half of the episode and signaled to everyone that it was time to get on the horses. In a further attempt to give credence to my cocaine suspicions from last week, Michaele completely ignored all the polo instructions and rode directly away from the group, polo mallet in the air, screaming in delight the entire time.

After they rounded up Michaele, who had wandered off into the woods on her horse and was attempting to converse with a tree, everyone dismounted and Tareq managed to do the only redeeming thing he’s ever done by pissing off Cat. How did he piss her off? He gave her free alcohol, that bastard. It wasn’t the right kind of alcohol, you see, it was beer. You can’t expect her to drink BEER. How common. He told her it was chardonnay at first as a very obvious unfunny joke, and apparently she didn’t realize from the fact that it was dark and had foam on the top that it probably wasn’t grape-derived. Also, I think it probably smelled like beer, and beer and wine don’t smell the same. But how would someone as lovely and refined as Cat know what BEER smells like?

Refreshingly, it was time for Stacie. She was supposed to have friends over (and by “friends,” I mean Housewives) for dinner on Sunday, but since she didn’t have time to cook she decided it would be fun to have her friends over to her Aunt’s house for a traditional family dinner. Surely, Cat wouldn’t make a racist fool of herself at all…of course not…

Her Aunt Frances seemed like a total gem, and Lynda at least was very excited to go over to her house to have real southern food. I had no idea that she was from Georgia, but now that I know, I like her by default. Things I also like: peach cobbler. Fried chicken. Everything on the table for dinner. I could practically smell it through the television, and this may have been the only Real Housewives party to which I would have gladly gone.

Sadly, Cat arrived first and felt completely awkward around…well, around the people who were there. Take that as you will (“Cat is unable to interact with black people” is how I took it). She also wasn’t pleased with the drink options presented to her, but Aunt Frances seemed to be enjoying her scotch just fine, and somehow I think Aunt Frances has better taste than Cat does.

When Mary and her husband arrived, things became a little less awkward upstairs and Rich, Ebong and Jason retired to the basement to discuss their penises. Well, not theirs, I guess, but the fact that Jason holds the patent to an invention that can measure body parts by volume, and of course the first and best thing to measure with that is dicks. Naturally. It’s called the “penile volumetric measuring device,” and mentioning the name made the white guy in the room very, very uncomfortable. It also made Ebong uncomfortable simply because he’s a gentleman, although he said we’d have to defer to Lynda for more information on his, uh, situation.

Thankfully they all shut up about the penis measurer and got down to eating, and as if on cue, Cat became totally disgusted by the way that southern food is prepared (yes, yankees, traditional methods reuse old cooking grease). She managed to excuse herself as soon as her plate was cleared and run out of there, presumably to eat a salad with the dressing on the side in order to feel like herself again. As a southerner from a southern family, I can tell you that Cat clearly doesn’t know what she’s missing. The party at Aunt Frances’s house looked like every Thanksgiving I ever had as a kid, except the cobbler looked better. I need to move on from this subject before I drool on my laptop.

After Cat made her escape (before dessert!), Stacie got together with part of her family and Paul to apologize for Cat’s abrupt exit and talk a little smack, which she was certainly justified in doing. I’m not sure if it was the preponderance of black people or simply the unfamiliar food that made her uncomfortable, but I think you’d have to be seriously freaked out to be so blatantly rude. Whether the problem was based on race or class, Cat is very clearly not used to being around people that aren’t exactly like her. It’s kind of astounding that she can’t figure out that when you’re on television, you should at least pretend.

On a different night, at a different party, everyone was getting ready to celebrate Paul’s birthday. Paul was expecting to meet up with Michaele to get ready for the party but she was nowhere to be found and not answering her Blackberry, and she also hadn’t showed up by the time that guests were arriving. Reminder: she had volunteered to plan and host the entire party. When Michaele and Tareq finally arrived, they were in an eternally out-of-style white limo with a police escort and barely beat Paul to the party. Decent people would have given some sort of sincere apology, but Michaele and Tareq are clearly not decent people by any definition.

During the dinner portion of the evening, Lynda and Cat’s husband were seated next to each other and they actually managed to have a far more intelligent conversation about his work than Cat had conducted last week at Stacie’s house. He explained working with two very different presidents in a diplomatic and thoughtful way, and even though we only saw a snippet of the conversation, it was easily the most intelligent exchange I’ve seen on Real Housewives in, uh, forever. No wonder he’s divorcing Cat.

In stark contrast to the erudition on display at the dinner table, Michaele and Tareq got up and made some noise in order to play another round of “Look at Me, Look at Me,” which is clearly the couple’s favorite game ever. Despite the fact that they hadn’t bothered to actually play host or show up on time to the party, they didn’t think twice about taking the spotlight away from the birthday boy by opening a bottle of champagne with a sword. Yes, the brought a sword in anticipation of this moment. Tareq launched a spray of champagne and broken glass directly at Lynda, who I hope wasn’t wearing anything that required dry cleaning.

When Paul was allowed to speak for himself, the things he said about growing up awkward and insecure and turning his life into something great were actually really sweet and a nice birthday message. He thanked everyone profusely and teared up a little bit, and I found myself again thinking that I wouldn’t mind being at that party. Twice in one episode. Kind of amazing.

Well, almost. After everyone ate and the party was winding down, Lynda made a rather snarky comment about Michaele’s winery (which, admittedly, is probably awful). I was ok with that since Michaele is perhaps the most cluelessly narcissistic person on television and has offered herself up for criticism, but then Lynda made some even worse comments about Michaele’s weight. I’m a big believer in the idea that you don’t really need to comment on anyone’s weight, ever, and the sort of faux concern that she was showing based on Michaele’s “health” is doubly annoying.

Hey, Lynda. Telling someone that she needs to be force-fed a cheeseburger is not concern, it’s a Mean Girl tactic to make someone feel beneath you because of her appearance. About 700 words ago, I said that I liked you. Don’t make me take it back. Although if you called her a crackhead instead, I would find that totally acceptable. That might not make any sense, but I stand by it.

Original post by Amanda Mull

As anyone who has watched previous seasons of The Rachel Zoe Project knows, Rachel literally (Rachel’s definition, not the actual definition that exists in objective reality) lives and breathes on awards shows. The first episode of season three was oddly free of any red carpet machinations, but we ran into the Golden Globes face-first last night.

There were gowns! And problems! And late fittings! It’s become clear that this show could exist without any narrative at all, because I think we all really watch to see Rachel’s Birkins and the ridiculous dresses and Brad dancing around and trying on the clothes. They could just do that for an hour every week and I’d still watch, plus they wouldn’t have to worry about heavy-handedly trying to remind us all that Rodger is a football-loving, beer-drinking, straight dudebro. None of us care – more Van Cleef, please.

Of course things kicked off with a shopping trip to Fred Segal, but Rachel wasn’t feeling was shopportunistic as usual because of the drama of the impending Golden Globes. That doesn’t mean shopping didn’t happen, though – of course it did. Rachel eventually managed to get out of her unreasonably plush bathrobe (does she live in a hotel?) and turned up to find new looks for a “new beginning” with Brad, who she thinks needs to butch things up a little bit. I disagree – I love how delightfully un-butch Brad is, what with his bow ties and retro glasses. It works for him. For her part, Rachel considered getting a bob for about a second and a half, but rightfully concluded that that wouldn’t be a great idea.

Lest we forget, though, it’s Golden Globes time! Starlets need dresses like a crackhead needs a hit! Brad and Jordan got together to pull some options and drop some names, which his half the point of this show (the other half, of course, is sheer and unabated sartorial lust.) Kate Hudson, Cameron Diaz and Jennifer Garner were all going to need pretty sparklies for the big day, as well as possibly Paula Patton.

But before any of that can happen, we have to meet the new girl. Her name is Ashley and she has three years of experience, and Brad went about the business of assigning her a seat at the table and warning her to stay at least ten yards away from Taylor at all times. I’m not sure if Brad thought that perhaps Taylor would tackle her on sight, but for whatever the reason, he put the fear of God into the new girl about four seconds after she sat down.

In other parts of the Zoe Universe, it seems that for some reason, the producers are intent on making Rodger a relevant character this season instead of just letting him be the middle-aged guy in the background with the Justin Beiber haircut. As a result, we accompanied him on a workout with his trainer. In between exercises, he helpfully reviewed the rules for Golden Globes season, which include that he’s not allowed to speak to Rachel or even look at her the wrong way. Most husbands would probably love a month away from their wives to do guy stuff without anyone nagging them or interrupting, but apparently Rodger is not most husbands. Take that for what you will.

The Globes talk started up again in earnest when Rachel got back to the office to welcome the new employee, and some stuff was said about jewelry and Van Cleef and I don’t even know what else. The entire time, a giant Birkin was sitting on the counter in the middle of the shot, staring at me, and it made me nervous so I didn’t really listen. Hermes has that effect on me.

Eventually they all moved from the Birkin over to the clothing racks and started pulling piece after piece of fabulous clothing and making the new girl feel uncomfortable by paying absolutely no attention to her presence in the room. When they were finished doing that, they gave her the hardest job of all – dress the pregnant lady for the Golden Globes! Not only had Paula Patton finally confirmed that she was going, but she was also “with child” (Have you heard her husband’s music? I would be preggo too.) If I were Ashley, I would have crapped my pants and passed out on the spot. I guess that’s why I’m a blogger instead.

But then, wait, STOP. THE HOTEL GAVE CAMERON’S ATELIER VERSACE DRESS TO THE WRONG PERSON. PANIC. I’m not entirely clear on why the dress was at a hotel to begin with, but the hotel apparently gave a dress worth tens of thousands of dollars to the first random person who came in and said that they had a pick up. Maybe I should try that tomorrow – just go to random hotels and say I have a pickup and maybe I’ll be given safes full of jewelry or suitcases of cash or a brand new Mercedes or other things that are worth as much as an Atelier Versace dress. And then I’ll flee to France, who won’t extradite me back to the US when my subterfuge has been discovered, and I’ll be free to live out the rest of my life with whatever ill-gotten gains I may have plundered.

Ahem.

Wait, never mind, crisis averted. The hotel accidentally sent the dress to Malibu. To Pierce Brosnan’s house! So the entire time, while Rachel thought a rival stylist had stolen it, the Versace dress was actually in the protective hands of James Bond. Well that’s a relief, because the entire time I had visions of Taylor wearing it around her apartment and cackling wildly at her victory. Instead, Lucio from Versace finally showed up with the not-really-stolen dress, and as it turns out, Rachel doesn’t like it anyway. Send it away!

In between all the manic dress-pulling, we actually got a little human moment: the next day, Brad sat down with the new girl before anyone else arrived to work and told her to really assert herself and her personal style in the styling process. He did it in a way that was simultaneously supportive and non-critical, and Ashley seemed a little brighter and more enthusiastic afterward. Did we actually just witness a positive workplace dynamic on a Bravo show? Has anyone informed Andy Cohen that Brad isn’t doing his part to make the network sufficiently embarrassing? Clearly, this show needs some Danielle Staub. We just can’t have that kind of happiness or psychological health around here. Stop classing up the joint, Bradley!

And then when Rachel got to the office, things were still happy and supportive. She liked the dresses that Ashley had chosen! Wait, this can’t last, back to negativity and panic. Brad informed everyone that Taylor would be styling someone at the Globes, and Rachel again managed to throw a fit. She also claimed to be taking the high road about the situation, which was verifiably untrue, but also sounded a little like something that a lot of us probably do – tell ourselves we’re doing the right thing while doing the wrong thing, and hope that saying it repeatedly will somehow make it so. Afterward, Rachel flipped out at Rodger for telling her that it was supposed to rain on the day of the Globes. Not for causing the rain, because of course he didn’t, but just for telling her that it might happen. Ok, so maybe I now understand why he didn’t seem enthusiastic about awards season.

Things were quickly made better when Molly Sims came in to play with all the fun clothes, and clearly everything looks wonderful on Molly Sims. Fitting her made Rachel’s job look completely fun and glamourous, just like we all imagine it would be, and Molly seemed like a dream client. Not only did she fit all the sample sizes, but they looked like they belonged on her body. Within a few minutes, they had complete looks for both of her events.

While all of that was going on, Rodger was watching playoff football with perhaps the straightest, most heterosexual group of guys in the entirety of Los Angeles County. They sat on normal-looking couches in a normal-looking house and yelled at the television about crappy throws, and we could have been watching a scene from anywhere in America. Then someone brought out a baby and Rodger reminded us that Rachel needed to have a kid and quick so she’d have someone to inherit all of her vintage clothes, and we were immediately back in the Stylist Universe.

Back at the apartment, Rachel was finally able to confirm all of her clients in their dresses for the Globes, and then it was time for the really, really amazing part – JEWELRY. Brad and Rachel sat around a giant table of priceless jewelry to sparkle everyone up for the big day. I may or may not have paused my DVR to get a good, long look at some of the best pieces. I also may have rewound and watched the whole thing again. Possibly.

And then, tragedy struck. Not real tragedy, but stylist tragedy! The big day had arrived and everyone was losing their minds already, but then…the rain. It started. I wasn’t aware that it rained in LA, but it was raining that day. Rachel seemed to have forgotten that it was raining on everyone, not just her clients, but I guess you forget about things like rain protocol when you live in the desert. Apparently the Golden Globes also forgot about the difficulties of precipitation, because they didn’t even bother to put up a tent. Everyone had to carry umbrellas and hike up their dresses so they didn’t touch the nasty, wet carpet which probably smell like wet dog by the time the ceremony rolled around.

Everyone managed to slog down the carpet, though, and they all looked amazing. Well, I didn’t love the Alexander McQueen for Cameron Diaz, but I liked it much better than the pink Chanel from last season, so…progress! And, of course, Rachel managed to avert disaster again, just like every episode. Until next week, that is…

Original post by Amanda Mull

Last night marked week 14 in the interminable death march that is the second season of Real Housewives of New Jersey, and my body is starting to show signs of fatigue. My eyes are glassy; my skin, jaundiced. I can’t do anything with my hair, not even with a GHD flat iron. During commercial breaks, I vacillate wildly between crying and hysterical laughter. I think I’m developing a sinus infection. Some of the residual Jersey dust got in my nose.

The housewives, for their part, have decided to make this a two-front war and invaded Italy last night. I’m not sure how they plan to win, but I think it probably involves shaming the Italians into submission for having, at some point in the past, produced people that eventually produced all of them. Between this show and Jersey Shore, I feel kind of bad for Italians right now. And for myself. For having to watch this. Someone cue up the sad violins.

As has become traditional, the show started at Teresa’s conference center/house, but unfortunately, it was not to do cute family stuff. This time it was to mention the car accident (DUI? DUI.) that Joe had recently been in. Joe claimed that yawning caused him to hit a bunch of trees and flip his car, but whatever happened, at least no one was hurt, considering the rather gruesome accident photos. Joe also insists that alcohol became an issue in the arrest because he drank some scotch after the accident. Because he had wrecked in front of a friend’s house, and it seemed like a good time for cocktails. Right. I don’t think that’s true, but, well, if it is…he’s the dumbest person on the face of the planet. No contest. Give him the crown. Or the dunce cap. Whatever. Give him some kind of hat for dumb people.

Simultaneously Danielle and Danny The Ex-Con (Who has an iPhone. I didn’t see that coming.) had gotten together to discuss the accident and feign concern over Joe’s health. Once Danielle was done with that little charade, she called Joe disgusting and made fun of his Maserati. Love and light! And, oh yeah, she’d like to remind us all that she was richer than god back when she was married. In case we doubted or forgot. For better or for worse, this was the last of Danielle for the evening (and it was kind of for worse – this episode was tragically boring.)

Later when just Teresa, Caroline and Jacqueline met up to talk about the DUI, things got a little more real – Teresa admitted to some stress and tension in the family after the accident, and they all decided that a lavish trip to Italy was the right thing to do to celebrate Joe’s DUI and their financial problems. Caroline and Jacqueline had to work a little to convince their husbands to go, and Albert temporarily refused to participate if children were present. Apparently no one warned Teresa that leaving the kids at home was part of the rules, because at first she told her kids that they weren’t going, but when they all dissolved into crying fits she told them the truth. Apparently the joke’s on Albert.

Not only were the kids (all 42 of them) going to Italy, but so were the grandparents. Twenty people in total made the jaunt, and the thought of travelling to a different continent with that many family members made me actively nervous for the entire episode. Before the party bus to the airport even left, enormous vases were shattering and kids were crawling into furniture and I wanted to crawl under my bed and hide. I felt bad for the other people on that plane.

Somehow, though, the entire crew made it to Europe without causing an incident requiring FAA intervention, and for a little while at least, they all managed to be less disrespectful and less stereotypically American than Vicki Gunvalson when she went to Italy for Real Housewives of Orange County. Even taking into account that Jacqueline was mad because the gondoliers didn’t sing like the ones at the Venetian Hotel. Even then. Still better than Vicki.

As soon as they got off the boats, though, Teresa’s internal shopping GPS kicked in and she sprinted toward the Chanel boutique. Nevermind that Chanel is a French company with a huge flagship in Manhattan – she had to go to the one in ITALY. Luckily for Joe’s wallet, Chanel was closed for lunch and Teresa went into the nearest open boutique to buy something. ANYTHING. Green ring. Whatever. When she gets home, she’ll tell people she bought it next to Chanel in Italy.

After a day in Venice, the entire group boarded a cruise ship to…I don’t know. I don’t remember where they were going. Someplace else in Italy. Does it really matter? The cruise ship made Caroline nervous enough to talk about herself in the third person, and I have to agree. The idea of getting on a cruise ship makes me feel a little like a hamster too, so much so that I’ve never been on one despite the urgings of several friends. A cruise ship with a bunch of poorly behaved small children? Even less fun.

The first order of business on the cruise ship, of course, was making sure that Teresa and Joe could pawn off their four kids on someone so that they could have sex. Naturally they chose Caroline and Albert, who didn’t want to bring kids in the first place. How thoughtful. Apparently they had the kids for quite a while, because not only did they feed the kids breakfast, but Caroline and Albert also wandered around the ship trying to find kid-appropriate activities for what seemed like more time than was necessary. Albert was kind of cute with the kids, but Caroline was clearly not amused. I wouldn’t have been either, she already raised hers.

The next time we saw Teresa, she was boozing and eating vaguely penis-shaped chocolate with Jacqueline, and then riding the elevator up and down while Jacqueline wiggled her butt for everyone on the cruise ship to see. Drunk adults always kind of worry me. This is why. Naturally, the next morning, Jacqueline’s head was ready to explode. A hangover is bad enough, but a hangover when you have small children has to be a special kind of punishment.

Speaking of special punishments: large, sit-down dinners with lots of small children! Luckily, instead of causing havoc at Milania’s birthday dinner, they just all fell asleep. Before the cake even got there! Teresa wasn’t concerned that the kids were so tired or relieved that they weren’t yelling and screaming and standing on chairs, though, she was merely upset that she wouldn’t get to see Milania blow out her candles. Teresa’s kids have been repeatedly shown being disruptive and sometimes destructive in public, but it’s when they’re exhausted and fall asleep that she’s upset. Just, you know, pointing that you.

After all the kids were awoken, we were reminded that Jacqueline hadn’t managed to show up to dinner because she was still hung over from the night before. And then everyone at dinner said nice things about her. Well.

At that point, even the camera crew got bored and the show just ended. There wasn’t really any warning, or any resolution that normally happens at the end of a narrative arc. That’s because there wasn’t an arc – it was more of a narrative flatline the buzzed on for the entire episode and then suddenly stopped when the nurse had the good sense to unplug the machine. It looks as though we’ll be strung along for two more weeks before we’re put out of our collective misery for good, but at least the finale has been scheduled and we’re all ready to go into the light.

Original post by Amanda Mull