Why Being a Socialite Makes you Famous, and Other Things That Make Me Mad.
So, if I could, I’d spend this entire article moaning about Made In Chelsea. Who are these people? Why are they on my screen? Why do they all sound like horses when they talk. Yaaah, naaoooo.
Why? Why do they exist? But I figured that would not be a particularly interesting or informative article. (Although it would damn well be amusing. Yes. Yes it would.) So, I’m here to focus on the world of privileged posh people, and the ‘is it fake?’ TV shows that they infest our TV screens with. Because we’re clearly obsessed with them. I just can’t figure out why.
The Only Way is Essex
So, people are now having parties themed around this show, and as far as I can tell, it doesn’t involve putting on so much fake tan you look like you’ve been Tangoed, and laughing about how stupid you are. Apparently, it’s riveting TV. So, in the name of good journalism, I subjected myself to some Youtube clips. Well, I chickened out when I realised there was a Cassetteboy remix, and I love Cassetteboy.
If they’re going to mock them, then I bloody well will too. Apparently, people in Essex are a little bit slaggy and dumb. That seems to be what this show is about. They talk about stuff like vajazzling, and say things a bit funny. I don’t really get it. But to be fair, these people aren’t massively entitled, or super posh. They just happen to be from Essex. Poor things.
Made In Chelsea
These people make me so mad. Possibly because I worked in Kensington and therefore served dicks like these all the time. They’re usually called Binky or Jasper. They own expensive cars that they insist on driving in automatic, because manual is ‘so out’. Oh, or they have a Prius, because spending lots of money on something that pretends to care about the environment is, like, supercool. This program, besides being about a bunch of rich wankers who don’t do anything besides trying to further their ‘careers’ in ‘media’, ‘modelling’ or ‘acting’ pretty much confirms my lack of faith in humanity.
They dress up pretty in overpriced garments and try to pretend their life has any meaning. Oh, and they take fucking long pauses before actually saying anything. It could be for dramatic effect, but is more likely they’re trying to remember how to adlib, because they dropped out of acting school to be models.
Oh, and that OBVIOUSLY GAY male model? When he looks shocked, he does the Ben Stiller ‘Blue Steel’ look. Yeah. That’s how lacking in original thought you are. Fuck off.
Dirty Sexy Things
Models. Being sexy. But not being on America’s Next Top Model. Bitchiness, and everyone talking about how fabulous their fabulous lives are. Fuck off.
The Real Housewives of… (insert some place where rich housewives hang out)
Okay, I’ll admit, when my Mum started watching this obsessively, I used to leave the room. But sometimes, escaping quickly enough is really difficult. This is kind of watchable.
I’ve watched the Orange County wives. And yes, it makes me angry. They have a lot of money. And all they do is bitch about their weight, or their children, or their husbands, or their friends. Or they get botox and freak out about turning thirty. I’m searching for the upside, I’m sure I had one…Um. Oh right, it’s pro-feminism! All the women are majorly high up in companies, due to their own non-boob-job-related qualifications, and all continue to work even whilst married to rich boring men. It’s almost the Ya Ya Sisterhood. When you think about it.
Pretty Little Liars
Um. This is on MTV. I’m not sixteen, and Big Bad Murdoch offers me hundreds of other channels plus catch up, anytime, and recording stuff. Plus, shock horror, sometimes I read instead.
Every time I’ve turned this on there’s some teenybopper, in a dress worth more than my yearly wage, crying in a limousine. There’s like, a murder, and like, a secret, and these, like, friends, get together to figure out who this anonymous terrible person is. Next.
There are exceptions to the privileged rule. Some where we don’t mind that they’re so fucking rich because there’s other stuff going on. Or the world is portrayed as kinda crap, so we don’t really want to be part of it.
OR a whole bunch of other characters continually do enter this world, and therefore it’s not so crazy out of reach, and we feel justified as normal human beings. Or something.
The original ‘rich people in a rich place’ series. Well, that was recent and decent. The Cohens are a nice family who just happen to be rich, and adopt Ryan (a would-be bad kid from the wrong side of the tracks). The winning factor here is Sandy Cohen, defence lawyer and all-round good guy, who’s a bit of a hippie, and uncomfortable with his wife’s wealth. Because he doesn’t really belong there, along with his son, Seth, we kinda feel like not everyone’s a massive snob. Especially when the biggest snobs in the bunch have usually come from trailer trash beginnings.
Plus, there’s like teen drinking and sex and love and stuff. Yeah.
This works as we enter the entirely rich world of two spoiled sisters, Sage and Rose. Writer Megan is hired by their grandmother and guardian Laurel (yes, big on the flora in this family) to be a tutor. Except they’re used to having a partying awesome life with no consequences, except Rose would quite like to just study and go to university.
There’s lots of posh parties, a few one-off mind games, and lots of people who live in that area who aren’t crazy rich. I can deal with this. Their Prada doesn’t make me feel worthless.
The guiltiest of my pleasures. I recently got back into this after missing a whole bunch of seasons, and basically, nothing changes. They’re a bunch of old-money socialites from New York’s Upper East Side, except that they have friends (and step-siblings because everyone’s freaking related now) who aren’t rich, but still go to posh schools and stuff.
So, now Blair is marrying a Prince (like Grace Kelly) so she’s going from socialite to royalty, except Chuck is now head of an empire and…blah. It’s awesome, but it involves a lot of twenty somethings having a LOT of power. And…I’m looking for internships whilst serving coffee. But you’re at least so focused on the drama of it all, and the strong-willed desire to backstab your friends/enemies/competition that the fact that they’re rich is not really a big deal. Because you know that even if they weren’t rich, they’d still make stuff happen. That’s just the kind of self-actualized bitches they are. And I love them for it.