I love Real Housewives Of New York. Also, I want to hang out with them. The FOMO is worse than ever with this whole quarantine thing and everything. I will drink 10 martinis and lose my mind with Leah McSweeney. I will tear down the genteel (only-in-delusion) Upper East Side establishment – starting with their flowers. I will burn Newport to the ground with a fire of toasted marshmallows and vodka. It will be great. Ramona Singer can take her wannabe elegance and stuff it like a lobster roll.
Anyway, Ramona has invited all the Real Housewives of New York ladies to beautiful and sophisticated Newport, RI where she’s attempting to refashion herself into some sort of elegant grand dame in the search of a wealthy husband. Pssst…. Turtle Time, that ship has sailed. Meanwhile, there is Tinsley Mortimer, whose family actually owns a house in Newport where they spend summers. They winter in Palm Beach.
See, this is why they hate Tinsley. It’s not her screeching, or the whining, or the Power Puff Girl makeup with plastic-y tears, it’s the access. The blue bloodstock that doesn’t come from marrying up, and won’t dry-up with divorce.
This show … I just can’t get enough of Real Housewives Of New York! From Leah McSweeney instructing Tinsley Mortimer to go gangster – or “Cardi Llama” on Dorinda Medley; to Ramona Singer‘s condom situations, to the Russian baths with ginger vodka and Luann de Lesseps‘ bush coming back to haunt her. RHONY is the glimmer of unstoppable hope for Real Housewives everywhere. May you never change, no matter how far you stray uptown.
So on that note, Leah, Luann, and Tinsley are all sick after their day at the orchards. Well, I think we know where Coronavirus started! The Countesses’ cough. This is an unlikely trifecta for a brunch date, Luann is a surprisingly good foible for Leah and Tinsley. Also Luann looks phenomenal. She is literally aging backwards as she struts up to the table like someone told her the sidewalk was a cabaret stage. All the world’s a stage, darlings!
Tinsley is late, and when she arrives, she is distraught. Is Tinsley every any other way? Dale Mercer clearly didn’t warn Tinsley that her face would freeze this way, because it has.
According to Ramona Singer all the ladies on Real Housewives Of New York are going through a transition, and have found themselves single. Which is true. Before Dorinda Medley dumped John Mahdessian, she was the only woman on this show in a relationship. Unless you count Tinsley Mortimer dating “Bruce.”
Who does Tinsley think she’s fooling? Bruce was a made-up man to shut Dale Mercer up and hopefully make Scott Kluth jealous.
Anyway, it’s fall in New York and the weather is wonderful so all the ladies are meeting outside in various parks to take walks and gossip. If this were a RomCom they’d keep bumping into each other on random benches and eventually fall in love. But this is Real Housewives, so if they ran into each other on random benches they’d actually just find the other person talking shit about them to their other friends, then they’d fall into hate.
Oh, Real Housewives Of New York, you never fail to disappoint. Who can take a nothing day, and suddenly make it all seem worthwhile? Well it’s you girl[s], and you should know it!
Love may not be all around, though, but the opposite of love and just as passionate, is hate which is aplenty! Especially when it comes to Dorinda Medley‘s passionate animosity towards Tinsley Mortimer. Seriously – whaaaaat? Hating Tinsley is like hating the lone sock floating around the laundry forever without a mate. Hating Tinsley is like resenting an earring back that doesn’t quite fit snugly to any of your earrings. Hating Tinsley is like going to Costco and getting stuck bad samples.
What I mean is that none of these things should generate strong enough feelings to reach the intensity of anger Dorinda has towards Tinsley. Because what Dorinda truly hates is that her life has gone on without Richard andis no longer the fairy tale it was.
I fucking love Real Housewives Of New York. I don’t even know what else to say. Like let’s just end this recap right now and watch it again.
Sonja Morgan is headed to fashion week which entails all the disasters you’d imagine will occur when Sonja Morgan attempts to do anything. She’s got models wearing toaster oven boxes. Oh, wait she doesn’t have models! She’s got 65 interns running around making a runway out of printer paper. She’s got Home Depot flowers arranged by colors in plastic solo cups which will also double as cocktails becuase she soaked the flowers in Sonja Sangria. That’s right – she has a sangria collection too.
She’s got Collection 21 there, but Sonja means it’s collection 50+, for gals who don’t age, but kinda do. Meaning mentally they stay 21 forever. (That’s what Sonja loves about these 20-something boys — she may get older, but they just stay the same age.) It’s the whole Sonja Shit-show complete with fashion editors sitting on paper towel pallets and eating cocktail wienies she cooked backstage with a flatiron in a Carmen San Diego hat she turned into a roasting pan. Then when it’s time for everyone to say goodbye Sonja strolls into the industrial kitchen, changes into a sweat suit and shoos them all out the door. Seriously – did this fashion show take place in a hotel basement?
Ain’t no party like a Real Housewives Of New York party! Especially when you mix Leah McSweeney with Sonja Morgan for the ultimate, super potent cocktail. COCK-tail being the operative word considering that a vibrator wound up in the chicken. Imagine the immersion blender capabilities…
It’s the morning after another party where Sonja got so trashed she screamed about shaving pussies in a $39.9 million dollar house. They all wake up to learn Luann de Lesseps fled in the middle of the night citing the horror of being shut into Ramona Singer‘s basement amid the fumes of dog pee and a spider infestation. Is it spider or spite-her? Luann thinks she was put down below on purpose to remind her of her place, but Ramona is probably just thoughtless and a terrible hostess.
They’re all taking a tour of said basement of supposed horrors when Luann calls Ramona to explain why she got so upset. Luann is feeling left out and has FOMO, simple as that. She’s already the outcast for not drinking, then she’s shunted into the basement, hidden away like a pox on fun.
God bless Real Housewives Of New York. Seriously. This show is the gift that keeps on giving and giving and giving, like Sonja Morgan‘s vagina after a couple shots. And Sexy J really went to 11 yesterday.
With the Blue Stone Manor under construction the ladies are in the Hamptons bedding down at Ramona Singer‘s palatial abode. Too bad Luann de Lesseps was still shunted into the finished basement. Still a basement is a basement is a basement with spiders, and smelling a bit like must and dog piss. Which incidentally is probably the scent of the perfume Sonja is bottling as part of her lifestyle collection. After a miserable night Luann bailed to visit her chiropractor while the rest of the ladies hit up a vineyard.
Luann is the tempest in the third floor, and must’ve caused an awful storm to reflect her mood because it was overcast, raining, and gloomy. Ramona decided the theme of this trip is bonding, so she turns a boozy lunch into the opportunity to interrogate everyone about their deepest fears and insecurities. It’s mostly because she wants Tinsley Mortimer to spill the beans, but Tinsley has been around this town and this circuit longer than anyone. Truthfully, because she was born in it and it’s simply not that easy to upend the Tinz.
The inclusion of Leah McSweeney into Real Housewives Of New York is creating a cultural divide between generations. Here we have Leah, a millennial on the cusp of also being a Gen Xer. Someone, ahem, my age. Then we have the rest of the ‘girls.’ Still calling themselves “girls” well (WELL) past the acceptable age of being called so. Which is something only middle-aged women of a certain generation do. These girls are actually OKBoomers, and these boomers are treating Leah and Tinsley Mortimer like their willful daughters who don’t recognize good sense.
The problem is, of course, that Tinsley and Leah are grown-ass women, well-past the acceptable age of being called “girls” themselves. Although Tinsley has clung vehemently to the pretensions of her mother’s generation and, on the surface, tries to adhere to the notions of how one behaves. Leah is more like “fuck it all.” She’s Bethenny Frankel-lite, which is why she’s shaping up to be a good replacement.